#despite me still not watching it I’m like…half watching some parts through gifs lol

[pretty-circa006]

Mystery Man

Sugar Daddy! Coach! Negan x Cam girl! F! Reader

summary you finally find out who your mystery man is tags online relationship, meeting up with a stranger you met online, making out, almost sex, dirty talk, male masturbation, age gap

wc 3.7k words

part 1

note here's part 2! also thank you so much to all the people that follow me. it makes me really happy to know that that many people like reading what i write! and extra thank yous to the people that leave comments and repost. comments make me so happy, like kicking my feet and giggling happy!

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

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Ever since her video call a few weeks ago with the man online, they’ve been messaging each other quite frequently. It’s mostly flirtation and nudes, but it has quickly become her favorite part of the day. He even gave her his number so they can communicate outside of the camgirl website, but despite all this, they still haven’t seen each other’s faces. 

“Who’re you texting?” her friend asks as she tries to get a peek of her phone. 

“Nobody,” she snaps, turning her phone away from the other girl’s view. 

“C’mooon, lemme see!” she pushes trying to grab her phone. 

“Britney, stop it!” she urges and she hold her phone away from her nosey friend. Britney glares at her disappointedly, but stops trying to grab her phone. 

“Sorry, it’s just that I wanna keep this relationship kinda private until I know where it’s going, y’know?” she tells her friend half truthfully. 

“Yeah, whatever. I’m gonna go out before Coach Negan starts yelling at us again.” Britney leaves and she can finally resume her texting without any prying eyes. She reopens her messages and sees a picture from the man. He’s shirtless, revealing to her the tattoos on his chest, and palming his erection through his boxers, but of course his face isn’t in it. The text that followed reads Just watched some of your videos. She smiles to herself before typing back maybe one day you’ll get the real thing ;). Before she can get carried away, she shuts off her phone and puts it in her bag before joining the rest of the team out on the field. 

Coach Negan shouts her last name angrily and beckons her over with his hand. She rolls her eyes, feeling irate, and trudges over to him. He stands impatiently with his arms folded over his chest, his hazel eyes glaring down at her. 

“What?” she snaps, coming off a bit ruder than she intended. 

His glare hardens, but he doesn’t say anything about her attitude. “I just thought I’d let you know that this is the third time this week that you’ve been late to practice,” he states the obvious. 

“Okay? I know. Sorry, but things came up. What’s your problem?” she half truths. The things that kept coming up were more messages from her mystery man and she tended to lose track of time when it came to him. 

“It’s actually gonna become your fuckin’ problem because if you keep showing up late, you’re gonna put your track scholarship in jeopardy.” 

“Why is that any of your business‽” she asks defensively. 

“Despite you being my worst student, you are the best on this team, so it does benefit me to keep your rude ass around.” 

She glares up at him, matching the glare he’s already sending her. Shame washes over her, not only from slacking but from having Coach Negan of  all people call her out on it. Her scholarship isn’t something she can afford to lose, literally. Even though it only covers half of her tuition, it still helps a lot. 

“Well if keeping me around benefits you, maybe you should stop being such a dick to me.” 

He laughs sarcastically, exposing the dimples on his face along with his perfect teeth, before his face returns to a deadpan. 

“Or you can just get your shit together. Now go warm up with the others before you piss me off any further.” 

“Ugh!” she screams before leaving to join the others. 

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As soon as she gets to her apartment, she tosses her bag aside and flops down onto her couch. She pulls out her phone and checks her messages with the mystery man to see if she has any new ones. When she sees that she doesn’t, she opens the camgirl website to see if maybe he said anything there. Disappointment swells in her chest when she sees that there’s none there, either. She almost feels dumb for being so hung up on this stranger. The stranger she’s never met in real life and doesn’t know what he looks like. But talking to him makes her feel good, like someone actually cares about her. Even if their conversations were purely flirtatious and sexual, she can’t help but feel something for him. So she sends him a message. 

@ virginesque hey 

@ BigBadWolf Miss me already?

@ virginesque yes actually how was ur day?

@ BigBadWolf It was alright. How about yours baby? 

@ virginesque kinda shitty tbh. school sucks but talking to u makes my day better :)

@ BigBadWolf You must really want another tip, huh lol 

@ BigBadWolf sent $100.00

@ virginesque no, i rlly just wanted to talk to u :( 

@ BigBadWolf Well aren’t you just the cutest. What do you wanna talk about baby?

@ virginesque idk i kinda been wanting to get to know u better. u seem interesting 

@ BigBadWolf Well what do you want to know?

@ virginesque what do you look like???

@ BigBadWolf I don’t even know what you look like haha

@ virginesque fair. how old are u??

@ BigBadWolf 45, you?

@ virginesque 20 but i’ll be 21 soon 

Their conversation strayed away from the usual exchanging of risqué photos and flirtatious banter and instead they got to know each other by taking turns asking questions about one another. It’s almost two in the morning on a week day and their conversation is still going. 

@ BigBadWolf Do you accept gifts? I want to send you a gift

@ virginesque ooooh what is it???

@ BigBadWolf You’ll have to be patient and wait until you get it

@ virginesque fine :( u can send them to my PO box

@ BigBadWolf When you get it, I wanna see it in your next stream 

@ virginesque oh? no private video just for ur eyes?

@ BigBadWolf You can send me a few pictures ;)

@ virginesque cant wait :D

@ BigBadWolf Goodnight babygirl, it was nice chatting with you 

@ virginesque night! ♡♡

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Almost every day since the mystery man said he’s gonna send her a gift, she’s been checking her P.O. box on the way home from school. She’s gotten mail from her subscribers before, but it was usually weird stuff like disgusting fantasies about her, cumsocks, and other depraved things. But she knows her mystery man is nothing like those weirdos, which is why when there’s finally something in her P.O. box, she’s excited. 

As soon as she gets to her apartment she tears open the box and inside is a package from an expensive lingerie company. She tears open the package and inside is a quarter cup bra in a sheer white color with little flowers embroidered on it and a matching g-string. She hurries to the bathroom and changes into it. The bra doesn’t cover anything and even if it did, you could see right through it. What surprises her most is how perfectly each garment fits. She puts on some natural looking makeup before standing before the full length mirror in her bedroom. With her phone, she snaps a few pictures, each one a different pose. 

@ virginesque sent 6 attachments 

@ virginesque u like?

@ BigBadWolf Wow, it fits you perfectly. You look so fuckin sexy

@ virginesque thanks, i love it ♡

@ virginesque im gonna go start my stream now, maybe we can call after ??

@ BigBadWolf Can’t wait :) 

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“You looked so sexy on that stream, doll,” her mystery man compliments. This video call is a lot like their first one. Neither one of them showing their faces with only their bodies in the camera’s frame. 

“Don’t I always?” 

“Of course you fuckin’ do. Every picture you send me tightens my pants.” 

She giggles, smiling like a fool, but luckily he can’t see that. 

“I wish I could be there to help you out. I’d let you fill any hole you wanted.” 

He frees his cock from his sweatpants and from what she can see he doesn’t have any underwear on. 

“What else would you let me do?” he asks, his hardened dick in his large hand. 

“Hmmm, I’d be wearing a cute little dress with nothing underneath…”

“I’d never be able to keep my hands off you.” His hand begins pumping his achingly hard cock. 

“And I wouldn’t want you to. I’d let you take me whenever and wherever you want. Over my kitchen counter, the backseat of a car, the back of a movie theater, anywhere.” 

He lets out a grunt as he urges himself to his peak. “I’d love to fuck you on my motorcycle.” 

“You have a motorcycle? You just got even hotter.” 

“Sure do. I’d be happy to take you for a ride sometime.” He curses as he increases the speed of his hand, successfully making himself cum. 

“I…I know it’s all just dirty talk and fantasies, but would you really wanna take me for a ride?” she shyly asks. 

He pauses for a second, but the anxiety she feels during that pause makes it feel like an eternity. 

“I…I mean, yeah of course, baby, I’d love to,” he stammers. 

“M-maybe if we do…we can make all these fantasies reality,” she seductively suggests. 

“You are getting me hard all over again just thinking about it. I know you live in Virginia since that’s where your P.O. box is and lucky for you, I do, too.”

“I’ll text you my favorite restaurant and we can meet there!”

“How’s this weekend sound?”

“I’ll be there in my little dress with nothing underneath.” 

“And I’ll be there ready to take it off.”

“Five o’clock?” 

They agree on the time before wishing each other a good night and ending the call. 

Saturday felt like it took forever to get here, but when it finally did she started to feel nervous. She stands in front of her closet and looks at the few dresses she has. Deciding on a lavender colored mini sundress, she upholds her promise to her mystery man and wears nothing underneath. She even paints her nails and does her hair and makeup nicely. The reality of the situation dawns on her. She’s really about to meet up with a random man she met online, but for some reason, she trusts him. He’s nothing like the weirdo fans that have sent her weird shit or left creepy, almost threatening comments on her posts and streams. He’s charming, generous, and has a huge dick. What more could she ask for? 

It’s a quarter til five once she gets to the restaurant since she likes to be early. She grabs a table by the window and sends him a message telling him that she’s here and sitting by a window. Someone calling her name causes her to flinch and look up from her phone. 

“Coach Negan? What’re you doing here?” she asks rudely. 

“It’s a goddamn restaurant. I’m obviously here to eat.” 

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Okay, whatever, bye.” she shoos him away with her hand and pulls out her phone to text the mystery man and ask where he is. He texts back that he’s here and asks where she is. She replies by telling him what she’s wearing. Coach Negan comes back over to her table, but this time he looks shocked and pale. He sits at the table, across from her and looks her in the eyes. 

“You…you’re not virginesque…are you?” he asks dryly. 

As she looks into Negan’s hazel eyes, it feels like her entire world came crashing down around her. Her stomach turns into knots and she’s not hungry anymore. 

“Y-you’re big bad wolf!?” she says shakily. Tears prick at her eyes due to the realization that the mystery man she’s been crushing on is her mean track and field coach. 

He sighs and runs a hand over his face. “Holy fuckin’ shit.” He holds his head in his hands and refuses to look at her. She can’t look at him, nor can she hold back her tears. At the sound of her sniffling, Negan looks up at her. 

“I can’t believe my coach has seen me naked,” she sobs. 

“This isn’t easy for me either. My student has seen my penis!” 

“Why didn’t you tell me it was you!” she asks incredulously. 

“I didn’t know you were you!” he argues. 

“Oh my god, I’ve masturbated in front of you…to you! I…I’ve sent you nudes a-and videos,” she cries into her hands. 

“I’ve sent you dick pics and thousands of fucking dollars!” he bemoans. 

Through their bickering, neither of them notice the waiter approach. “Hi, my name is Tyler and I’ll be your server for tonight,” he places menus, napkins and silverware on their table, ���Can I get y’all started with anything to drink?” 

“Not now, Tyler!” she shouts between sobs. He looks at her, offended, before walking off. 

The atmosphere is incredibly and awkwardly tense. Now, Negan has not only seen her naked, but he’s also seen her cry. That man she met on her live stream was nothing like Coach Negan and to see that they’re the same person almost makes her nauseous. Coach Negan is a mean, foul mouthed dick who makes her contemplate dropping out of track and field every time she goes to practice. Her mystery man is caring, charismatic, a gentleman even. 

“Look,” he says, grabbing her attention, “I know this is weird as shit for you because it’s weird for me, too. But the attraction we felt to each other was fuckin’ real.” The more she hears him speak, the stupider she feels for not realizing how similarly he and the mystery man spoke. 

“Yeah,” she agrees, “and I appreciate all the money you’ve sent.” 

He sighs as if he doesn’t want to say what he’s about to say, but says it anyway. “And I do enjoy our late night chats and video calls.” 

“Me too. Talking with you was my favorite part of the day,” she admits, trying not to cry again. 

“I don’t want this to end just because we already knew each other,” he confesses. 

She looks away from him and down at the table, nervously biting her lip. “But you hate me and I’m not the hugest fan of you either. How could we possibly not end this?” 

“I do not hate you. You only know me when I’m your coach. Outside of that, I promise you I am the man you’ve been talking to.” 

She mulls over his words for a moment before taking a chance and letting her worries go. “Good, because I really like him.”

Negan waves the waiter over and they order their food. The atmosphere is less awkward when the food comes and she’s starting to feel comfortable with him being Negan. They finish eating and he covers the bill. 

“Y’know I wasn’t kidding about takin’ you out on my motorcycle,” he tells her with a smirk on his face as they walk out the restaurant. She follows beside him as he takes her to his motorcycle.  

“Wow, it’s nice,” she comments unsurely. 

“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted me to take you for a ride?”

“I do, it’s just that I also wasn’t kidding about wearing a little dress with nothing underneath…” 

He stops in his tracks and turns to look at her. His hazel eyes scan her body and a smirk spreads across his face, bringing attention to his dimples. 

“You are way sexier in person,” he compliments, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He takes off his leather jacket and ties it around her waist. 

“We won’t go too far, so that should hold you over.” He puts a helmet on her head before putting one on himself. She gets on the bike behind him and he grabs her arms and wraps them around his waist. 

“Hold on tight, baby.” 

He takes off, causing her to hold him even tighter. She watches the scenery pass by as he drives by the coast. The full moon shines beautifully over the ocean as the waves crash along the sandy shore and it soothes her. He stops at an overlook that has an even better view of the beach and climbs off the bike and takes off his helmet before helping her off. She unties his jacket from around her waist and hands it to him, but instead of putting it on, he drapes it over her shoulders, which she's grateful for considering the cool weather. 

"Wow, you really are different when you're not coaching," she teases. He lets out a laugh and wraps his arm around her shoulders and guides her to overpass' railing so they can get a better look at the view. She watches the waves and Negan stands behind her, watching the scenery too. He hugs her around her shoulders, holding her close to his chest. It's an oddly intimate position for people who just met, but when she's not thinking of him as Coach Negan, it feels right. 

"Any other fantasies you wanted to live out tonight?" he whispers in her ear. The feeling of his facial hair and soft lips brushing against the shell of her ear sends tingles down her spine. With his teeth, he gently nips at her ear before pulling away. She turns around to face him and smiles seductively. 

“If I remember correctly,” she bites her lip and slides her hands up his chest before holding onto his broad shoulders, “you said you wanted to fuck me on your motorcycle.” His tongue seductively swipes across his bottom lip before a smirk grows across his face. His big hands slide down her body before cupping her ass. 

“Oh, baby, I was hopin’ you’d say that.”

“Really? Even after you found out I’m the girl you were talking to?” 

“Doll, even before I found your cam girl account, I always thought you were undeniably sexy.”

Warmth spreads across her face at his admission, even though it contradicts the way he treated her during games and practices. 

"Yeah? Well, I can't say I'm disappointed to find out someone as good looking as you is my mystery man," she flirts back. 

He grabs her by the back of her head and pulls her in for a kiss. Having been caught off guard, she gasps, but wraps her arms around his neck and deepens the kiss. His tongue forces its way through her soft lips and she welcomes the intrusion. He picks her up by the backs of her thighs and she reflexively wraps her legs around his waist. She can feel his hard-on through his jeans against her bare pussy, causing her to moan into his mouth. The need to breathe forces her to pull away from him. 

“Negan,” she pants, “I want you to touch me, please!” 

“Patience, baby,” he urges. She pouts and grips his shoulders tightly as she grinds against his clothed erection. Negan lets out a repressed grunt, suddenly regretting asking her to be patient. He carries her back over to his motorcycle and sets her down. He pulls his jacket off of her and hangs it on the handlebars. 

“You look so goddamn delicious in that little dress,” he states as he ogles her. 

“Wore it just for you.”

“I can’t wait to unwrap my present.” A cheeky, dimpled smile lights up across his face as he unzips the back of her dress and peels it off of her body, revealing her naked body to him. Eagerly, she undoes his belt, then his jeans, then pulls his hard cock from his boxers. 

“Wow, it looks bigger than it did on video call.” 

“Just wait til you feel it filling that pretty little pussy.” He sits on the seat of the bike and pats his lap. 

“Wanna ride me on my motorcycle,” he jokes. Her eyes drop to his cock before smiling up at him and eagerly nodding. 

“Go grab a condom out of my jacket pocket.”  She does as he says and hands the condom to him to which he rolls it on. Excitement had filled her mind up until this very moment because now nervousness is taking over. He helps her climb onto his lap and positions her over his dick. He teases her slick folds with his tip, causing her to tighten her grip on his shoulders. Her heart pounds wildly in her chest once she feels him line his tip up with her entrance. 

“You okay?” he asks, his hazel eyes filled with concern. The tense look on her face didn't go unnoticed by him.

“Y-yeah.” 

“Baby, we don’t have to do this.” 

“No! No, I want to. It…It’s just that this is my first time.”

He pauses and rubs a hand over his face. She can’t read his expression as he stares into her eyes. 

“You’re a fuckin’ virgin?” 

“Uh, yeah? It’s kinda in my username on the cam girl site.”

“Yeah, but it’s virginesque, which kinda implies that you’re not really a virgin,” he explains. 

“I know, that’s the point.” 

“I don’t get it…” 

“Well, I’ve never had sex before, but with all the toys I’ve used and stuff I’ve done as a cam girl, I don’t really feel like a virgin." 

“Oh my fuckin god,” he sighs as he urges her to get up. She grabs her dress from off the ground and puts it back on as Negan fixes his pants. Her heart’s still racing, but this time, instead of awaiting Negan’s dick, she’s waiting for his next words. 

“I-is that a problem‽”

“Kinda, yeah. I can’t fuck a virgin on my bike at an overpass in the middle of the fuckin night. Isn’t your first time supposed to be special and with someone you love or some shit like that?” 

“Well what if this is how I wanna have my first time?” 

“There’s better ways!” He argues. 

“Like what?”

The look in his eyes is dark as a smirk spreads across his face. He steps closer to her, his tongue salaciously gliding across his bottom lip. He leans down to whisper in her ear, his lips gently brushing against the shell. 

“What if I fucked you on your livestream. Showed all those pathetic excuses of men you have for viewers that their tiny little cocks could never please you the way I can. Show them that I’m the first man to ever fuck you.” 

Her face blooms with heat and her stomach flutters at his words. She was afraid he was going to completely turn her away, but instead he embraced it. 

part 3 ➢

[forever-rogue]

All of your fics have me daydreaming over here 🫣

Wouldn’t it be so cute if Joel accidentally said something to you where he basically admitted that he has a crush on you, or how he finds you attractive, and how red in the face he would get- like clearing his throat and averting his gaze or trying to cover it up

Part of me also imagines it in a “miss congenitally” way where fem!reader is then teasing like “you think I’m goooorgeous, you wanna kissss me, you want to loooove me” without realizing that he’s *actually* falling for you UGH my heart

AN | Please, this is so soft and I love this concept! 🥰 

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.2k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

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You liked Joel. Really liked him. And you were fairly certain that he liked you too. But you were also fairly certain that he would never admit that he felt that way. 

So what did that leave you with? A whole lot of fun and teasing. You might as well have some fun with it, right? Right.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hello there,” as soon as you spotted Joel, you flounced over to him, a big smile on your face. He was tending to his flock of his sheep, but stopped and turned around to face you. It was cold but you could still see the pink rising up in his cheeks. You were breathless by the time you reached him, heart pitter-pattering wildly in your chest, “Joel.”

“Hey sweetheart,” you liked it when he called you that. It always made your face flush up with warmth, “what’s up?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged innocently as you hopped onto the fence and made yourself comfortable, swinging your feet back and forth. He tutted softly and eyed you suspiciously, “what?”

“Nothin,’” he echoed your words, teasing you affectionately.

“What?” your eyes widened as your mouth formed a small pout, “don’t be mean!”

“I’m not,” he laughed and oh. You like the way his singular dimple showed up, and the way his eyes crinkled in the corner. He was wickedly handsome and it always made you weak. He reached over and gently brushed a few rogue locks of hair out of your face, “I just like giving you a hard time.”

“Have you ever considered not giving me a hard time?” you took some of the feed out of the bucket and tossed it to some of his sheep.

“I have,” he mused as you raised an eyebrow softly, “and I’ve decided that I will not be doing that. It’s too much fun to mess with you-”

“Hey!” 

“Affectionately,” he promised, as he watched your face go through a range of different emotions before you settled on a happy little smile, “what’re you up to you, trouble?”

“Nothing much,” you replied softly...which wasn’t a total lie. The entire truth was that you’d been looking for him because you missed him. It wasn’t even that it had been so long since you’d last seen him, you just liked being around him. You tried not to make it so obvious that you were…into him, but you weren’t sure how well you were hiding it. Considering that half of the people in Jackson teased you about it, you were pretty sure that it was…obvious, “had some time to kill and wanted to spend it with my favorite nuisance.”

“I’m the nuisance?” he scoffed playfully before pinching your side, causing you to squeal and squirm as you slid off the fence. Before you even had to worry about falling into the mud or hurting yourself, you felt a strong pair of hands wrap around your waist, “easy, trouble. Don’t want you to go hurting yourself.”

Your brain was currently consumed with the thought of him still holding onto your waist, despite the fact that he no longer needed to. You opened and closed your mouth a few times before only nodding shyly. It always seemed like he could see right into your soul, into your heart. You couldn’t hold his gaze for much longer otherwise you were sure that you’d spill all of your secrets. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, slowly and reluctantly pulling out of his grasp. You swallowed thickly, before flailing your hand around, “I-I should go. I have to do…things.”

“Things,” he repeated, his accent twanging slightly on the word, “what kind of things, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It just so happens that I do mind you asking, Miller,” you lied, finding it easy to smile one again from the affection he so openly offered you. He wasn’t a hard man by any means, not these days anymore, but he still wasn’t so free with his heart with many people. You happened to be one of the few that he cared so deeply for, “so, I gotta get going.”

“Uh huh honey,” he watched as you slipped past him and out of the small enclosure. Before running off, you turned around to offer him a meek little wave, “have fun with those things!”

“I will!” you stuck out your tongue at him, but he was laughing, “see you around, Miller!”

“See you around,” he stood there and watched you run off, a dopey little smile on his face. He exhaled slowly, shaking his head in amusement before turning back to his little flock. 

“You guys make me sick,” Ellie popped out of nowhere and stood next to Joel, petting one of the sheep - Gort, which happened to be her favorite. Joel couldn’t help the deep belly laugh that escaped him; it made Ellie smile too. He was laughing a lot more these days and Ellie really liked that, “disgustingly cute.”

“What?” he looked at her in surprise, “her? Me?”

“Definitely her,” she felt a warm blush creep into her cheeks as well; she had a bit of a crush on you but it wasn’t anything serious. She nudged him in the ribs, “you’re pretty when you blush, don’t worry about it, Joel. But the two of you together - absolutely precious and heartwarming.”

“Ellie.”

“Just ask her out or something,” she suggested and Joel absolutely blushed and felt himself fumbling like a nervous boy rather than a grown man, “go to a movie, make her dinner, get a little act-”

“Ellie,” his eyes widened as the girl started to laugh, “don’t you dare finish that sentence, kid. You shouldn’t even know about that!”

“I just turned fifteen old man, in case you forgot,” yeah, she really liked to make him squirm, “we had a party and you were making eyes at her then too. Besides, I already know about sex, Joel. You don’t have to give me that talk.”

“Good - I wait, what were they teaching you in that FEDRA school?”

“Not the point - but you didn’t deny that you were making heart eyes,” she ducked out of his reach, giggling wildly as she ran in between the sheep, “ask her out!”

“You better keep running!” he started running after her, both of them laughing like the fools they were. 

This life really suited both of them. Now he just needed to get the girl - you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Need some help?" you turned around at the sound of his voice and almost fell off your ladder in the process. He was at your side and caught you in mere moments, "whoa there, trouble. You need to start being more careful!"

"It would help if you weren't sneaking up on me all the time," you were definitely trying to ignore the fact that he was currently holding you in his arms against his chest. He laughed, deep and hearty, and you could feel the sound vibrating in his chest.

"I don't consider it sneakin' if I'm coming up to you in broad daylight and announcing my presence," he gently set you back, and wiped some dirt off your face. His touch was a juxtaposition of rough and soft and managed to send shivers down your spine, "there - all better. Beautiful."

You'd already been warming up under his gaze but as soon as that singular word came out, you almost combusted on the spot. Part of you was sure that you had imagined it, a delusional bit of hope, but you also swore you could see the pink creeping into his cheeks.

"What did you say?" you looked at him with big, wide eyes and that's when it hit Joel. He'd actually voiced his innermost thoughts out loud. To you. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, "did you call me beautiful?"

"What? I, ugh, no?" He shrugged his shoulders as if to try and play it off. But you both knew he was lying, "I'd never say that!"

"Umm…thank you?" You were trying to keep your laughter contained. His face turned bright red and he groaned as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

"No, I didn't mean it like that. You are beautiful but I didn't mean to say it like that…?"

"Are you sure, Joel?" This time you had the upper hand as you reached over and brushed his hair out of his face, "are you asking me or telling me?"

"I'm telling you that you're beautiful-"

"Oh! So you do think I'm beautiful!" A huge smile spread across your face as Joel looked like he wished the ground would open up and swallow him while.

"I…fuck," he hung his head and sighed deeply.

"Oooh, you think I'm pretty!" You were going to have way too much fun with this. You were bouncing on your feet and gently nudging his shoulder, "Joel has a crush on me! He loves me!"

"I-" he couldn't even defend himself because everything you were saying was true. He just wasn't quite sure if he had been ready to admit that. But the way you were looking at him made it feel like you might have felt the same way. 

"You wanna kiss me, don't you?" You had no clue where this burst of confidence was coming from him, but for once you liked it, "'s okay, Joel. You can admit you're madly in love with me."

Joel's head was spinning and he felt a hundred different things at once. All he knew was that it was suddenly overwhelming. 

"I have to go," was all he could get out as he gently pushed past you. You made a small sound of surprise as you watched him go, his shoulders slumping. Oh. You really hoped you hadn't overstepped any boundaries or just made things completely awkward. 

"Fuck," you groaned at yourself, "fuck."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You decided to let things cool down for a few days before seeking him out again. You really just hoped that you hadn't messed things up with him.

You found him outside the small bar, leaning against the wall and staring up at the sky. He must have sensed you because he looked over and caught your eye, a pointedly neutral expression on his face.

"Hey," you walked over to him, hesitantly but relaxed when he didn't seem to recoil. 

"Hey," he replied, offering you a small nod. The two of you fell into silence for a bit as you looked up at the stars. You liked being able to see them here; they were so clear it felt like you could have touched them. 

"Umm," you broke the silence after a bit and swallowed down your nerves, "Listen, I just wanted to apologize for the other day. I didn't mean to…make things weird. I shouldn't have done it." 

He made a small sound before he turned to face you full on. Joel studied you for a moment, leaving your heart beating wildly. Before you even realized what was happening, he gently took your face in his hands, brushing his thumb over your cheek. 

His eyes flicked to yours, almost as if searching yours for permission. You gave him the most subtle of nods and he quickly closed the gap, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, tender kiss. 

When Joel did something, he didn't go halfway, he fully committed. And he kissed you as though his life depended on it, like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do in life. 

You pulled apart only when you needed to breathe, and even then it was reluctant. The smile you gave him almost made him weak in the eyes but he returned it, without hesitation or question.

"What you said," he paused for a moment, "it wasn't wrong. You're right, actually. All of it was true."

"Joel, I'm -" and then it hit you, "wait, what."

"It was true," he repeated, "all of it."

"Oh," you blinked a few times, "oh. You love me?"

"I do," he confirmed and it felt like your entire body was on fire, "I guess it just took you to finally get it out of me."

"I thought I said all the wrong things," you admitted breathlessly, "I was afraid I'd fucked everything up."

"No," he promised, "you didn't at all."

"You love me," you said dreamily as Joel just grinned at you, "and I love you. Wow."

"Wow," he teased softly, "what am I going to do with you, trouble?"

"Kiss me for starters."

"Yeah," he touched your cheek softly, "I can definitely do that."

[tkthrilla-writes]

What was in that drink?

An Alastor x reader fic. Slight warning of possessiveness might be needed but only for that one scene

His smile was as strained as it could ever be as he watched and felt his darling host get ready. Checking themselves out in the full-length mirror in the corridor, making sure that the nice and neat clothes that they have not worn in a very long time. Patting down the sides that looked like they are creasing, making sure that they are presentable for the night.

“You know my dear,” Alastor’s shadow parted from his host and appeared in the mirror as if he was an extension of the human, “you could just stay here with me,” he tried to act sly by getting in his host’s face, as if trying to seduce them into staying with them.

“Oh come on Al, it’s my turn to be switched out tonight, and we barely go out as is,” the human now started to fixate on their hair, trying to make sure that it was properly parted and styled. “Besides, you know this is a work thing that I can’t exactly get out of,” they started, “and didn’t you say you had business at the hotel and that is why I got today to be switched out.”

Since he was an almighty demon with almighty powers and abnormalities, his smile became more strained, literally stretching ear to ear while his brows gave away the scowl that he would convey had he been there in person. But alas he was bound to the shadows. And he couldn’t show his darling host his blatant disagreement without saying anything so she could spend more time with him.

“Ok, I am done,” she said, this brought him down to Earth and brought him back to reality, “and I am heading off,” she ended with a brilliant smile on her face, clearly looking forward to the evening.

“Now now my dearest,” he motioned as she started to walk to the door, only stopping by the kitchen counter to wear the nice shoes that are practically new despite owning them for a good year or so, before making a grab for the keys and moving closer to the door, “why not have a ball here with me instead of those retched and filthy people you work with.” He tried to gesture as best as he could through his parted shadow, but all he looked like was a wispy black smog that was tightly bound together to make his outer shape.

“Hey come on, it’s not like I am going to be gone that long anyways, beside you got stuff at the hotel you said you needed to do aaaaand,” she prolonged it as if it was going to be the next main and great point, “you get to have a break from me and have time to yourself! I know how much you hate being cooped up for so long.” Ending with a gentle smile that shocked Alastor, making him take his hand back at very slight shock and rendering him speechless. “Anyways, I’m off! Good luck at the hotel and see you later!” she smiled, and that was that, she was out the door, only a single light on for his sake otherwise the apartment would’ve been completely dark.

“I don’t want a break from you,” if he were human, he could’ve sworn he sounded heartbroken, but instead they came out as plain words with a lot of emotion trying to be hidden as the main meaning behind them. A good number of beats had passed with him standing by the door like a lost puppy waiting for his owner to return before he realised a good hour had passed. It was time for him to head back down to greet and terrorise the citizens of Hell.

But first… a quick side stop to a certain bar wouldn’t hurt one bit.

So dispersing back into the shadows, he started to travel half way across the city just to go to this one specific bar where his darling host is. Surely enough, there she was, Alastor could see her from the under the streetlight across the bar. She was laughing, looking like she was having a good time. Slimy Dave on the other hand looked like he was trying to pull some moves on her, but blissfully ignorant she just kept on talking with Channel. She looked so adorable, while she still put a lot of effort in dressing up, she was still decent compared to her female coworkers who tried their hardest to wear revealing clothes.

“Someone is looking to be sinful tonight?” Alastor thought to himself watching everyone interact with you. “Should be sinful with me instead,” he continued, thinking of all the people they could be out killing together. All the fun and chaos they could bring together.

All these thoughts started to leave a sour taste in his mouth the long he watched you laugh and interact with colleagues. Having enough, and in a very bad mood, he slammed his microphone on the ground, and in a split second he was now staring at the walls of his room at the hotel. He sneered at them as if they had done something wrong to him. The smile he held being gracefully fake, as he had enough on being in his room, and barged out the door. Making his way down the stairs were everybody was and greeting them with a boisterous “Hello Everyone!”

The three hours later the work was done, denizens of hell coming and going, the princess of Hell skipping around all happy at her success, the moth following close behind her. Meanwhile the cat stood behind the bar, as was his post to clean the glasses and make the drinks, all while being hovered by the flirtatious spider. Alastor spent a good second staring at them before deciding to fuck it, and walk over to them. She is out at the moment so he will be too.

“Your largest drink of your heaviest, my good Husker!” he demanded, pulling out a chair to seat himself on.

“Since when ya sit with us antlers! Not that I’m complaining ofcourse,” Angel said flirtatiously, arms and hands spread out as he leaned onto Alastor’s side.

“Do not be ridiculous,” Alastor replied, using the head of his microphone to push Angel’s face away, “I am merely here to enjoy a drink.”

“Kid does have a point,” Husker glared while pouring the radio demon his drink and sliding it right into the demon’s hand, “You don’t normally drink here. What’s wrong with you?”

“Well you see, it certainly has been a long week,” Alastor exclaimed, beating about the bush because why would he do the healthy thing and open up as to why he is upset. Only person he would do that to is not around and out on their own.

Self-absorbed into his rant, he failed to realise Angel’s bored expression leaning into Husker and ask the classic question, “What ya give ‘im?”

Husker just leaned while cleaning his next glass, “Water with 2 shots of absinthe,” Angeldust had to visibly stop himself from spit-taking his drink all over Husker before an evil grin spread across his face, one that he didn’t bother to hide as he watched Alastor take sip after sip between rants. “Give ‘im a couple more minutes, he’ll start singing like a canary,” Husker continued eyeing the poor demon that is has now fallen victim to his bartending skills.

Surely enough, the winged cat was right, Alastor had started to sway and slur at his words, as he finally arrived in ranting on about his week that has gotten him upset, “And then she said yes!”

“No!” Angel and Husker yelled out in sync, now invested in the drama that is between Alastor’s host and Alastor himself.

“Yes!” Alastor swayed, shifting his weight onto the bar, “can you actually believe that she said yes to going out with that blasted Dave and those filthy people she works with!”

“This ‘Dave’ sure sounds like a sleazeball!” Angel jumped in absolutely loving the drama of Alastor’s life.

“The sleaziest!” Alastor yelled lifting his microphone up in the air so hard he threw himself off his seat, and scrambled to grab the bar to catch himself before he fell to the ground, “he cannot see one living being with legs without trying to seducing it!” Hands now outstretched, face planted down on the bar, heaving heavily from getting even more heated up and angry than he already was.

“Why would she go out with them?! She should’ve stayed with me,” he straightened himself out, now standing, hands still down on the bar, but his eyes started to turn into radio dials turning, his head started to twitch, static started to play in the background, “SHE LEAVING ME!” he yelled out, his hands clutched so quickly he scratch the bar, leaving behind claw marks, and now static filled the air.

“You know Al,” the static now cut, his eyes now back to normal and looking at Charlie who had overheard and walked in on the conversation, “maybe you should talk to her about this and how you feel about it,” she said now starting to stutter and feel nervous under the attention Alastor was giving her with his intensive gaze.

“Yeah,” Angel jumped in starting to light a cigarette, “don’t get your panties in a twist, the gal is allowed to have her own night on the town. Can’t she?” he side-eyed Alastor, depending on his answer he would have been judging, but thankfully he did agree.

“Yes she may, she is her own human being-“

“Then what is the problem!” Vaggie jumped in getting fed of his temper tantrum.

“The problem is-!” he was about to finally admit it, but he got interrupted by his microphone literally ringing like a regular phone. “Hello?” he turned around, speaking into the microphone to answer, acting fully sober despite the little sway that was very evident to everyone at the bar.

“Hey Al, how are you doing?” the star of the show replied back for everyone to hear. Angel sucked in and started to choke on his cigarette, Husker spit out his drink, and Charlie just to shake Vaggie out of sheer excitement, “Is that what she sounds like?” she exclaimed, so full of excitement that you could see the hearts in her eyes.

Alastor turned away even more as everybody started to crowd on his to try to hear what the two were going to say, “Quick hectic as per the usual my dear, although some rascals do not know how to mind their own business,” he nearly snarled, trying to give everyone a threatening look to leave him alone but obviously it went ignored.

“You think you’ll be home soon? Got some tea to spill,” she trailed off.

“And what other mess did you get yourself into you little fox,” Alastor spoke deeper into the microphone, walking away from the piling sinners and princess who trailed behind him, somehow Nifty had joined in on their fun on trying to overhear his conversation. Brilliant.

“Not me, more like Donna… with Dave,” Angel choked on air and started to laugh as soon as he heard that, “sounds like it’s going to be double D up in the office tomorrow…” Angel started to wheeze at the innuendo.

“Where are you?” Alastor started to sound desperate, trying to leave, the prying eyes of the hotel.

“I’m at home-“

“Goodnight everyone!” Alastor turned to announced, arms outstretched in the air, proceeded to slam his microphone to the ground, and in a burst of light he was back in the apartment watching his dear human pour a glass of water.

“Hey Al,” she said smiling ear to ear.

“Hello darling, you’re home early,” he commented shifting his shadowed weight to stand next to her by the counter.

“Yeah everyone started to get drunk and I figured since we have work tomorrow I might as well leave early, everyone is still at the bar probably getting wasted,” she explained, drinking her water and started to make her way to the bathroom to get cleaned up for bed. “By the way,” she started, ripping off her clothes and putting them in the laundry basket, “who or what was that on your end of the line?”

Alastor let out radio glitch sound effect at the sudden question, “I do not know what you are talking about my dear,” he lied.

“Mhm sure,” the human figured out quickly that it was a lie and probably one of the people he talked about that help run the hotel, “now come on and jump in, got some tea you might like me to spill and an early night calling!” she stretched her arms, popping her stiff joints as she walked down the corridor.

Eager for everything to return back to normal and for him to accompany his host to rest in bed, he eagerly fused back into her body. However, something immediately felt off for the both of them. She immediately rushed back to the bathroom and threw herself to the toilet, luckily it was open, and whatever was in her stomach was now being wretched up into the toilet.

“The fuck is happening?! That was a $15 fat ass burger!” she heaved and proceeded to vomit a second time.

“Maybe it was all the drinking you have been doing,” Alastor replied in a passive aggressive manner, mostly because he also was feeling its effects and definitely the thought of her getting drunk and drinking with those lowly being she worked with being absolutely irritating.

“That’s bull! I’ve been,” she paused the heave before continuing, “been chugging water the whole night!” she then coughed up. “Hell no this was you,” she accused after finally calming down.

“And why would accuse me of doing this to us?!” Alastor got agitated.

“Well we know what affects you affects me so spill it! What did you drink?” she heaved even more, both of them feeling a wave of nausea coming over.

“…I will need to ask Husker tomorrow…” Alastor said blankly.

“AAAAaaaaaaalllll,” she groaned, “guess we are going into work with a hangover,” she sighed, the both of them now feeling absolutely exhausted.

[helloheyhihowdyheya]

Pity Party | p. 2

Carmy Berzatto x gn!reader

Masterlist Part One

Summary: Carmy takes you home, but you find yourself not ready to go yet

Word Count: ~3k

Warnings: Swearing, kissing, some mushiness, fluff, possibly incorrect info about cars

A/n: hi. I’m sorry for taking a million years on this. and I’m sorry it’s not longer. Thank you to anyone that read the first part and shared their interest <3 and thank you for reading this one. You all are the best

“Holy shit,” you said, food still in your mouth and hand wrapped around the taco. Your wide eyes glanced up to Carmy’s.

“Right?” He swallowed down his bite before grinning, his head bobbing up and down in an approving nod.

You’d replaced the claustrophobic party with a small taqueria that, despite the occasional yelling between the front person and cooks, was much more peaceful. It had too few people in it for how good the food tasted, but you wouldn’t complain about the lack of noise or drunken singing.

“All the dishes were created by Rosa. She owned this food truck back when I was a kid — way before she could open up this place. If you come back–”

“When I come back,” you corrected.

“When you come back,” he said with a grin, “Their shredded beef is top shit. She spends hours getting it just right. Or the nachos. Even their fucking nachos are insane.”

You laughed, suddenly wishing you’d ordered nachos — maybe if you had more time here. As you ate, you listened to Carmy continue telling you about the restaurant and Rosa and how the tastes come together just right. You didn’t think you’d ever thought that hard about food before, but you just listened to him explain.

Well, mostly. Sometimes you watched his eyes light up as he spoke. Or you focused on the smooth way his mouth formed around the words.

“Sorry, this can get annoying,” he said after a minute of explaining the flavor profile of the tres leches cake a past restaurant he’d worked at had, and how it was a twist on Rosa’s tres leches cake he’d had as a kid.

But you shook your head, your expression dropping into a frown at his sudden cynicism. “No, no. Keep going,” you offered, hoping your tone sounded as sincere as you felt. “It’s fascinating stuff. Does Rosa know that she inspired you?”

You kept asking him questions. Most of it was to feed your interest, but part of it was to hear him keep talking.

Taking a sip of water, you washed down the different flavors of the taco. “Thank you again for taking me here. You’re a two-time lifesaver now,” you said with a tired but grateful laugh. Your eyes glanced down to your phone, seeing that Richie gave a thumbs up to your message saying you got a ride home from Carmy.

“Course. And thanks again for paying,” he said with an almost incredulous laugh. “Though I still can’t believe you paid the guy before I could see what you were doing.”

You nodded, happily chewing. It was the least you could do since he saved your night from complete disaster. “You can grab food the next time you drive me home from a party while I’m covered in beer.”

“Christ, I hope that doesn’t happen again for your sake.” He wiped his hands on a napkin, balling it up onto his plate. He gestured a finger toward you, saying, “The guy that spilled on you sounded like a total douche.”

A smile broke out across your face as you swallowed down a bite. “He was. He had the ugliest polo and cargo short combo I’ve ever seen doing the grossest hip thrusts I’ve ever seen with a full cup. And that wasn’t even the worst part!” You couldn’t contain the giggles popping up through your words now. “I looked back at him while walking away — from the most half-assed apology I’d ever heard — and saw his toe shoes… The fucker was wearing toe shoes!”

Carmy almost spit out his water, choking on it as you spoke. When he finally recovered, he shook his head, saying, “Nah, you’re fucking with me. There’s no way.” His grin went wide as he laughed harder.

“No, I’m 100% serious. I nearly ran into someone cause I couldn’t take my eyes off of them — like a goddamn trainwreck or something.”

You relished in the sound of his laughter, letting it replace the image of that guy’s horrible footwear.

“Christ, that’s horrible.”

“You’re telling me,” you muttered, finishing up your food. Standing, you held out a hand for his plate. You threw away the trash, stacking the plates in a dish bin with the remnants of laughter stuck to you. By the time you came back to the table, Carmy was standing and putting his jacket back on.

He stared at you for a second, and you couldn’t read the look in his eyes. You smiled nonetheless. He just said, “Ready?”

“Yes,” you breathed out. It didn’t feel as cold walking to the van this time with a full stomach and being next to Carmy. The tender fuzziness wrapped throughout your body didn’t wane until after a few miles of driving. On a side road meant to take you to the freeway back into the city, the car began to lurch. Your gaze slid over to Carmy as the van gradually slowed.

You found his expression sinking into a frown as he pulled off onto the shoulder. The skin of his knuckle stretched taut, his hands gripping the wheel tight. Parked, he shut the car off and tried turning it back on. Your stomach sank when a click-click-click sound hit your ears.

His fingers firmly wrapped around the car keys stuck into the ignition. He tried turning them again, which only produced that clicking sound once more. One final try, a hail mary as you held your breath, as he tried again. But you let out a half sigh when the engine kept turning over.

He slumped back into his seat, his hand dropping from the keys to lie beside his leg. “Fuck…” he breathed out, wiping the other hand across his forehead and along his hairline.

You opened your mouth, hoping to say something helpful, but nothing worked its way past the worry lining your throat. So you pressed your lips back together. You just nodded when he told you, “Let me see if I can look under the hood,” and made his way to the front of the van. Your eyes flitted between looking at the way his face wrinkled as he felt for the hood release and your fingers picking at your nails.

Flickers of the flashlight from Carmy’s phone passed from either side of the popped hood. A few minutes later, your eyebrows rose expectantly at him as soon as he came back. “What’s the prognosis?” you asked.

He sighed while closing the door, glancing to you. “It’s been a while since I’ve worked on cars, but there’s definitely a leak. With how hot it felt under there, I’d guess it’s the coolant.”

You breathed out, your eyebrows sinking into a disappointed frown. “So a tow truck it is.”

“Yeah…” he said, “I’m sorry, let me- I’ll order you a ride.” His words sounded defeated as he fished out his phone from his jean pocket.

“Oh, you don’t…” The words slipped past your lips before you could register what you were saying — before you could recognize the sharp feelings in your chest that sparked the words. Carmy turned to look at you, his attention fixed on the end of your sentence. Beneath his stare, you found it hard to think much beyond how much you weren’t ready for the night to end.

Clearing your throat, you slowly said, “You don’t have to do that. I could, um, wait with you.” With your heart beating against your ribs, you added, “I mean, if you wouldn’t mind me sticking around.”

His finger paused, hovering over his phone screen. After a beat, the corner of his mouth lifted into a hesitant smile. “Uh, no. ‘f course not,” he said. “But it could be awhile before a truck gets here.”

Smiling, you shrugged. “Okay.”

And you watched him nod as a bigger smile spread across his face, like sunshine sneaking through the crack of a door. Your gaze flitted around the van’s interior and the dark side of the road while he called the towing company. But your attention was back on him when he hung up.

A small sigh accompanied his words. “They said it could be an hour. Maybe more.”

“Okay, well,” you started but paused, feeling warm all over. You hadn’t quite thought this far ahead. And now, in the soft silence of the van, his attention sat entirely on you. Quickly, you glanced into the back of the van, eyeing all of the boxes that sat there. With a slight grin, you continued, “Well now that we have some time to kill, I have to ask what’s all back here.”

Carmy shifted, looking to the back as well. “God, sorry about the mess. Most of it’s just supplies for The Beef… And Richie’s stupid fucking shirts for the restaurant.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Well shirts aren’t so bad. They can be good advertising for–”

“They say ‘The Original Berf.’”

“Oh.” You let out a small laugh, which grew with each breath because of course they said that. The way Carmy shook his head only furthered your giggling. Eventually, once your laughter died down, you eyed the back again. “How many shirts are in there?”

He looked back again, reaching a hand back to flip up the top of a box behind your seat. “Uh, maybe 20? Why?”

Pursing your lips, you asked, “Do you think there’s a shirt my size in there?” And at Carmy’s laugh, your mouth pulled into a smile.

“Let me see…”

He stretched toward the back, his hand gripping the side of your seat. With his body just a few inches away, waves of warmth rolled off of him. Your eyes couldn’t help trailing the curls of his hair or the dips and wrinkles of his sweater around his body.

When the rustling stopped, and your gaze elsewhere, he finally pulled back with a dark navy shirt in his hands. “Here you go.”

Giving a quiet, “Thank you,” you unfolded the shirt and held it up. It looked to be about your size, so you began unbuckling your seatbelt. “Um, could you– I mean, do you mind?” you asked, holding the shirt close to you, unsure of how to ask him to give you privacy in the car.

Thankfully, he got the message and turned the other way. “Yeah, yeah. Just, uh, let me know if it doesn’t fit.”

Hesitantly, your fingers wrapped around the hem of your shirt. You briefly relished in the feeling of finally taking off your beer-stained shirt, enjoying the air from the car’s vents against your skin. You pulled down the new shirt and said, “Okay, you’re good to look.”

You shifted it this way and that until it felt right. As you looked down and read that it did indeed read “The Original Berf,” another laugh slipped from your mouth.

You looked at Carmy as he said, “Richie calls it a collector’s item.”

“Of course he does,” you muttered with a grin. The feeling of a dry, smell-free shirt had you thanking him again. “This might bring you up to saving me three times tonight.” You turned to look at him, the left side of your body resting against the back of your seat. Your head tilted, leaning into the headrest.

“Well, you’re spending tonight waiting for a tow truck with me, so I’d say we’re about even.”

You let out a quiet hum, pursing your lips. “If we’re even… then could I ask you a favor?”

He was now turned toward you, his head tilted the same way. His hands sat in his lap, his fingers fidgeting every couple of seconds. Yet his expression looked almost calm as he said, “Yeah, anything.”

–

So there you both were, lying on the hood of his van looking up at the stars. With a sturdy enough box to use as a step and a thermal blanket beneath your bodies, you and Carmy set up a place to stargaze side by side. The night air and moonlight kissed your skin as you raised a hand, pointing out another constellation.

The occasional car passed by. A soft siren echoed in the distance. But sitting far enough away from the city, you could hear as the frogs and crickets sang their songs in the grasses nearby. You couldn’t help but think they sounded nice beneath the rumble of Carmy’s voice as he spoke.

“My family didn’t take road trips or anything like that, but uh, my brother took me west one night — when we were young. Honestly, I think he was just pissed at our family and wanted to get out,” he explained with his hands clasped together over his stomach. His chest rose and fell while his gaze stayed fixed on the Hercules constellation above. “But he drove the two of us out of the city and woke me up after. And it was just some field. I was so mad that he dragged me all the way out to a cornfield in the middle of the night.” He shook his head and let out a soft laugh, one filled with a sort of fondness, as if the memory played before his eyes.

“He told me to shut the fuck up and look at the stars. So we sat there on the hood of our mom’s piece of shit car, and he told me about the constellations.” He paused, a soft smile playing on his lips. “But he didn’t know shit about constellations. He made it all up. I started to catch on when he pointed out the little dipper for the third time.”

A smile of your own spread across your face. You turned your head to look at him better, to watch the creases wrinkle around his eyes. “That sounds really nice,” you whispered. “To get out and escape once and awhile.”

“Yeah. It is…” Like now. The words seemed to dance between the two of you.

“Can you point out the little dipper to me?” you asked. “We wouldn’t want all his hard work teaching to go to waste.”

With a laugh, Carmy nodded and looked back to the sky. His hand raised, pointing to stars off to the right. “You see those four stars there that make a rectangle? That’s the cup. And those three,” he said, tracing his finger up in a curve, “make the handle.”

You nodded along. “I’m surprised you didn’t do much stargazing in your fabulous Copenhagen days,” you teased.

A groan left his mouth. “Cooking in Copenhagen leaves you no time for stargazing.”

“Sounds like cooking in Chicago leaves you without any time, either,” you whispered, watching as his hand dropped back down, his eyes locking onto yours.

He didn’t say anything at first, and an icy uncertainty began to creep up your spine. He turned his body onto his side to face it. “It leaves time for some things,” he said, melting away the worry and replacing it with burning hope. You turned toward him, too.

“Like what?” you breathed out, letting your fingers inch closer to his in the space between you. With him so close, you became acutely aware of everything around you. The bumps of the hood beneath you, the crinkle of the blanket with each movement, the intensity in the way he listened to your every word.

His gaze skipped around your face as he said, “Like a first date.”

You raised your eyebrows, turning your nose at him. “We just had our first date. Doesn’t a private dinner and stargazing sound romantic to you?” you asked. But you could only tease for so long, could only keep the sincerity at arm’s length until you were weak to it.

“Let me take you out for real,” he answered, grinning at you. His eyes continued to glance down to your lips. You felt your heartbeat in your ears. You barely ignore the uneasy excitement building in your chest. “Let me kiss you.”

Brief moments passed like hours before you nodded, before his hand brushed along your jaw and cupped your face. In an instant, your eyes shut as his mouth pressed to yours — like they were made to fit together. Your body molded to his, your muscles melting at his touch. Your fingers gripped his shirt, then his hair when it wasn’t enough. An almost desperate groan came from the back of his throat when you broke away to breathe.

He kept kissing you, only letting you get small gasps of air here and there. And the comforting feel of him nearly felt more important than breathing anyway. It left you in a dizzying addiction to his touch.

His nose nudged against yours with each kiss, his hold on you solid and unmoving. You didn’t know how much time had passed there in his embrace before lights hit your eyelids. Slowly, the sound of a car approaching reached your ears, making you pull away from Carmy.

A truck came closer as you sat up, your body already missing the warmth of Carmy. The lights on top of the truck told you it was here to tow the van. Looking back at Carmy, you watched as he adjusted his shirt and hair before hopping off the hood. You took his hand to get down yourself, smiling as he squeezed your hand.

He left your side to speak with the tow truck driver, but his eyes never left you for long. The butterflies in your stomach never left either, not with the soft way he looked at you.

The journey home passed in a blur, the tired goodbye and quick kiss as you parted ways. Not even Richie, who arrived home next door at the same time as you and immediately noticed your changed shirt, could dull the smile on your face. Though when he asked how your night with Carmy was and obnoxiously wiggled his eyebrows, he came close.

You merely muttered, “Shut up,” before closing your door on him. And finally back in your apartment, you could shower and change — relishing in the clean and dry feeling. Even the sharpness of the vinegar you poured into a bowl was a relief. Diluting it with water per Carmy’s instructions, you mixed it together before dipping your shirt in.

And you thought of him the entire time, unable to keep a smile off your face as you washed off your shirt to find it stain-free

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Sacrifices/ BTR Book 2: a Jhea Fanfic.

Chapter 9: Liv, Liv, Liv, Dom, Dom, Dom..

January 31st, 2025 7:29 PM

The front door clicked shut as Jey watched his ex-wife, Takecia, head to her car. He lingered for a moment, collecting his thoughts, before he turned back into the house. The evening had gone surprisingly well. Despite the complex dynamics of their blended family, there was a comfortable warmth among them tonight. He felt a sense of relief, knowing Takecia trusted him and Rhea to take care of Jaciyah and Jeyce while she got everything sorted in her new apartment.

Rhea, meanwhile, was already back at the table, serving herself yet another slice of yellow cake smothered in chocolate frosting. She looked perfectly content, her eyes lighting up as she cut herself a generous piece.

Jey couldn’t help but smirk as he joined her in the dining room. “So… Jeyce is going through puberty now, huh?” he teased, recalling his son’s earlier, awkward excuse for his freshly braided hair and dressed-up look.

Rhea laughed, covering her mouth as she swallowed a bite of cake. “Oh, that’s all on you and Takecia,” she replied, wagging her fork at him with a playful grin. “I don’t want any part in those conversations.”

Jey shuddered slightly at the thought, still getting used to the idea of Jeyce going through the same teenage years he once did. He leaned over, noticing the half-empty container of chocolate frosting beside Rhea’s plate. He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“So, we still have some leftover frosting,” he remarked, casually reaching over and tapping the container.

Rhea arched an eyebrow back at him, her curiosity piqued. “And?”

A sly smile crept across Jey’s face as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “I could think of a few ways we could use that frosting.”

Rhea laughed, pushing her chair back just slightly. “Oh, really?” she challenged, giving him a playful, daring look. “Well, you’re going to have to catch me first.”

Before Jey could respond, Rhea was already on her feet, darting toward the stairs. He grabbed the frosting container and chased after her, his laughter echoing through the house as they bolted up the steps. She turned her head just in time to catch his eager grin, her heart pounding with excitement and joy.

As they reached the bedroom, Rhea managed to slip inside first, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “You think you’re quick, huh?” she teased, watching as he slowed to a stop, catching his breath.

Jey held up the container of frosting, a playful glint in his eye. “Just wait, babe. You’re not getting away that easily.”

With a laugh, Rhea pulled him inside, her playful gaze meeting his as the door clicked shut behind them. It was moments like this that reminded them both of the deep bond they shared—not just as partners, but as best friends. They were now each other’s safe haven, each other’s joy, and no matter what challenges lay ahead, they knew they could always find comfort in one another.

They just didn’t know what lay ahead..

—

As Jeyce and Jaciyah approached Demi’s house, the two brothers got out of the car, and Jeyce took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves wash over him.

“I’m nervous,” Jeyce admitted, his voice a little shaky.

Jaciyah chuckled, giving his little brother a reassuring pat on the back. “It’s too late to back out now, bro. You got this.”

Taking a steadying breath, Jeyce walked up to the door and knocked. The door swung open to reveal a tall, muscular man with a biker-like presence—covered in tattoos, with a rugged appearance that immediately commanded respect. He looked from Jeyce to Jaciyah, his brows furrowing.

“I hope you’re not Jeyce,” the man said in a low voice, looking directly at Jaciyah.

Jeyce, sensing the opportunity to make a good impression, stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Hello, Mr. Barkley. My name is Jeyce, and this is my chaperone for tonight, my brother Jaciyah.” He held out his hand with as much confidence as he could muster.

Mr. Barkley’s serious expression softened slightly as he looked down at Jeyce’s outstretched hand. Impressed by the young boy’s manners, he shook it firmly, giving Jeyce an approving nod. “Nice to meet you, Jeyce. Come on in.”

Jeyce and Jaciyah stepped into the house, taking in the cozy surroundings. As they did, Jaciyah’s gaze quickly shifted to the girl standing beside Demi. She had striking red and black hair that cascaded down her shoulders in loose waves, paired with a black V-neck long-sleeve shirt. She wore ripped blue jeans and black and white Nike dunks, exuding an effortlessly cool vibe. Her makeup was subtle yet accentuated her features perfectly.

The girl’s eyes met Jaciyah’s, and a playful grin tugged at her lips as she stepped forward. “Are you Jeyce?” she asked, her voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Jaciyah, momentarily taken aback by her beauty, managed to find his voice. “No… I’m Jaciyah.” He extended his hand, and she took it with a confident shake.

She chuckled softly. “I know, I was just messing with you. I’m Dayanara—Daya, for short. Demi’s older sister, and I’ll be chaperoning tonight too.” Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, her eyes filled with mischief.

Jaciyah felt his heart skip a beat, but he did his best to keep his cool. “Nice to meet you, Daya.”

Demi, watching the interaction, nudged Jeyce with her elbow and whispered, “Looks like your brother’s already smitten.”

Jeyce grinned, whispering back, “He’s not as smooth as he thinks.”

Just then, Mr. Barkley cleared his throat, gathering everyone’s attention. “Alright, you all know the rules. Stay together, behave, and be back here by 9:30 PM sharp. Understand?”

Daya rolled her eyes playfully, clearly used to her dad’s protectiveness. “Yes, Dad, we know. We’ll keep an eye on them.”

Demi chimed in, giving her dad a reassuring smile. “We’ll be good, dad. Promise.”

Mr. Barkley nodded, satisfied. He looked at Jeyce and Jaciyah with a stern but approving gaze. “Take care of my daughters you two..”

Jeyce nodded back, his voice steady. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“Most definitely will, thank you.” Jaciyah added.

With the rules set, Daya led the way to her car, a black Chevrolet Malibu. As they walked out, Jaciyah stole another glance at her, marveling at her confidence and beauty.

As they all climbed into the car, Jaciyah couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement bubbling within him. Demi and Jeyce were sitting in the back, sharing quiet, excited whispers, while he and Daya sat up front. Daya looked over at him, raising an eyebrow with a playful smirk.

“You okay there, Jaciyah?” she teased, noticing his lingering gaze.

Jaciyah blushed slightly, clearing his throat. “Yeah… just didn’t expect my night to be this interesting.”

Daya chuckled, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Tonight’s just getting started.”

With that, they pulled out of the driveway, the night ahead filled with promise and excitement as each of them anticipated what the evening had in store.

—

Rhea stood up, grabbing her clothes from the floor, and headed toward the bathroom. Jey followed, scooping up his own clothes to change into something comfy. As he bent over to pick up his sweatpants, Rhea smirked and playfully smacked him on the derrière.

"What a dump truck..." she teased, laughing.

Jey straightened, giving her a look of mock disbelief as he rubbed the spot. "Damn, girl. Is this how you feel when I smack your ass?”

"Maybe," Rhea replied with a chuckle, tossing her clothes over her shoulder.

Jey grinned and followed her into the bathroom. They showered together, joking and laughing as the warm water washed over them. Afterward, they both changed into their coziest pajamas: Jey in gray joggers and a tank top, and Rhea in an oversized band tee and shorts.

As they made their way downstairs, Rhea went to the kitchen to make popcorn for their movie night. She had just finished when her phone buzzed on the counter. Seeing Liv's name, she smiled and answered.

"Hey, buttercup," Rhea said, cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear.

"Rheaaaaaaa!" Liv's voice was bright and excited. "What are you doing, my awesome blossom?"

Rhea laughed. "Me and baby daddy are about to watch a movie. What about you?"

Liv groaned. "Me and Dom are about to board a plane to Stamford, but our hotel just canceled on us. They overbooked! Total disaster."

Rhea frowned. "What? That's so annoying. Do you need a place to stay?"

"That's actually why I'm calling," Liv saio sheepishly. "Could we crash at your place for the weekend? We've got a last-minute corporate meeting tomorrow morning."

"Of course! You know you're always welcome," Rhea said without hesitation.

"Really? You're a lifesaver!" Liv exclaimed.

"We'll get in around 2 a.m. Hope that's okay."

"No problem," Rhea assured her. "I'll send you the address and door codes. I'll set up the guest room, so when you get here, just head upstairs. The door will be open."

"Thank you, Rhea. You're the best! I love you Blossom!” Liv said.

"Love you too, Buttercup..” Rhea said before hanging up.

She walked over to the living room, where Jey was lounging on the couch, scrolling through movie options. "Liv and Dom are staying with us this weekend," she said, placing the popcorn on the coffee table and sitting beside him.

Jey raised an eyebrow. "Staying here? When are they getting in?"

"2 a.m. Their hotel canceled on them, so l told them they could crash here."

Jey chuckled, shaking his head. "You're too nice. Ultimate host."

Rhea grinned. "What can I say? I take care of my people."

Jey pulled her closer, draping an arm around her. "Well, that means we've got the rest of the night to ourselves before the chaos starts."

"Exactly," Rhea said, grabbing a handful of popcorn. "Now, what movie are we watching?"

Jey grinned, holding up the remote. "Baby Boy. You're gonna love it."

Rhea groaned playfully. "You're always making me watch movies I've never seen."

"And you always end up liking them," Jey teased, hitting play.

They snuggled up together as the movie started, the sound of their laughter blending with the dialogue on screen. It was a perfect, cozy night before their friends arrived and the weekend brought its own set of adventures.

—

As the credits for Baby Boy rolled, Rhea leaned back into Jey, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. The popcorn bowl sat empty on the coffee table, and the quiet hum of the TV filled the cozy living room. The warmth of the evening wrapped around them, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

“You ever think about dyeing your mullet again?” Rhea asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Jey tilted his head, giving her a playful side-eye. “Dye it again? What color this time?”

Rhea grinned, her fingers tracing little patterns on his arm. “I’m thinking purple and blue.”

Jey chuckled, shaking his head. “Purple and blue? Girl, you trying to make me look like a wrestling unicorn.”

She laughed, giving his arm a light shove. “No, I’m serious. It’d look good on you. Trust me.”

He smiled, clearly entertained by her suggestion. “Alright, maybe. I’ll ask Liv and Dom when they get here if they can hook me up. Don’t want any of those fumes near you, though, preggers.”

Rhea’s heart warmed at his thoughtfulness, and she leaned up to kiss his cheek. “You’re sweet, you know that?”

“Only for you,” Jey replied with a smirk, wrapping his arm around her.

Just then, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house. Both Jey and Rhea turned their heads as Jeyce and Jaciyah walked in, their faces lit up with matching, goofy grins.

Jey glanced at the clock on his phone and raised an eyebrow. “There you guys are. You’ve been gone a while.”

Rhea chimed in with a teasing smile, “Yeah, an awfully long time for a job application.”

Jaciyah scratched the back of his neck, trying to play it cool. “Uh, yeah, we decided to grab milkshakes after.”

Jeyce nodded enthusiastically. “Yup, a nice cherry milkshake.”

Jey and Rhea exchanged a look, both raising an eyebrow. The boys’ expressions were a dead giveaway—something more than milkshakes had them grinning like fools.

“Just milkshakes?” Jey asked, crossing his arms and leaning back on the couch.

Jaciyah nodded quickly. “Yup, just milkshakes. That’s all.”

Rhea narrowed her eyes playfully, trying to suppress a laugh. “Uh-huh. And here I thought you two didn’t even like cherry.”

Jeyce’s grin faltered for a second before he recovered. “We’re broadening our horizons.”

Jey shook his head, smirking. “Alright, alright. Well, Liv and Dom are coming over tonight, so, Jaciyah, can you help set up the guest bedroom?”

Jaciyah’s grin widened, and he nodded eagerly. “Anything you need, Dad.”

Without another word, both boys bounded up the stairs, whispering and chuckling to each other like they were sharing the greatest secret in the world.

Once the boys were out of sight, Jey and Rhea turned to each other, both wearing bemused expressions.

“That was weird,” Jey said, shaking his head.

Rhea leaned against him, her eyes still on the staircase. “Really weird. They looked like they just walked out of a rom-com.”

Jey let out a low whistle. “Well, looks like we’re in for an interesting weekend.”

Rhea nodded, her hand resting on his chest as she snuggled closer. “Let’s just hope Liv and Dom are ready for the chaos when they get here.”

Jey grinned, wrapping his arm tighter around her. “They better be. With those two upstairs acting all smitten, we’re gonna need backup.”

Rhea laughed softly, already imagining the teasing and stories to come. “This house just keeps getting more entertaining.”

—

Meanwhile, before Jeyce and Jaciyah had arrived home, the two pairs were still out, soaking in the last moments of the night. At one table, Jaciyah and Daya sat across from each other, sharing a banana split. At another, Jeyce and Demi were locked in their own little world, sharing a cherry milkshake, each taking turns sipping through the straw while exchanging shy smiles.

Jaciyah leaned back in his chair, spoon in hand, and asked, “So, why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”

Daya laughed softly, her eyes lighting up. “Well, I’m 17, and I’m already in college on a full ride to the University of New Haven. I’m studying Biochemistry.”

Jaciyah’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Biochemistry? Full ride? That’s impressive.”

Daya shrugged, her cheeks tinged with a hint of modest pride. “Thanks. I’ve always been a bit of a science nerd.”

Jaciyah nodded, clearly impressed. “That’s cool. I was supposed to enroll next week to finish up my senior year, but I’m thinking about talking to my dad and mom about enrolling online instead.”

Daya tilted her head curiously. “Rhea’s your bonus mom too, right?”

Jaciyah chuckled. “Yeah, she is. She’s been in our lives for a while now, and honestly, she’s been great.”

Daya smiled, stirring her spoon in the melting ice cream. “That’s awesome. So, if you’re not going back to school in person, what’s the plan? You wouldn’t want to wrestle like your dad?”

Jaciyah thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “Nah, wrestling’s cool and all, but it’s not for me. I actually want to be a police officer.”

Daya’s eyes sparkled with admiration. “Wow, that’s awesome. Stepping out of that shadow, huh?”

Jaciyah smiled, feeling seen. “Yeah, exactly. It’s important to me to find my own path, you know?”

Daya nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense. So, what made you want to go into law enforcement?”

Jaciyah shrugged, his tone serious but passionate. “I’ve always been about helping people. I want to make a difference, you know? Be someone people can rely on.”

“That’s admirable,” Daya said, genuinely impressed. “The world could use more people like that.”

Jaciyah grinned. “Thanks. So, what made you want to pursue biochemistry? That sounds intense.”

Daya’s eyes lit up with excitement. “I’ve always loved science, but biochemistry caught my interest because of how it connects to real-world applications. I want to specialize in research and development, specifically in biotech. I like to imagine myself being part of creating life-changing medical advancements.”

Jaciyah leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “That’s incredible. You could end up saving lives.”

Daya smiled, a soft blush creeping up her cheeks. “That’s the goal. What about you? Any dream departments in mind if you become an officer?”

Jaciyah shrugged, his tone thoughtful. “I’d like to work in community policing or maybe even detective work. Something where I can really be involved in making neighborhoods safer.”

Daya nodded, her respect for him growing. “Sounds like you’ve got a solid plan.”

Meanwhile, at their table, Demi twirled the straw in the almost empty cherry milkshake, her cheeks tinged pink. She glanced over at her sister and Jaciyah, who were deep in conversation, then back at Jeyce. “I think my sister really likes your brother,” she said, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Jeyce chuckled, his eyes never leaving Demi. “Well, I’m glad… because I really like you.”

Demi’s blush deepened, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m glad you enjoyed the listening party as much as I did,” she said softly, her voice almost shy.

Jeyce took another sip of the milkshake before sliding it over to her. “I liked it a lot. My favorite song was This Night Has Opened My Eyes from their Louder Than Bombs album. What about you?”

Demi’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling. “I really liked This Charming Man. It’s such a vibe.”

Jeyce smiled, clearly enjoying the way her face lit up when she talked about something she loved. “That’s a great one too.”

There was a brief moment of silence, filled only by the ambient noise of the small diner. Then, Jeyce took a deep breath and asked, “Does this mean… we’re boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Demi giggled, her cheeks turning a deep shade of red. She reached across the table, her hand hovering for a moment before clasping his. “Of course.”

Jeyce’s face broke into a wide grin, his heart racing in that giddy, almost teenage way. Their hands fit perfectly, and in that moment, nothing else mattered. It was just the two of them, their world reduced to a single booth in a quiet corner of the diner.

Young almost teenage love, pure and unfiltered, filled the space between them as they shared soft smiles and the quiet excitement of something new and beautiful.

—

Daya pulled up in front of Demi’s house, the soft hum of the engine cutting off as everyone stepped out of the car. The porch light flickered slightly, casting a warm glow on the small group.

Jaciyah lingered near the car, shuffling his feet a bit before finally speaking. “So, uh, can I get your number at least?”

Daya chuckled, her red and black hair catching the light as she reached for his phone. “Here,” she said, quickly typing her number into his contacts. Handing the phone back, she added with a smirk, “I’ll be back next weekend if you want to hang out.”

Jaciyah’s face lit up. “For sure.”

Before he could say anything else, Daya leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek. Jaciyah froze for a moment, his face turning a bright shade of red, and then he broke into a grin reminiscent of Patrick Star when Mindy kissed him in The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie. He looked like he was on cloud nine.

Seeing his brother momentarily dazed, Jeyce seized the opportunity. He leaned in close to Demi and gave her a quick, shy peck on the lips. It was brief but enough to make his heart race.

“That… that was my first kiss,” Jeyce admitted, his voice stuttering, overwhelmed with emotion. “So, uh, don’t make fun of me.”

Demi laughed softly, her eyes sparkling. “Never,” she promised, brushing a hand lightly against his arm.

The girls headed toward the house, waving as they disappeared inside. Jeyce and Jaciyah got back into their dad’s Mercedes, the silence in the car quickly filled with laughter.

As Jaciyah started the engine, Jeyce leaned back in his seat, a goofy smile plastered on his face. “I think I like puberty.”

Jaciyah burst out laughing, shaking his head as he pulled out of the driveway. “Man, you’re wild. Let’s get home before Dad and Rhea think we got lost.”

—

Liv and Dominik picked up their rental car from the airport, the late-night flight leaving them both tired and slightly on edge. It had been a long trip, and as they headed toward Rhea and Jey’s house, Liv couldn’t help but voice her discomfort.

“We are not taking any more late-night flights,” she said, stretching out her legs as she sank into the passenger seat.

Dominik, who was already struggling to keep his eyes open, let out a tired chuckle. “I’m already sleep-deprived,” he replied, glancing over at her with a small grin.

Liv shifted in her seat and smiled back. “Well, when we get there, will you massage my back? I can’t feel it at all..”

Dominik nodded, giving her a reassuring look. “Of course, you know I’ve got you.”

As they drove through the quiet road, the peace was shattered when a car suddenly turned on its high beams, blinding Dominik. He winced and squinted through the bright lights.

“What the hell?” Liv exclaimed, turning around to see the car behind them. The vehicle started honking loudly, its driver aggressively tailgating them.

Dominik frowned, his grip tightening on the wheel. “I don’t know what this guy’s problem is, but he’s on my tail.”

Liv glanced back again, her eyes wide with concern. “Dominik, lose them.”

“I’m trying!” Dominik growled, swerving into another lane, but the car behind them mirrored every move, following closely. The aggressive driver wasn’t letting up.

Before they knew it, the car was pushing against their rental, shoving them off course. Dominik’s heart raced as he struggled to regain control.

“Hold on!” Dominik shouted, slamming the brakes as the car skidded off the road, crashing into a ditch.

The impact threw both of them forward, and Liv hit her head against the side window. She winced, trying to shake off the disorientation as Dominik quickly unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Liv! Are you okay?” His voice was frantic, his hands reaching for her as she clutched her head.

Liv nodded, trying to regain her bearings. “Yeah, I think so. Just… a little dazed.”

They both looked ahead and heard the revving of an engine, the unmistakable sound of tires screeching. Dominik’s eyes widened, realizing the danger wasn’t over.

“Unbuckle, now!” he yelled, grabbing her hand and pulling it toward the door. Liv quickly obeyed, opening the door just as the massive headlights of a truck barreled toward them.

In a split second, they both jumped out of the car, narrowly escaping as the souped-up black four-by-four truck rammed into their rental car. The collision rocked the ground beneath them, but the truck didn’t stop. It backed up and sped off into the night, disappearing quickly from sight.

Liv and Dominik stood frozen in the ditch, their adrenaline pumping, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Liv clutched her head, still shaken from the impact. Dominik held her close, his eyes scanning the area, knowing they weren’t safe yet.

“What the hell was that?” Liv whispered, looking at the wrecked car, her voice trembling with disbelief.

“I don’t know,” Dominik said, his voice tense. “But that was no accident. Whoever was driving that truck—they were trying to take us out.”

They both stood there in stunned silence, the reality of the situation sinking in.

Dominik looked around, trying to think of their next move. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

But as they started to move toward the road, the sound of an engine returned, faint but growing louder. Liv and Dominik’s hearts raced as they turned, instinctively ducking behind some trees as a car approached.

The headlights of the vehicle blinded them momentarily, but they could make out the shape of the black truck, now circling them. It was back.

Liv gasped, clutching onto Dominik’s arm. “They’re coming back for us!”

Dominik’s mind raced. He had to think fast. They couldn’t keep hiding forever. “We need to move, fast. Find a place with people, get help.”

Without wasting another second, they sprinted through the woods, adrenaline fueling their escape. Their phones were out of service, leaving them with no way to call for help.

After what felt like forever, they finally spotted a faint light in the distance. A gas station, and a small convenience store attached to it. They bolted toward it, not caring about the time or how far they’d run. They just needed to be around other people—get somewhere safe.

Once inside, they immediately made their way to the counter, but the clerk behind it looked… off. There was something in his eyes—a nervousness, a tension that made Liv uneasy.

“Can I help you?” the man asked, his voice shaky.

“We need to call the police,” Dominik said, his voice firm. “We were attacked. Someone ran us off the road.”

The clerk hesitated, his eyes flicking toward the door. “I… I don’t think you should make that call here.”

Liv raised an eyebrow, confused. “Why not?”

The clerk lowered his voice, clearly nervous. “There’s been a lot of… strange stuff happening around here. People disappearing. People that drive cars like the one that just ran you off the road. It’s been happening for two weeks ever since those fancy people don’ moved in up at New Canaan border.”

Liv’s stomach dropped, Rhea and Jey. “Disappearing?”

The clerk nodded quickly, leaning in slightly. “I don’t know much, but… there’s something going on. I don’t know if it’s the same people, but something’s not right.”

Liv’s heart raced as the tension in the air thickened. The clerk’s behavior was growing more bizarre, and she could feel the sense of dread weighing heavily on her shoulders.

“Please, we just need to borrow a phone,” Liv pleaded, desperation creeping into her voice. “We’ve been attacked. We need help.”

The clerk shifted nervously behind the counter, casting furtive glances toward the door and then back at them. His eyes were filled with unease, and he chewed nervously on his lip before speaking.

“Only the man makes the call, sweetie,” he said, his voice low and strained.

Dominik exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling up inside him. “Look, anything. Please, we just need a phone. We were nearly killed out there, we need to contact the police.”

The clerk hesitated for a moment longer, glancing around the dimly lit store before slowly stepping out from behind the counter. His movements were cautious, as though afraid of something or someone.

Liv’s instincts screamed that something wasn’t right. She glanced at Dominik, who was equally uneasy.

“I’ll go in the back with him,” Dominik muttered, his protective instinct kicking in. “I’ll make the call.”

The clerk motioned for him to follow, his footsteps heavy on the creaky floorboards as he led Dominik into a back room. Liv stood frozen for a moment, her eyes darting around the gas station, trying to figure out what was going on. It felt wrong—everything about this place felt off.

A few moments passed before Dominik returned, his face tight with frustration. He walked briskly toward Liv, shaking his head.

“They said a unit’s close by,” he said quietly. “They should be here in a few minutes.”

Liv let out a relieved sigh, but the clerk’s odd behavior was still eating at her.

Dominik turned toward the counter to thank the clerk, but the man quickly responded with a low, hushed voice, his eyes darting around nervously. “Alright now, y’all get on now, ya hear? I don’t want to attract anyone here. This used to be a quiet place before those people moved to the New Canaan border.”

The mention of “those people” sent a cold shiver down Liv’s spine. She glanced at Dominik, exchanging a worried look.

She wasn’t going to let it go that easily. “Just one more thing,” Liv said, her voice steady despite the anxiety creeping up on her. “Is it a black four-by-four truck? The one that ran us off the road?”

The clerk froze. His eyes widened briefly, and Liv caught a fleeting glimpse of fear before he quickly masked it with a forced smile. He didn’t answer her question directly. Instead, he spoke more urgently, his hand brushing the counter as if to shove them along.

“You two need to leave,” the clerk said, his voice firm. “Go on now. No more questions. I don’t want to attract attention. Just get out.”

He quickly walked toward the front door, flipping the lock and shoving them out of the store without a second glance. Liv and Dominik barely had time to process the situation before the door slammed shut behind them, the sound of the lock clicking in place echoing through the quiet night.

“What the hell was that?” Liv muttered, still feeling the remnants of fear in her chest.

Dominik shook his head, gripping her arm lightly as he looked toward the road. “I don’t know, but we need to get out of here, now. Something’s not right.”

Liv couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being pushed into something they weren’t prepared for. It was like they’d stumbled into a nightmare, and the only thing they could do was try to outrun it. The mention of New Canaan border and the clerk’s strange behavior only fueled the unsettling feeling building inside her.

“Do you think… do you think they were involved?” she asked, her voice low and laced with suspicion.

“I don’t know,” Dominik replied, his jaw clenched. “But I think we just found ourselves in the middle of something bigger than we thought.”

The night seemed to close in around them, the quiet streets feeling heavier with every passing moment.

A few minutes later, the distant sound of a siren began to grow louder. It wasn’t the reassurance they had been hoping for, though; the noise only amplified their sense of unease.

“We’re not safe here,” Liv said, a hint of panic in her voice. “We need to find somewhere else to wait for the police.”

Dominik nodded, pulling her toward the edge of the road. “I agree Liv but the police are almost here..”

The blue and red lights flashed brighter as a cop car pulled up to Dominik and Liv, who were still standing in the gas station parking lot. The car screeched to a stop, and the officer inside rolled down the window, his gaze narrowing as he assessed the situation.

“You the boy that called about a run-off, I presume?” the officer asked, his tone even but slightly curious.

Dominik nodded quickly, trying to keep his cool despite the growing anxiety. “Yes, sir. Our car’s off on Lapham Road. We were heading to our friend’s house.”

The cop’s eyes lingered on Dominik for a moment longer, his brow furrowing. “You’re that Mysterio fella, ain’t ya?”

Dominik blinked, taken aback by the officer’s familiarity with his ring name. “Uh, yeah, that’s me,” he said slowly, trying to gauge why the officer would know about his stage persona. “But what does that have to do with our accident? We were just run off the road.”

The officer chuckled darkly, his voice tinged with an unsettling nonchalance. “Alright, I’ll take you to your car, and we’ll get a tow truck out for you. Y’all need a ride to your friend’s house, too?”

Dominik hesitated, glancing at Liv, who looked pale and disoriented. “Yeah… yeah, we could use a ride,” he said, but then, a thought nagged at him. “You’re not going to let us file a report, are you?”

The officer let out a long, drawn-out sigh as if the question was an inconvenience. “Let’s see what we’re working with first,” he muttered, unlocking the doors. Dominik and Liv exchanged a glance before getting into the backseat.

Once in the car, Dominik gave the officer the location of the car. “It’s Mile 41. That’s where we left it.”

The officer nodded in acknowledgment, his face still expressionless as he started the engine. The car pulled away from the gas station and began heading out to the road in question, the quiet hum of the engine filling the silence between them.

“So, is this some kind of prank?” the officer asked, turning his gaze to Dominik in the rearview mirror. His tone was flat, but there was something about the way he asked that made Dominik’s stomach drop.

Liv and Dominik exchanged a look of confusion. “What do you mean?” Dominik asked, a slight edge to his voice.

The officer didn’t respond immediately. He just continued driving, his focus on the road. But as the miles passed, a sinking feeling took over. Something wasn’t right.

Finally, they reached the stretch of road where Dominik had said their car was parked. But when the officer slowed down to pull over, Dominik’s heart sank. Their car was gone.

“Wait,” Dominik exclaimed. “Where’s the car? It was right here!”

The officer, now with a more serious expression, slowed to a stop and turned off the engine. “If there’s no car, then I can’t do anything about it. You got proof it was here?”

Dominik’s frustration flared. “What do you mean, no car? Look at the tire marks!” He gestured urgently to the ground, hoping the officer would see the evidence.

The officer stepped out of the car, flashing a light over the pavement. The beam illuminated faint tire tracks leading off the road, but no sign of their car.

He sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to tell you, son. I can’t do much if there’s no car.”

Liv’s voice was sharp as she spoke up, her worry escalating. “We were just run off the road! The car was here. It wasn’t just—” She stopped herself, realizing how strange it sounded. “What are you saying? We were just—”

The officer interrupted with a cold, almost detached tone. “Now hear this, son. I’ll take you to them uppitys up by the New Canaan border. Maybe they can help you out. But no guarantees.”

Dominik’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know where our friends live?”

The officer gave a low, knowing chuckle. “Son, I know everybody who lives around here.”

Something about his words struck a chord with Dominik. It didn’t make sense—why would this officer, a stranger to them, know the personal details about Jey and Rhea? Dominik glanced at Liv, seeing the same unease reflected in her eyes.

Liv’s grip on Dominik’s hand tightened as they both climbed back into the car. There was no escaping the strange feeling that this wasn’t just some random encounter. They were being led somewhere—somewhere they didn’t fully understand.

The officer drove in silence, the engine’s hum the only sound in the car as they passed through familiar stretches of road. Dominik’s mind raced. What was really going on? Why had their car disappeared? And why was the officer so calm, so unbothered by the fact that something was clearly off?

Eventually, they arrived at the entrance to Jey and Rhea’s subdivision. Dominik’s heart beat faster. There was something undeniably strange about this whole situation. Before the officer could make a turn, Dominik quickly spoke up.

“We’ll walk from here. Thank you,” he said firmly, trying to keep his composure.

The officer looked in the rearview mirror again, his expression unreadable. “You sure?” he asked, his voice flat.

“Yeah, it’s fine. We’ll walk,” Dominik said, pulling Liv closer to him.

The officer shrugged, pulling over to the side of the road. “Be sure and tell ‘em Demetri sent you folks,” he said as he threw the car in reverse, ready to leave them.

As the officer drove away, Dominik stood in the middle of the quiet road, still trying to process everything that had just happened. The strange, cryptic words hung in the air.

Liv stood still. Frozen in shock.

Dominik looked at her and he said, “Liv? What’s wrong?”

“We have to wake up Rhea and Jey…”

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 5)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Warning: this chapter contains mentions of the horrors Snow inflicts on ‘desirable’ victors, nothing graphic but could still be upsetting to some readers. Proceed with caution.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“Damn it,” Haymitch curses, taking a long swig from his glass.

Katniss is inches away from literally becoming the girl on fire. Sprinting through the raging flames as foliage and trees block her way.

“Why are they doing that?” Y/N tugs anxiously at the sleeve of his jacket.

“She’s too close to the edge.” They need to turn her around, but the fire balls are for show.

“Not now.” The gamemakers have chased her well back into the tree line. “Why aren’t they stopping?”

“I don’t know.” Haymitch huffs, “I have as much control over this as you do.”

“We need a sponsor.”

“To send her what exactly? A fire extinguisher?”

Remember who the real enemy is.

“I’m sorry.”

Y/N shakes her head, “it’s fine.” Haymitch is direct and abrasive, he does not sugarcoat. There are times when she wants that, needs it even.

“I was dismissive.” For all she was his protégé, she is now his equal. Old habits die hard, the places where they are joined bleed into one another.

“No, you were right.”

Things in the arena have calmed down, Katniss nursing a burn to her thigh. Stumbling back to the river, finding a moment’s relief before the careers and Peeta spot her.

“I’ll keep an eye on things here if you wanna go work the crowd,” if they’re gonna kill Katniss, Haymitch doesn’t want her to watch.

“I’ll wait till it’s done.”

You stubborn thing, let me spare you; just once.

Despite her injury, Katniss scales her way to the top of a tree which the careers can’t seem to shake her from.

“Let’s just wait her out,” Peeta suggests, “she has to come down sometime. It’s that or starve to death. We’ll kill her then.”

Cato contemplates for a moment, “ok.” He shrugs, “somebody make a fire.”

“Now go,” Haymitch insists, “she needs something for that burn. I’ll man the fort. Go, be great.” He pecks her cheek in parting.

Y/N stands, dragging sweaty palms down the front of her dress. Passing the betting pool on her right. They smile and wave. The victor forces her best grin, spotting one of the more generous patrons and locking eyes.

The man shakes his head at the whistling of those beside him. He’s been chosen.

“How’ve you been?” Y/N plucks two champagne flutes off the serving tray as it passes. Their contents a dark blue.

He smirks, accepting the offering. “I know your game, little minx. Tell me what you want.”

“Something for my tribute’s burn.”

“You’d think the girl on fire would be used to it.”

Y/N huffs a laugh.

“How much is this going to cost me?” That’s the real question, isn’t it?

“Two thousand.” Play money for someone like him.

“Greedy, greedy.” He tuts, fishing for his wallet.

“You’ll make double that if you bet on her.”

The Capitol man cocks his head of green curls. Y/N is beautiful, not in the way his wife is. Understated, but never overlooked and though she dresses the part, she will never fit in. Standing out like a neon sign among the masses. A humming live wire. “You seem confident.”

“She’s demonstrated better survival skills than half the tributes from one and two. Besides, you’ve always been generous.”

“Because I like you. Dare I say, we’re friends.”

“We are friends.” You’ve been good to me, kind even.

“Most people here are looking for a bit more than friendship from someone like you. A few of my colleagues would so love to meet you.” It’s not meant to be an insult, but it stings all the same. “Do be careful, little minx. Take my money and run.”

————————————————————————

When Katniss receives the parachute with a note that reads ‘apply generously and stay alive. -Y/N & Haymitch,’ she wonders how far away the arena is from the tribute center. Is it just beyond reach, separated by a dome of tech?

What would her mentors say now, without all of Panem to see? If only she could talk to them, just one more time. To be comforted by Y/N, scolded by Haymitch even. Scooping a bit of goop from the container onto her wound, it soothes the ache. “Thank you.”

————————————————————————

Nights are the hardest, in and out of the arena. If a tribute needs something after hours, they’d have to wait until the viewing room opens the next day. Y/N insists the games stay on, the feed streaming to district twelve, broadcast over the exterior wall of their room in the tribute center.

“You gonna fill me in on what the hell’s going on?” Haymitch asks, keeping his distance for now.

“The kids are sleeping, no cannon for a while now.”

“I didn’t mean the games.”

She knows that. “Haymitch.” His name is choked, so different from the way he’s used to hearing it.

His tumbler clunks down on the bedside table. “Come here,” he clambers onto the bed, still fully clothed from the day. “Come here.”

She worms her way into his open arms and sobs. Wracking both of them with the force of it.

“I’ve got you,” he breathes, trying to absorb some of her pain.

She cries herself to sleep, even as Haymitch hushes her. Breath hitching in her throat, the terrible way that turns his stomach. When she stills, the front of his shirt caught in her fist, Haymitch dozes off. Waking to the sound of her screams, pushing at him, desperate to free herself.

“It’s me,” he pulls back enough for her to see with her own eyes. “It’s just me.”

Y/N cups his face in her hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I love you.

She tells him of her conversation with Cashmere and the sponsor. How afraid she is that pay per views aren’t going to keep these people entertained forever. Eventually they will get tired of watching them, they’ll want to be with them; and neither she nor Haymitch will be able to say no. “If Katniss lives, they’d do it to her too.” Just like Finnick and Gloss and Cashmere, all the others before them. “They’ll do it to her too.”

Haymitch gentles her with pretty lies. ‘He’ll sort this out.’ They will have to pry you from my cold, dead, hands.

————————————————————————

Little Rue, from district eleven, is also quite the climber. Making her way to the tree closest Katniss and drawing her attention to a tracker jacker nest a few feet up. If she’s able to drop it down on the careers, she might take out one or two. At the very least, cause enough of a distraction to get away.

Y/N watches on bated breath as Katniss begins sawing through the branch with her knife. People of the viewing room hiss each time Katniss is stung. Letting out a collective cheer when the hive falls, sending the careers and Peeta scattering. All but Glimmer, who catches the brunt of their stings.

Haymitch shifts. I’ll be damned, you might actually make it out alive, sweetheart.

Peeta circles around, after the cannon sounds, leaving Katniss with the bow and arrow. “Katniss, go! Run! Get out of here. What are you doing?”

She blinks at him slowly, effects of the tracker jacker venom dulling her senses. Putting enough distance between herself and the tree with the body underneath before falling into the brush. Plagued by images of days gone by.

Part 6

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @officialjellydoughnut @whoreforfictionalpeople @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902

[kentocidal]

“of course i will” with dazai NYEOWWW

uploading file dazai14.txt . . . upload complete !

this file contains the following key words: fluff, established relationship, sleepy mumbling, gn!reader, can be interpreted as a qpp relationship/ace!reader but that’s up to the reader’s discretion

the sun was cracking through the slit in the curtains, gliding over his face and making him stir. dazai shifted onto his back in bed, his one arm trapped underneath your head and the other arm being tossed over his eyes to hide them from the orange-red sunrise. he groaned inwardly; another night of restless sleep, disturbed by the sun.

you, however, were still sleeping peacefully, despite the light starting to creep over your face. you nuzzled further into his side, seeking out a warmth he could provide. he dropped his arm from his face to look down at you, staring at your parted lips, at how your chest rose and fell in a steady pace that made him want to attempt to fall asleep again despite the light.

it wasn’t often dazai got a good look at you sleeping. he wasn’t necessarily an early riser, but you managed to sleep in until the last possible second before you both needed to be at the agency, so he almost always got up before you. this was a treat of sorts, considering how he had gotten home late from a mission you hadn’t been suitable for. he had dropped into bed next to you and promptly passed out cold. his limbs were even still sore.

he sighed softly and moved his hand to brush your hair away from your face, and that’s what got you to stir. you made a slight face in your sleep and your breath hitched, a sign of waking up, before your eyes slowly cracked open like the morning sun and caught dazai’s gaze.

you blinked slowly, like some sort of cat, coming to terms with the world around you before whining and shutting them again. “‘samu, what time is it?”

“too early, dove.” he chuckled softly, petting your hair oh so gently and pulling you closer with what little strength he had in his arm that was fast asleep under your weight.

you grunted as you turned over to pretty much be laying on top of him, pressing a sleepy kiss to his collarbone. “you woke me up last night when you got home, asshole.”

“i know, i’m sorry. it was exhausting.” “did you get hurt?”

“me? get hurt? never. chuuya could barely land a punch to me last night. must’ve been thrown off his game.” you snorted and curled an arm around him tighter in a half-hug, lifting your head to look at him with this gentle sort of gaze that made him want to shrink. “osamu.”

“hm?”

“i…” you furrowed your brows. you wanted to say something, express your emotions, make him understand that moments like this are a reason to live for you, just as much as they are reasons for him, but it was too early. you screwed your face up, and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing. you huffed and smacked his arm before laying back down on top of him. “promise me that next time, you’ll at least give me a kiss goodnight if you need to wake me up that late.”

dazai watched as much as he felt you melt into him completely, threading his fingers through your hair. many things between you would almost always be left more implied than said.

“of course i will.”

[januaryembrs]

LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO | Steven Grant/Marc Spector x reader [5]

description: Marc and Dove adjust to their new mission in Cairo: catch Harrow before he can release Ammit and for the love of gods don’t let Seth have the body again.

word count: 8.1k

trigger warnings: major gore and violence warning (he is the God of violence after all :/) hints at Dove’s dark past, hints at prostitution/sexual exploitation. All involved are of age however. Feelings of worthlessness. Swearing.

main masterlist | series masterlist

“Do you ever feel dirty afterwards?” The soft voice asked from her right. She’d know that voice blind. Know it in any darkness. A call to a home she could never go back to.

“I feel like taking ten showers and walking through a car wash naked, and it still wouldn’t be enough.” Her own voice came. There was a tinkle of a laugh like a bell, yet the bitterness was clear in the single note. Her head turned to see her, her, the blonde girl that haunted her every thought, her every breath.

Grace.

Her face as supple and innocent as any nineteen year old, unmarred by the horrors of the world despite their place in it. Her eyebrows curved high on her face, forget-me-not blue eyes that watched the world outside their window with a longing she, herself, was more than familiar with. The two of them sat opposite each other on the wide window sill, legs bunched up to their chests, the gentle, first rays of morning sunlight falling on their faces. The two of them stared out into the rest of the world, a world they were not permitted to go without his say. The small trees that dotted the street swayed, the slow, warm breeze washing over them. The rare chance they had to take in fresh air. The two girls preened to its caress instantly.

“I sometimes think at least I’m useful here,” Grace said, her honey locks falling as she rested her head on the window, if only to get closer to the freedom on the other side, “I could be sleeping on the streets or in a place half as nice as this, alone, but at least here I’m with you,” She said, her bluebell eyes following as a pair of collared doves wove in between one another, their small, grey figures dipping through the air freely.

“It sounds fucked up, and maybe it is,” Her own voice came, her eyes also following the birds that seemed to be gloating about just how untethered they were to any place other than the winds that carried them, “But part of me, the disgusting part that I try ignore, feels wanted. Like those men want me, so much that they would even pay hundreds to see me.” Her breath steamed up the glass as she took a deep sigh, the confessions rolling off her lips. Because she knew Grace wouldn’t judge her. Grace would never. “It makes me think that maybe there’s some part of me that is actually worth wanting.”

“I’ll always want you,” Came the soft reply, her heart jumping into her throat with a small choke. She could never deal with mushy words, blatant affection from another being, the one way they differed. Grace was all about kind words, telling her how her heart felt, “Every bit of you,”

A tired grin spread on her face, “I wish it could be this easy with other people,”

“Why? Are you planning on replacing me any time soon?” Grace asked, leaning up to open the window further to let in the breeze. They only had a couple of hours before he would be back, and he hated when they sat in the window. Too many eyes, too many people to see them for free.

She chuckled, nudging the other girl with her leg in a small chastise.

“Never.” She said earnestly, watching Grace’s cerulean eyes follow a leaf fall to the ground elegantly. “Although, if we’re making requests, I’d like a best friend that would stop stealing my bras,”

“Maybe if the machine didn’t wreck all mine I wouldn’t have to-”

“Oh, give over, you like the lacy ones. Just admit it.” Grace blanched, her eyes flicking to the girl before a guilty smile appeared, showing off every one of her perfectly straight, white teeth.

“I didn’t realise they were so dear to you,” The girls giggled, the sun stroking both their faces, warming their cheeks gently. “I was wondering why I could see your nipples through your top,” A smack to the ankle closest to her.

“I’d like them back please. I’ll have you know the desperate ones pay extra for that shit,” She replied, the carelessness in her eyes dropping at the thought of their evening. He’d be back with clients, one for each of them, sometimes more.

He always came back with clients.

“And to think, I get to see them for free,” Grace teased, nudging her socked foot into her friend’s thigh to try garner some kind of amusement. But the moment was gone. The small bit of heaven they’d had between one another was gone. Because they knew this was it. This was all it would ever be.

Her bottom lip quivered. She wanted her brothers. She wanted her home, her real home, she wanted her old bed, her old room. She wanted her mother, she hadn’t wanted her mother in years. She even wanted her father, even if he was drunk as a skunk like the last time she’d seen him. She would take it. She wanted her normal job back, she swore she’d never complain about waitressing again if it meant being away from this. She wished she could bundle Grace up, disappear, just the two of them, far far away from all of this. Where they would never be able to touch either of them ever again. Where they would never be used as slabs of meat for his amusement.

A small, pale hand slipped into hers, her fingers warm and grounding as they intertwined with hers. She hadn’t realised she was crying until she looked up and saw Grace with her eyes welled up too. The pair had never been able to stand seeing the other cry without choking up.

Grace’s summer sky eyes were wide; fat, remorseful bunching tears on her perfect lash line. They were still in their pyjamas, hair still messed up, love bites and mysterious fingerprints lining her throat from where last night's customer had gotten too rough.

She was dragged into a hug, an embrace she only ever felt from Grace. Those men, those vile men only ever sought pleasure, cold, aggressive pleasure that soiled the very meaning of the word. But Grace was soft. Warm. Gentle. Grace was everything she needed to keep her head on her shoulders. Grace was every bit of her she wasn’t, like the pair had been cleaved apart atom by atom at birth and when they hugged it was as though their bodies knew one another the way you only know yourself. Like two halves trying to stitch themselves back together.

And they were both crying. Crying for the lives they’d had before all of this. Before those men that came at night, handing him money at the door, before they put on their bedroom voices and sultry eyes. The performance of a lifetime. She missed her brothers, she thought of what she was going to write in her next letter home, though she knew she would never get a response. She wished she hadn’t been so hard on them. She wished she’d gotten a chance to say goodbye properly.

“I want to go home,” She sobbed, a calming hand running through her hair as Grace soothed her, though she could tell by the way her face nuzzled into her neck that the sentiment was shared.

The two nineteen year olds held each other, the only solace they had in this world being one another’s gentle embrace. The only person they would ever need in the cruel hands of a world like this.

“I’ll be your home,” Grace mumbled, the words dying on her skin as the tears fell down her own cheeks, “I’ll be your home as long as you need one,”

She nodded, a silent thankyou for the selfless offer. Golden curls surrounded her vision, Grace’s arms squeezing her tighter. As if to assure her that this was it. This was all she would need. That she was never, ever letting go.

And then, silently, tiredly, Dove woke up alone.

“Good morning,” She chirped, Marc wincing at the perky nature of her tone. He sat up with a wince, his back screaming in aches from the hard sofa. It was a wonder he’d gotten any sleep at all, let alone not woken up when she’d seemingly left the room for a wander around.

“Where have you been?” His voice was gravel, a rumble of fatigue erupting from his throat. He took in the flowy bottoms she wore, the basic white shirt she’d thrown on over it and the sunglasses perched on her messy hair. In her hand was a loose, netted bag, entirely crammed with fruits. Mangoes, pomegranates, bananas, the biggest oranges he’d seen in years. He remembered Layla feeding him one at their wedding, remembered thinking they were the best thing he’d ever tasted. As if to read his mind, she took one for herself and handed him the entire bag.

“Exploring. Getting breakfast. Your phone’s been buzzing, I think your friend needed you,” She said, the spirited tone in her voice never dropping as she slumped on the bed, “I still stink of airport,”

“Go take a shower,” Marc resolved quickly, peeling back the orange, the sticky juice running over his fingers immediately. Fresh, better than any fruit he’d had in England that had been packaged and stored and frozen.

He barely saw the way her eyes twitched at the word as she tucked into her own fat slices of the citrus. “Can’t, there’s only a bathtub,” She said, cheeks full with syrup, “I think they were expecting a honeymoon, there’s all petals and candles and shit,” She said, her eyes flicking to the window to see the outside world.

“So just have a bath-”

“What’s your friend say?” She cut him off, though there was no malice in her tone. Only intrigue.

Wiping his hand clean, he reached into his pocket for his crappy burner phone. The single text from his friend with a thousand connections all over Cairo read:

Harrow is here. Aali’s waiting in Khan el-Khalili for you and your friend, said he’s got insight where they’re heading. Said some of Harrow’s men are on his tail. Better hurry, Spector.

Marc expected as much, though he’d have thought he’d have at least enough time to have breakfast before the day’s stress would already begin.

“One of his informants is waiting for us not far from here. I’ll call us a cab,” Marc replied, scarfing down the last of the tender segments, trying not to groan at how they exploded in his mouth.

“Informants,” She echoed, her eyes wandering the ceiling as she herself let the saccharine juice slide down her throat, “Makes us sound like James Bond. Although I’m pretty sure the movies would have gone a lot different if Bond got killed and resurrected by some ancient deities,”

Marc said nothing, focusing his attention on looking for a nearby taxi rank.

“I mean I suppose they do kind of have him die over and over again, when they need fresh meat to keep their movies running. I never really understood the whole thing for Bond, he seems narcissistic, arrogant at best. If you ask me, the movies don’t need more men fucking the pretty women and killing anyone they can get their hands on. The entire thing is just sixty years worth of men tugging themselves to fast cars and blood and the two dimensional women getting seduced by the hot sociopath-”

“Something’s wrong,” Steven said from inside the body, the first he’d spoken up in two days, “Something’s wrong with her,”

“Aside from the fact she doesn’t know when to shut up?” Marc asked, though he too had noted the unusually chatty mood she was in today, “No wonder you two get along so well,”

“Marc,” He snapped, his brown eyes large and concerned as he stared at her from the mirror, “I’m serious. She never waffles on like that unless she’s bothered by something,”

“And the whole shaken not stirred thing? Talk about pretentious-”

“She’s talking about the politics of a martini. I think she’s just had an extra dose of sugar this morning,” Marc shut his phone off after confirming a cab, his own hardened eyes flicking to where the woman seemed to be lost in her own spiel to even notice he hadn’t yet said a word.

“Talk to her,” Steven ordered, though his eyes never tore from her troubled gaze at the ceiling.

“And like, were it any other franchise, twenty seven movies seems ridiculous. Imagine twenty seven Harry Potter movies? Everyone would be old as hell by the time they finished. Harry Potter and the Midlife Crisis sounds shit-”

“Are you feeling okay?” Marc cut her off, her head snapping to his as if to be yanked out of a train of thought. Her eyes looked bleary, as if she still had yet to fully awaken.

“Huh?” She asked, briefly looking away to grab a plump, fuzzy peach out of the netted bag, “Yeah, I’m peachy,” She snickered to herself before realising he wasn’t laughing at all. Not even a small smile. “Come on, that one was too obvious,”

“Steven said you’re trying to distract yourself,” He said, a hint of an accusation in his tone. He caught the moment her innocent expression faltered for a slight second, before the mask slipped back on and her bright smile was plastered across her too tightly scrunched cheeks.

“Nonsense.” She brushed off, though her eyes quickly trailed away from his, leaning for a small backpack of her belongings. “Are we heading out now?”

With that, the woman strode towards the front door, dropping her sunglasses back over her eyes.

“I’ll meet you down there,” She said over her shoulder, briskly leaving Marc to get some real clothes on for the day, having only slept in an old shirt and some shorts.

“I’m telling you, mate. There’s something up,” Steven said, finally turning to his alter who stood, lost for words, his eyes softening at her retreating figure.

And Marc knew he was right. He could deny it all he liked, but it didn’t stop it from being true.

And just like that, the woman had become a total mystery to him once more.

“So where exactly was it you said your informant was?” She asked, the two of them standing in a back alley, Marc’s eyes glued to his phone as he awaited further instructions.

“Somewhere around here- you know it’s kind of difficult to type these things when he’s being tracked by trained mercenaries,” Marc snipped, making the woman roll her eyes as she leaned against the sandstone wall. Sighing through her nose and pursing her lips, she readied to open her mouth again, no doubt about to say something that would only serve to piss him off more when her ears caught the sound of a muffled scream.

Head flicking up to the top of one of the buildings, she scanned Marc’s face for any sign of alarm, only to find him still staring at his little black phone in frustration. Thinking she was simply imagining it, she readied herself to brush the sound off, when she heard it again, a moan of pain accompanying the yelp.

“Did you hear that?” She asked, standing up straight, her ears pricked to the rooftops.

“Huh?” Marc sounded annoyed, though his face melded into concern when he saw the focused look in her eyes, attention caught between the terraces, “What? Hear what-“

“Shhh,” She raised her hand to silence him, slapping her hand fully over his mouth when his lips parted with a pissed off quip ready to roll off his tongue. Her head snapped to one rooftop in particular, her eyes wide and worried as she heard the switch of a blade, a gasp of a beaten man and a chuckle of five, sinister voices. “They got him, they got your friend.”

“Where?” Marc asked, phone long forgotten as he grabbed her hand off his mouth, barely needing to question how she knew. His senses had become so far enhanced with Khonshu’s suit as well, it was only natural that she’d started to feel the full effects of her powers too.

“Over there,” She pointed in the general direction as Marc immediately set off for a fire escape leading to the upper levels.

“You stay here, I’ll go get him-”

“What- Stay here?” Came her immediate protest, “I can help! Let me help,”

“Absolutely not, you’ll just slow me down,” Reeling back in offence, Marc cast her a glance when he saw the hurt in her face, her lips pouting slightly and eyes drooping in sadness, “Don’t give me that look. I just don’t want you to see something you might not like,”

Marc knew what those mercenaries would do to his informant, what they would do to them if they so happened to stumble across them. The thought of their dirty, blood stained hands on her, hurting her, it was enough to have Marc disregard any kind of puppy dog eyes she gave him. No matter if it did make his chest twinge with guilt. He should be nicer to her, he chastised himself.

“Let the mutt have a chance,” Teased a booming voice from behind the two of them. Dove whirled around, stumbling backwards into Marc’s chest when she saw a ten foot tall skeleton of what seemed to be a bird-man type animal. Its concave eyes leered down a long beak at her smaller figure, the huge creature seemingly quite relaxed as it leaned in, its chest broad covered in wraps of linen as if he were once mummified.

Jumping back in freight as the bird got closer, Dove yelped as she felt Marc’s arms wrap around her biceps to stop her from stumbling over herself, “What the fuck is THAT?”

Khonshu only laughed, his deep timbre shaking her to her bones.

“This is Khonshu, I’m his avatar. Same way you’re Seth’s.” Marc said bitterly, glaring at the stupid bird that seemed to find her terror hilarious.

“I think my little lamb would do nicely, Spector,” Came another voice, and a dark phantom emerged from behind the silhouette of the bird headed god. The air escaped her lungs, and she would have stumbled even further back had Marc not been behind her, Seth’s dark face coming into view as if he had been summoned by the very mention of his name, as was the rule with every child’s nightmare.

His night black eyes peered down at her from atop a set of grinning, blade-sharp teeth, jaws pulled into a mix of amusement and threat. His body towered over even Khonshu once he stood at full height, broad arms muscled and fleshed out unlike the skeleton, his own staff also grinning at the horrified woman.

“Come now, little lamb,” His dark growl of a voice had her knees weakening and bones shaking the moment she heard it. The voice that had been haunting her since that night in London, when she’d woken up with blood covering her head to toe. “We’ve got a job to do,”

She couldn’t go back, she couldn’t go so easily this time.

“Keep away from me,” She hissed, Marc releasing her as she trembled and retreated when Seth began prowling towards her, “I’m warning you, I am not going back to being your little puppet again- this is my body- you’d do well to get that into your head real fast-“

Seth simply laughed, Khonshu echoing him, making Marc’s head whip towards the moon god with an irritated frown. It was clear she was terrified, as would Marc be if he had a master so cruel and heinous to be controlled by. The thought only twisted the knife of guilt chiselling away at his gut further.

“Can’t you get him to leave her be?” Marc snapped, turning his attention to his own god with a sneer and a cold look in his once soft eyes, “We’re more than capable of handling a few mercs, why drag her into this?”

“I am not the one who dragged her into this, I would remind you, Spector,” Khonshu’s words cut deep, hardening the man’s expression more, “And even if I wished to stop this, Setekh is brother to Osiris. He holds more power, both in the eyes of the Ennead and in his own being, than I ever will. To go against him would be a death sentence for us both.”

Marc sucked his teeth, not ignorant to the commotion between the two to his right. Seth leaned in, a large, clawed hand outstretched as if to stroke her hair in an unnervingly gentle fashion. The same way he had the first moment he’d met the god of death. It reminded Marc of a patronising father, caressing a dimwitted child, or even an unsuspecting dog heeling for treats. The hand was met with a swift strike away by the human woman, eyes wide with fear, chest rattling with dread, akin to a cornered cat lashing out in self defence.

The four beings seemed to stop with her action. Marc’s eyes went between her and Seth, and for once Khonshu seemed to have gone quiet. And then, after a moment of painful emptiness, Seth chuckled once more. Not amused anymore, but a bitter rumble of fury, one that had Dove’s heart plummeting into her stomach, feeling as if the entire contents of it would come up any second now.

“The little lamb has fire?” Seth’s canine like head tilted, his tall, pointed ears going with it. Though, they didn’t flop like a dog’s would, no. They seemed to point towards her, sensing the unfiltered terror that washed through her bloodstream. A predator locked in on its prey. A wolf descending on a lone sheep.

“Keep away from me,” She repeated, the anger still in her tone, though it had now been diluted by the fear, the tremble in her throat giving her away. Seth grinned, though the smile was tainted. The jaw pulling into a snarl, his face becoming all the more sinister.

“I told you. You’re mine now, lamb,” He barked, his hand darting out and roughly grabbing a thick knot of her hair from the back of her skull, a mewl of shock slipping past her lips, “You’d do well to obey me next time,”

Obey. Obey him. She could think of nothing worse. She wanted to just kick and scream and spit and lash out all the more, writhe away from his touch, his touch that reminded her of his. As if he was no longer a ghost from her past, but was now haunting her still through the God of Death. She was tired of her body being taken from her; tired, so fucking tired of being told to sit and obey. She had obeyed. She had sat patiently, been the compliant little girl bending to a man’s vile words, she had been putty in his wretched palms.

She had obeyed him before, and now Grace was gone.

There was a single second where her gaze cut to Marc’s, eyes pleading with his coffee brown irises that seemed to diminish in all of their anger the moment she locked eyes with him, begging for help with a childlike terror, mouth pursed open ready to scream.

“Mar-” Was all she whimpered, before Seth’s claws latched onto her and her expression froze.

Marc was sure he’d killed her, was sure he’d crushed her fragile cranium in his bare hand just to prove to her the consequences of lashing out, the breath escaping his own lungs as he watched it happen, half guessing he was about to bite down on her soft face with those monstrous teeth of his.

But there was no blood, no chunks of flesh ripped from her as he thought. No scream of pain and torture.

Instead her scared face morphed into one of an entranced nothingness, eyes drooping from their usual expressive nature, chest evening out into calm breaths. Her pupils swirled in their pools of inky blackness, growing, devouring the rest of her iris, the whites of her corneas disappearing as the darkness took over, until she, too, looked down at him with malicious black sockets.

Her suit grew around her. Spreading over her clothes: a tight, black second-skin, gold bone-like details spindling around her limbs as the sable suit spread down her entire body. The muzzle slipped over her mouth and nose, as if she were a dangerous mutt in need of chaining. Controlling. Being taught to heed to its master. Marc knew it was Seth’s way of making her feel even less in control.

He said her name, taking a wary step in her direction, approaching a cornered animal in a snare. Her head seemed to tilt, midnight eyes locking in on his wary figure, though there was nothing behind those pools of darkness that gave hint to any recognition from the woman.

Because she was not there anymore. This was not her. This was Seth’s pawn, his puppet. His mongrel of a marionette. His Hellhound.

He called for her again, raising a large, olive hand in her direction, even if to lower the muzzle, even if to make her more human and less animal, only to be met by a husky growl from behind the wretched thing, a warning to keep away.

Marc’s chest felt pierced seeing her like this. Entirely not herself, entirely Seth’s play thing. A wild beast that would rip him to shreds if she got the chance. The healed bite on his thigh burned where she’d attempted it last time.

Seth laughed again, releasing his grip on her skull, where the two, upright ears now grew out of the hardened metal mask, no doubt an ego boost to his own handsome features.

“Don’t bother, Spector,” The god rumbled with sick delight, the woman’s head lowering at her master's voice, “She is entirely mine until I say so,”

Marc’s chest puffed out in annoyance, daring to stare down the God of Death for the offending comment. She was not his, she was a person. She was her own person, with her own mind and body that had been stolen from her, if a mind and body could even be taken from someone. Her soul; her sweet, gentle soul that Marc had started to adore was lost from those eyes, those feral caves of shadows that scanned the rooftops for their target. The life was gone from them, smothered by the darkness, by the bloodlust. The Hellhound was all that remained.

She stopped at one particular point as she had done when she was once again herself, waiting obediently by her master's side for a command.

He gave none, simply looking down at her approvingly before nodding a head in the direction of the mercenaries. That was all the signal she needed.

Marc had barely any time to prepare himself before he was scrambling after her darting figure, a black streak in front of his eyes that seemed to move faster than even his own brain could keep up with.

The hunt was on. The Hellhound had smelled blood.

She had given him a run for his money, quite literally. The Hellhound was fast, lithe, stealthy. Silent even when running at full pelt towards her target, even when jumping between buildings and sliding under thick planks of wood left over from decaying furniture. Never ceasing for breath, never slowing down for her partner in crime who was struggling with his human lungs to keep up with her.

Finally, the five mercs came into view, along with his informant who had certainly seen better days. His bloody nose and busted eye seemed the least of his worries however when Marc caught the glint of a switchblade in the sunlight, the knife being plunged into his gut before the two of them could get there, no matter how fast they had been.

Hellhound made the vault between the buildings in one, landing on the edge of the rooftop effortlessly, her demonic eyes narrowing in on the five men that stared back at them. Marc was shortly behind her, hopping down the short wall to the rest of the terrace he huffed as he caught his breath, coming to stand beside the woman.

“Oh shit,” Marc started, the mercenaries turning to look at the odd pair that watched them tensely, “You killed him? We needed to talk to that guy about a dig site,”

The men smirked, eyeing up the Hellhound with malicious intrigue. They missed the way her gloved fingers extended out into deadly claws, or the way her eyes honed in on the large blades they wielded, thinking of every way she would be able to disarm them.

“Guess I’m gonna have to talk to you instead,” Marc sighed, taking a single step towards the men as Hellhound widened her stance, two of them breaking away from their group to come near her.

“You’re too late. You’re never gonna find Harrow,” The tallest one commented, tossing his blade into the air in a gloating fashion, his smirk never leaving his face.

“Really?” Marc asked, watching the display with a tired eye roll, “Oh, what are we dancin’? We fightin’? What are we gonna do?”

The man carved a line in front of him with his blade stepping towards Marc while two of the others headed for the woman who had yet to show any sign of alarm at the scene. Marc readied himself to avoid the blades, his fists coming up to block his gut, hoping she would leave some part of them for the crows to pick at atleast.

He had seen what she had done to those Jackals. Men with knives wouldn’t touch her.

As if on cue, the men lunged for each of them. Marc busied himself with the three coming his way, a boy no older than sixteen following his peers blindly with a knife that looked uncomfortable in his young palm. But the bloodshed came from Hellhound.

The more broad of the two went first, serrated blade outstretched from his meaty arm. His hand was soon stopped by four blade-like claws digging into his wrist, slicing his veins down to the bone, blood spurting from him near immediately. He squealed, though the shock of his hand nearly being ripped off was nothing when her other palm was brought across his face in a slashing motion.

A centimetre higher and his eye would have been taken clean out.

The knife was dropped, a petrified look in the man’s eyes as thick blood streamed down his jaw, the second man ducking out from behind him with his own knife ready. He threw one slash towards her neck, already protected with a thick layer of the leather like suit, making the small weapon effectively useless had he even gotten close to her.

Which he didn’t.

She’d already easily dodged his advance, coming up to grab the back of his shoulder and smash his face against the stone wall behind them with a sickening crunch. Three of his teeth spilled onto the stone floor, nose flooding with the metallic liquid that dripped into his mouth. Claws dragged up into his hair, pressing harder than Seth had when he had grabbed her in a similar way, until she felt flesh squish and blood trickle over her palm. The man screamed, squirming under her grasp, which only had her holding on tighter, wrenching at his skull until he dropped to his knees and the knife slipped from his grasp with the white hot pain he was in.

Her gaze dropped to her left where Marc was still fighting the men that had headed for him, only to hear the younger boy behind them.

“In your face, foreigner,” He spoke in his Arabic tongue, throwing his smaller blade towards Marc’s head as the man was busy fending off an attacker.

But the blade never made it far. Her black, leathered hand snatched the knife by its serrated edge, though the woman did not show any signs of wincing at the sharp blade. Why would she? When all she felt was a lust for revenge watching the boy shrink back in fear, realising he was now without a weapon and had drawn the attention of the wolf looking creature.

She was a picture of a nightmare as she tossed his knife to the ground effortlessly, the darkness of her eyes swirling with rage as she stepped towards him. Hellhound wasn’t sure who that man was, the man who had tried to touch her infront of her master, the same man who had tried to caress her last time she was freed. She didn’t know him, but there was part of her writhing with anger that he had almost been harmed. Didn’t care for him, but was ready to rip this boy to shreds for attempting to hurt the man.

“Wait!” Marc called, knowing what she was about to do to that child. The two men that cowered, soaked in blood, were evidence enough that she was just as brutal as she had been the last time she’d been freed. But that boy was just a kid. Hellhound may not have a moral compass but he sure as hell did. As did Dove. And he knew she would hate herself if she knew what she was doing. If she hurt a kid. “Stop!”

But he didn’t have to intervene as the other man he’d been fighting tackled her from behind. The distraction seemed to have been her downfall as he managed to restrain his arms to her sides. She let out a snarl of anger, throwing her head back in an attempt to fend him off, only for him to wrestle her towards the edge of the building. Digging her heels into the floor, she squirmed, thrashing in his hold enough to have him loosen the slightest amount. She managed to dig her claws into his thigh, the man yawping in pain, shoving her hard to the side, aiming to have her over the side of the rooftop.

Call it luck on the man’s part, but his desperate strength seemed to be enough to toss her over the sharp drop, over the edge of the four story building, high enough for anyone to break enough bones to cause serious damage. If not death.

Marc had barely been able to stop her, though he knew better than those men that Seth would heal her, since he’d been so preoccupied fighting his own challenger, one he’d only just been able to disarm before she’d been thrown.

“Marc, don’t do it, Marc” Steven begged from the reflection of the knife, “Stop it, go help her. Just stop this,” The English man pleaded, his eyes worried as Marc began to feel a pull from inside the body.

His breath drew short, his head switching between the alters as Steven used his moment of weakness to take over, his only thought being to help his Dove.

Marc took over the body once more, ripping his consciousness back from Steven, to find himself in a taxi?

Taking a quick moment to understand where he was, he turned to the driver with a panicked tone, “Stop, please!” He asked, his Arabic rusty from what he’d been able to pick up on his missions and through Layla.

“You’re speaking Arabic, eh?” The driver asked, bustling around in his seat to glare at Marc. “Why are you acting like a foreigner?”

“Where are you taking me?” The man demanded, sure he already seemed batshit crazy to the innocent driver who looked just as confused as Marc felt.

“You said picking up your friend?” He replied, a pissed off look on his face. As if to have summoned the beast herself, a loud slam hit the bonnet of the taxi. It happened almost too fast, Hellhound stood tall on the car, a dent where she had dragged herself up onto the metalwork, her targets back in her sight. It wasn’t until Marc ducked out the car that he saw the five guys coming out of the building, seemingly relaxed until they saw the seething woman staring at them.

“Let me talk to you,” Marc yelled over the bustle of the traffic. The men looked at one another, the two of the more bloodied men taking one glance at where the woman hopped off the bonnet and scrambled to get away, leaving their other three partners on their own.

“You just let us go man,” The youngest said, watching the two with confused eyes, though the mercenary that had thrown her off the roof seemed to sicken visibly at the sight of her standing alive and well, looking more than furious.

The trio booked it before either of them could take a step further.

Taking off into the crowd, a whippet of a dark phantom once more, gaining on the three perpetrators faster than they could have imagined. Her boots were silent as they pounded on the stone floor below, as if she were a wraith coming to haunt their souls for running, a demon chasing their shadows. Inescapable. Inevitable. A hunter descending on its kill.

Marc took off after the leader and the youngest one as they skidded around a sharp corner of the bazaar, Hellhound pouncing after the other who decided to take the next corner in a desperate attempt to lose the two pursuers. But he was not so lucky. Hellhound was faster.

Two clawed hands latched onto his shoulders, shoving him roughly to the wall. The man was lifted clear off his feet, the beast of a woman scraping his body against the sandstone as if he were dead weight. He could do nothing but squirm as her grip tightened, thumbs sinking into his collar bones beneath his thin jacket. He hissed in pain, eyes widening as she leaned in with those sinister black sockets.

“Where’s Harrow?” A deep rumble came from her feminine chest, Coptic falling from her muzzled lips, the sound of it so vile he worried of pissing himself. Unlike anything he had heard before. Something so ancient he cursed whoever the being was that had disturbed the monster within her.

The man whimpered like a babe, squirming under her hold, only to have her force him harder into the wall until cracks appeared behind his frame where her strength concaved the material.

“Where is he?” She snarled in Arabic this time, her muzzle dropping around her jaw to reveal her elongated canines, snapping at his jugular in impatience.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” He mewled, his head twisting to get away from the creature, eyes squeezed shut in the hopes of his death coming quick and painless. “I swear, Abdulla, th-the one your friend went for, he was the one hired by Harrow. I don’t know anything,” He begged. She took a moment to stare him down through those soulless eyes of hers, before she gave a final grumble of feral anger and dropped the mercenary onto his shaking legs. Within a single blink, she had tore off to find wherever Marc had gotten to, not sure who he was yet but knowing he was different from these other men she saw through her puppeteered mind.

When Marc came to the second time after being dragged from fronting, his face was wet with sweat and something thicker, more copper smelling. His hands were sticky with the same substance, and it took him just a moment for his eyes to adjust to realise he had plunged a knife into Abdulla’s chest, a look of distant terror on the man’s face that soon dissolved into lifeless eyes rolling back as he fell to the ground.

The knife dripped with the last moments of the man’s life, Marc’s hand gripping the weapon tightly as he tried making sense of where he was. Somewhere out of the city, further away from prying eyes and civilians that a scene like this would alarm. A rocky causeway, a clearing atop a cliff of sorts, deserted and quiet where he could have his crisis in peace.

That is until he heard the laboured breathing behind him, a grunt echoing through the clearing. A dragging sound across the grainy sand beneath his feet, scraping against the rock that jutted out of the embankment.

Marc whirled around, Hellhound standing over the body of the man she had gone after, whether he had returned to help his friend or she had killed him on the spot he didn’t know. She stood eerily still, watching his face for any sign of life, to which Marc saw there was none at all, as if waiting for anything else to cross her path and end up on the receiving end of her claws.

A yawp of pain snatched their attention before Marc could approach her, though he was still unsure if that person receiving her wrath would be him. The man’s heart fell to his feet when he realised it was the kid, the young boy who had no clue of the world he was getting himself into, that had decades ahead of him to change his life around. He saw himself in those scared, almond eyes; saw himself at seventeen angry and hating the world, wanting only to hurt and be hurt by everyone around him as if to prove his bitterness right.

But there, on the sandy floor, the boy tried to crawl away with whatever strength he had left in his tired limbs that already seemed to have taken a slashing. By his own knife or Hellhound’s razorblades, he wasn’t sure.

A mean look settled on the man’s face, knowing what they had to do with the sole remaining witness, the last person who could give them information.

“Where’s the tomb?” Marc bit, but the boy was not listening.

His eyes were settled on the Hellhound, her figure silent, still. Black eyes trained on him, never wavering, never blinking. The boy, too scared to so much as rip his attention from the woman, dragged his lame leg away from the creature, knowing she would take the single second he looked away to strike. A jackal circling a rabbit in a snare.

“Take him to the ledge,” Khonshu murmured behind the two of them, Marc’s eyes turning down for a split second in sadness. He didn’t want to do this, he thought he was better than this. Hurting children, threatening little boys for problems that weren’t their’s.

He was no better than his mother.

“He’s just a kid,” Marc all but whispered, as if he knew how pathetic it made him seem to the god. But it was true. The boy couldn’t have been older than his late teens. He was just a boy.

“He’ll talk,” Khonshu reassured, though Marc knew he had no problem hurting those that endangered their mission, all in the name of protecting the greater good. But Marc knew better. There wasn’t a single bone in his body that wanted to threaten that kid any longer.

Just as the man pursed his lips to refuse, drawing a line in the sand that even he wouldn’t cross, another behemoth figure appeared behind the three of them, the warmth seeping from the humid air as if he had washed the group in a numbing haze the second he arrived.

“Go show him your bark is as bad as your bite, little beast,” Seth purred into her ear, his figure towering over her statuesque body. The two were a mirror of one another, her demeanour a projection of Seth’s darkest wishes. A phantom of chaos. An angel of death. A reaper of whoever Seth condemned to her paws.

A dog now with a command, Hellhound stalked forward, yanking the boy by his front with a single hand, dragging his body across the rough terrain as if he were no more than a sack of flour. Lifting him into the air, he was held by little more than his shirt and tie, the fabric snatching against his throat tightly.

“Where’s the tomb?” Marc reeled back, the voice that erupted out of her chest was not her own at all, was not even of this earth. It was a dark hiss, and gave his body the same goosebumps as Seth’s had the first moment he heard it. The boy stammered, moving his mouth as if to want to give her the answer but to come up empty. It only served to anger the girl as she scruffed his collar tighter, snarling into his face for a response, “Where is it?”

But the kid swallowed whatever words he was going to give, pulling a switchblade out from his trouser pocket.

“Praise Ammit,” He murmured. It came out forced, as if he’d been told those words by the people around him, as if he didn’t entirely believe them himself but had been programmed to cut his losses if he were at an interrogation like this.

Swiftly, before Marc could intervene and save the poor kid’s short life, the boy brought the knife up to the shirt that seemed to be the only thing stopping him from plummeting off the cliff edge and slit the fabric clean in two.

As expected, his body could do nought else but fall, fall silently and morbidly down the twenty-foot edge until something cracked with a loud thud as he hit the ground.

Which was exactly the moment Dove returned to her body.

Her consciousness was all but dragged from the pit of her mind, a surge of breath entering her lungs as if she were coming up for air from being held underwater. Where the hell was she? Why was she stood at a cliff’s edge?

Her face felt sticky, hands coated in a honey like wetness. In fact her entire body felt tight with the stuff. And the smell, the bitter iron that burned her throat with every breath.

A frown settled on her features, looking down at herself only to see a tight black suit that covered her entire body, metallic prongs ribbing the gear like bones. But that wasn’t what caught her eye. It was the reddish sheen reflecting off the black in wet patches, the viscid liquid entirely covering where her hands were exposed, the only trace of the suit being more boning up to her fingertips where lethal sharp claws lay, dripping with more of the claret vermillion substance.

Blood. She was covered in blood. Why was she always covered in blood?

She must have made some sort of wail of freight because then hands were grabbing her shoulders. Yelping, squirming, shrieking some more, she quickly realised the hands were turning her around, hands that were equally as bloodied and bruised. Olive shaded hands she had come to know quite well.

Hands that were stroking her hair, holding her head to try get her to calm down. All sound had run away with her in the midst of her terror, it took her a moment to understand he was talking to her.

“You’re okay, you’re alright,” He cooed, the blaring panic clear as day in her eyes as she drank him in, her mind ticking at the fact he had blood on his face too, trickled from a large gash on the side of his head down his jaw.

“Yo-you’re hurt,” Was all she could say, his big hands encompassing both sides of her head as she raised her own fingers to touch his wound gently. It was then she was reminded, as Marc unintentionally drew away from the sharp claws, that she was indeed a weapon. She would hurt him with a single touch, and then there would be more blood, his blood on her. She couldn’t bare the thought of hurting him. She’d rather cut her own throat here and now than harm him. “Marc, what did I do-”

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” He repeated, stroking the side of face carefully, her eyes turning down in utter hopelessness. Her gaze briefly wondered over his shoulder to the bodies on the floor, her breath choking in her throat at the sight of them, the blood, oh fucking god theres so much blood- “Don’t look at that, you don’t need to see that, you’re okay,” Marc shushed her as her face filled with remorse, pulling her head into his chest, circling his muscled arms around her shaking body for a tight hug.

She squashed herself against him, hugging him back just as hard with the need for his comfort, burying her face into his top, eyes squeezing shut as if to hope to erase the nasty sight of the dead in front of them.

“Marc, what have I done?”

-

Taglists.

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Authors note: I’m really sorry if you’re names here and you’ve not been tagged. I have tried y so double check your settings that you are tag-able by accounts who do not follow you. Hope youse enjoyed this update!

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The Half Way Point Part Four: Grow Strong - Angel Reyes x Reader (Feat Felipe Reyes) - Final Part

Tagging: @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989 @witches-unruly-heart @keyweegirlie @infinity-mars @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @appreciatelove @the-wandering-lunatic @weiwei0210 @anime-weeb-4-life @multifandomloversworld @harperdoodle @est1887 @prettyinpunk85 @thanossexual @briefpersonenemy @creativitybeware @librarian1002 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @thebaileybugle @legally-a-bastard @oureternalbond  @bonsaijoons @sclitvdes

The Half Way Point:

Part One: Pink Roses - Felipe doesn't like you.

Part Two: Blessing - Felipe gets to know you a little better.

Part Three: A Safe Space - Felipe helps with some repairs.

The two of them have been watching you for ten minutes through the kitchen window and you still show no signs of coming indoors. Instead, you’re at the front of Felipe’s house digging out the borders alongside the rose bush because you’ve arrived with compost and a determination to do something about Felipe's shitty soil.

“When I invited you over for dinner this is not what I had in mind.” He tells Angel as he sips from his beer bottle.

“It’s her thing.” Angel states, rubbing his palm over the back of his neck. “She fucking loves getting her hands in the dirt.”

Felipe knows what you’re doing. He fixed your bench, oiled your gate, and then weatherproofed them both, and now you’re repaying the debt. He wonders if this is how it’s always going to be between the two of you and then realises that he’s started to think of you in the long term.

“You gonna marry her?”

“Eventually.” Angel tells him, his gaze never leaving you as you dump a fuck ton of compost into the earth. “We’re three months in. She’s going to think I’m nuts if I propose now.”

“I think she’s a little nuts anyway.” Felipe remarks turning his attention back to the oven. He slips on a pair of yellow oven mittens that Marisol used to use, before pulling out the oven tray with the jacket potatoes. “Go get her in before the neighbours think I’m too frail to attend to my own front yard.”

Angel complies with the request and Felipe watches the conversation through the window. When you tip your head back and laugh, he knows Angel’s told you what he said. He finds the corners of his mouth turning up as he heats the pan for the steak, he’s been marinading all afternoon.

He knows what love looks like and he knows that Angel is head over heels for you. It's the first time he's seen his son actually happy. He thinks you feel the same way, you’re tender with your affection, stripping off your gardening gloves and slipping them into your back pocket, before your fingers trail along the line of his jaw guiding his mouth to yours. It's almost too intimate to watch.

Felipe turns his attention back to the stove as you come through the door, heading straight towards the sink to wash your hands.

“It's too late Felipe,” You tell him as you turn on the tap. “One of your neighbours has ready asked me if I’m your new gardener.”

“That makes a refreshing change.” He remarks and Angel can't help but laugh at the sentiment as he pulls out a chair for you.

It's surprising how normal eating with other people feels to Felipe, despite the fact it's been a couple of years. The conversation flows easily, switching from the work that Angel's been doing at the community centre to other programs they have. He gets the sense that Angel is hedging around something when he shares a meaningful look with you.

“What?” Felipe says setting his knife and fork down in the centre of this plate.

“Are you sure you want to do it tonight?” Angel asks quietly tilting his head towards the urn on the sideboard.

Felipe sighs before leaning forward, his elbows coming to rest upon the table.

“I think it's time, don't you?”

Angel meets his father’s gaze, his lips pursing together before he nods his agreement. It’s been over six years since his mother died, it’s time for her to rest.

“Do you want to wait for EZ?” You ask him, pushing your empty plate away from you. “It's starting to get dark out, if we’re going to do it tonight, it should probably be soon.”

“We'll give him a few more minutes.” Felipe says looking up at the clock.

“We can always do it by candlelight.” Angel says, looking pointedly at the cupboard under the sink. “There's always a few in the disaster kit.”

It's half an hour later that you find yourself on your knees in front of Marisol's rose bush, digging out a small hole in the soil alongside the roots. Each of the Reyes men are stood behind you, EZ and Angel holding a candle to illuminate the darkness, while Felipe cradles Marisol’s urn to his chest.

“You're sure about this?” You ask them again as you set the trowel down in the grass beside you.

“Mom would have loved it.” EZ says reassuringly, his hand coming to rest on his father’s back for the briefest moments. “Something new growing from her ashes.”

You look to Felipe before kneels down beside you and removes the lid from the urn. You watch as he tips his late wife's remains into the soil. You use your trowel to cover up the hole before you pat it down flat. Felipe places his palm upon the earth, his thumb smoothing over the dirt as he whispers into the night.

“Grow strong my love.”

Love Angel? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[plussizefantasia]

hey lovely. i was hoping you could write me a story thing on carlisle cullen where he is the readers doctor and plus sized but she is insecure as hell and gets laughed at by some people in the waiting room at the dr office and she gets really insecure. and he makes it better some how? It would mean alot. thank you! please!

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x F!PlusSize!reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: insecure reader, fatphobia, people being assholes, takes place in a hospital

A/N: I totally used this as a way to procrastinate all the work I had to do this weekend and I’m just now realizing that I kind of misread the request, oops! I think this is pretty great though, not gonna lie. Once again, comments are appreciated!

____________________________________________________________

You didn’t often visit Carlisle at work, but occasionally, and most importantly when you missed him you’d find the time to make it over there and have lunch with him. Not that he’d be eating. This day was no different, despite the fact that you had woken up with him by your side and it had only been a few hours, you missed him terribly. Thus, you had made plans with your boss to take a longer lunch break than normal and picked up a sandwich from the diner on the way to the hospital.

Part of the reason you loved Carlise was his ability to make you feel loved, wholly and completely. He didn’t look past your size, he loved it.

“Your body just shows me the life you’ve lived darling, your softness reminds me that you are human and I love it, I love you,” He’d said when you asked him about it one time. In the moments when you couldn’t understand why he had chosen you, why he’d keep you around when you thought you’d never be able to be as smooth as his kind. They were all beautiful and flawless and you were, well, not.

Nevertheless, he loved you, his heart sang for you and when you were apart all he could think about was getting back to you. You are the other half of his soul, his mate, his one true love and he never wanted to let you go.

Taking your sandwich in a to-go box from the diner, you walked through the front doors of the Forks hospital and greeted the receptionist on duty.

“Hey Sandy, how are you doing this fine day?” 

“Just peachy hon, and you?” She looked up from the computer screen and smiled at you.

“Doing good, came to have lunch with Carlisle, is he available?” 

“I think so, I’ll page him and let him know you’re here, you can take a seat until he gets here.” She said cheerily.

Your stomach dropped, you didn’t really feel like sitting in the waiting room with all these people. You’d never really felt welcomed in hospitals, you had really avoided them until Carlisle had come into your life. Doctors would take one look at you and decide that whatever problem you were experiencing could be solved with weight loss. 

Taking a deep breath, you move to sit in one of the only open chairs left. It seems as though everyone in Forks was in the hospital today. As you sit you begin to look around, clocking the mother and daughter duo in the corner of the room. They continue to talk in whispers to one another and taking not at all subtle looks in your direction. You try your best to tune them out, you really do but when the younger of the duo burst out laughing at something her mother said while staring at you, you can’t help but feel the sudden urge to flee.  While you were still contemplating if you could simply text Carlisle that there was a work emergency and run away, he turned the corner.

He seemed to be in a good mood, when he came into your view he had a smile on his face and you watched as whatever tension he was holding in his shoulder bled out when he set his sight on you. You jumped up and walked as quickly as you could over to him, trying to not seem too eager to leave the room full of people.

“How are you my love?” he asked.

“I’m okay, really looking forward to this sandwich and some time alone with my handsome lover.” You cheekily replied

“Well then, I better not keep you waiting.” He took the bag with the sandwich from your hand and placed his other hand on your lower back. 

As he led you through, the well-lit halls towards his office, you let your mind wander. It isn’t often that people are that obvious about their distaste when it comes to your figure. And no matter how much Carlisle and his family ensured you that they thought you were beautiful, all it took was a mean look and some whispered comments to bring you all the way back to square one. Why were people so cruel? Why did other women tear each other down? Why were you letting this get to you? Question after question rattled around in your brain and you completely zoned out of your surroundings. You didn’t notice when tears started to leak from your eyes, or the concerned look that Carlsie threw your way when he heard your heartbeat pick up. 

Carlisle hates when you cry, he can’t stand you seeing upset. Your heart is one of the only things that matter to him and when it’s in pain, so is he. He didn’t know why you started crying but if had his choice, another tear would never cross your eyelid. 

You seemed to jump back into existence when he gently pushed you down on the couch he had in his office. He placed his icy hand on your cheek and lifted your eyes to meet his.

“What’s wrong? Why is your heart in pain?” he asked so gently as if you would break if he pushed too hard. 

And break you did, with his concerned tone, tears began to flow faster out of your eyes and down the apples of your cheeks leaving trails in their wake.

In one swift move, he took your place on the couch and cradled your shaking frame in his arms. He pulled you in close to his chest and began whispering sweet nothings into your ear. It's okay. Everything is going to be okay. Just breathe pretty girl, deep breaths. That’s it, you’re doing so well. You had no idea how long this went on for, but eventually, your cries reduced to sniffles and your breathing evened out. Where there was once melancholy, now there was only exhaustion.

“What happened love?” Carlisle asked. You shook your head but answered him anyway.

“There were two girls in the waiting room, a mother and daughter I think. They wouldn’t stop staring at me and whispering things. They started laughing and I don’t know I guess it was just too much. I felt so small and so huge at the same time.” You let it all out, and as you recalled what happened, the weight on your chest lessened. You took a deep breathe, “I know that I shouldn’t feel this way and that you think I’m beautiful it just-”

“Darling, you’re allowed to feel however you want. There is no should or shouldn’t. Yes, I think you're the most gorgeous woman on the planet but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to have insecurities, it just means that I’ll have to do my best to remind you just how amazing you really are.” Carlisle cut you off resolutely. His arms tightened their hold on you, “I have eternity to show you just how wonderful you are, eventually it will get easier I promise darling.”

“I just don’t understand why people have to be so cruel.” You responded.

“I don’t know love, but you didn’t deserve to be treated like that. You don’t have a mean bone in your body. I tell you what, why don’t you eat your lunch while you do that I’ll retell you the story of the moment I knew you were going to be mine, how does that sound?”

“It sounds wonderful Carlsise, you always know just how to make me feel better.”

For the next hour, Carlisle reminded you of the moment he fell for you when you had walked into the hospital for a check-up. He could tell you were nervous, but you still gave every one of the staff a smile. He had been blown away by your beauty and continued to be blown away by you every day he got to spend with you. 

One thing was for sure, you would spend the rest of eternity listening to Carlise tell you all of the things he loved about you. And you would spend even longer telling him all the reasons you loved him right back.

[kyberblade]

Back To You (Din x Reader) - Part 14

A/N: There is one brain cell shared among all three of them, and the child has full custody of it. 🤦🏼‍♀️ I have been waiting for this part. When I first came up with the story, I was like, “Ugh! I’m going to have to come up with an OC Jedi to teach the reader and blah blah blah,” and I was dreading it. Then, lightbulb, “You, dummy! There’s an episode called The Jedi.” Don’t look at me. I laughed at myself but also wanted to hide. So without further ado, here is the next part! (Okay, more ado. Sorry.) There is more show dialogue in this one. Also, once again, there is some lore in this that @writerlyhabits​ wrote in a fantastic short, and I loved it so much, I asked if I could use it.

(This takes place right where the other one left off and goes to the middle of episode 2x5/13, The Jedi.)

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one. Typical show violence. Swearing. Space swearing. Some inappropriate jokes but all in good fun and nothing overtly spicy, more innuendos. Mando’a.

Word count: 14,010 (I regret nothing.)

As always, thanks to @grippingbeskar​ for encouraging me, looking over this for me, and being the one to introduce me to Din fanfiction in the first place, getting me hooked. You are fantastic and I always love our chats.

Thank you to @what-the-heckin-heck, @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis, @lloweryourstandardss, and @fordo-kixed-rex for reading this over for me and letting me know I’m not crazy despite it being a behemoth. And @deceiverofgodss​ for helping with the Mando’a.

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

Xxx

Your right vambrace rested in your lap, the glove worn underneath clutched tightly between your teeth as you fiddled with the beskar. “Dahnk fahrik,” you mumbled around the leather as the tool slipped. Luckily not much could damage beskar, or the vambrace would be covered in scratches right now simply from this repair attempt.

Din turned in his pilot’s seat to watch when you let out a growl in frustration. “Need some help?”

“Yesh,” you said around the leather before spitting it out beside the vambrace. “Yes,” you repeated with a sigh, letting your head plop back against your chair. 

He chuckled lightly, taking the vambrace to inspect more closely. “What seems to be the problem?”

“The fastening mechanism isn’t working right.” You picked up your head to look at him properly, handing him the tool. “It clicks in, but it still sits kinda loose on my arm. I was trying to tighten the screw, but-”

Din slid the mechanism closed after three small twists with the little tool, a sound click filling the cockpit. “It’s fixed.”

You stared at the armor in his hands for a moment, tilting your head after a minute of silence and blinking. “How-”

“It’s a spring mechanism. Fails on mine sometimes, too. The trick is to bypass it here,” he pointed with the tool to a spot an inch away from where you were working, “so it can continue without catching.” Leaning forward he set the vambrace back in your lap, keeping the tool, tossing it in the air and catching it. 

Holding the beskar close to your face to inspect it for yourself, you narrowed your brows as you turned it over to see all the little crevices, poking at the spot he pointed at almost like you were testing it. “Thanks,” you mumbled.

He nodded once before turning back to the control panel and dropping out of hyperspace.

As you slipped your glove and vambrace back on, you looked up through the viewfinder to see a dreary looking planet looming ahead, half in shadow half in sun, the side in darkness barely lit up with any cities or lights. 

“Corvus, this is the place. I’ve detected a beacon.” As Din spoke, he looked across his shoulder at the kid where he sat to his right on the console, looking up at him with bright eyes, making you smile. “I’m gonna start the landing cycle. You better get back in your seat.”

Din continued to press buttons and flip switches while the child stayed where he was, looking around the cabin as if nothing had happened. His focus settled on the silver ball on top of the lever about a foot in front of him, and you rolled your eyes. This was going to be interesting.

Jerking his head back towards the kid’s seat, Din’s voice got a little gruffer, more stern. “Hey, what did I tell you?” If Din noticed, he didn’t say anything, but you had to stifle a laugh at the way the kid’s face scrunched up into a scowl as he eyed the ball again, eyes narrowed slightly. As quickly as it came, it went, and the most innocent expression fell over his features as he tilted his head to the side and looked up at his caretaker. Oh, he’s good. 

“Back in your seat.” Din turned back to face forward as the kid clamored down with little coos and grunts, hiking himself up into his chair on your right. You raised a brow as you watched him worrying his hands in front of himself as he looked between the ball and Din, and back again a few times. 

Reaching out a hand, his eyes falling partway shut, you didn’t have to feel the surge in the air to know what was happening as the kid started to slyly unscrew the ball with the Force.

Under the guise of adjusting your vambrace further, you tucked your smile towards your chest, trying to swallow the snicker that wanted so badly to come out. 

As you flew over the surface of the planet, it reminded you of the lower levels of Coruscant, grimy and hazy, the air almost yellow and thick. Everything looked gloomy and sad, the trees that once would have been a magnificent forest now stood baren and stripped, lonely spires left as a reminder of a better time.

Landing in the middle of what was once a forest on the outskirts of the village, you heard deep moaning and chittering coming from beyond the little clearing the ship was in. Stepping down the ramp cautiously, you peered around, eyes going wide when you saw the source of the sounds. Large creatures on four legs, taller than the Crest ambled about, snapping what was left of the dead trees in their jaws as they ate. 

At the bottom of the ramp, Din turned to look at you. “If anywhere was a place you needed to conceal your identity, it’s here. This is the type of place where someone would turn you in for a handful of credits, let alone whatever the bounty actually is now.”

“I’ll just stay here on the ship, then-”

“No,” he cut you off. “I can’t protect you if you’re here and I’m there. We stick together.”

You nodded. “Fine. I’m not going to disagree with that. But what’s the solution? I mean, I have my capes but they don’t really conceal me much.”

Din tilted his head to the side as he stared at you, his visor moving from your head down to your toes and back up in a silent appraisal.

You swallowed roughly. “Uh-oh. No. No, Din. Whatever you’re thinking, I don’t like it.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet!” He protested, arms going out to his sides as he laughed lightly.

“But I already know I don’t like it,” you countered, taking a step backwards up the ramp.

“Will you just trust me, please?” He was still laughing over his words, taking a step towards you. “Mesh’la, come on. Have I steered you wrong before?”

“Let’s see,” you stopped, holding out a finger for each situation. “We’ve crash landed on an ice planet because you were avoiding being arrested after helping with a prison break gone wrong.” You held out a second finger, “The Crest was held together with twine and hope as we limped to Arvala-7.” A third finger, “You said you shot the trooper at the base when it was obviously me-”

You let out a squeal as he rushed toward you, turning and darting up the ramp yelling, “No, no, no!” as you laughed. Scooping the kid up, you turned to face Din as you held the kid up in front of your face. “Think of the child,” you panted, trying to catch your breath as the little green bundle in your grasp let out a soft questioning coo. Din kept stalking closer, so you set the child down. “Run, kid! Save yourself!”

Din was on you the next second, your back against the wall of the Crest as you stared at his chest plate with a grin. “We’ve got to quit meeting like this,” you teased. Laughter filled the ship as you batted his hands away. They poked into your sides mercilessly, crawling up to your neck and back down until finally you relented. “Fine! Fine! Whatever it is, I’ll do it. Just stop! Please!” Once he stopped and you could get a deep breath, you glared up at his visor. “It’s really not fair that all of this,” you tapped a knuckle against his beskar, “keeps me from ever being able to get you back.”

“Then you’re going to love my plan.” His tone sounded like he had a broad grin plastered on under his helmet, and it made one climb up your features as well.

Xxx

“This will never work!” You yell through the refresher door.

“It has to,” Din called back, his footsteps pacing back and forth in the main part of the ship. 

Looking down at yourself, you grimaced. He’d told you to put the armor you'd gotten from Vanth on Tatooine on. It was obviously made for someone much larger than you. If you were trying to remain inconspicuous, this was going to do the exact opposite. 

You weren’t even thinking about messing with the helmet right now, it was much too big and you’d probably trip and break something if you wore it before it was necessary. You still wore your own vambraces. Din didn’t want you to bump a button on the others and blow something up.

“Just let me see,” Din said quietly, his footsteps pausing. “Please.”

Pushing the button to open the door, you looked up at him through your lashes, afraid to move your head up to look at him properly, lest the armor all just fall off.

“It…. Um.”

“My thoughts exactly,” you grumbled, shuffling forward with your arms held stiffly out at an angle to make sure it stayed on you.

Sighing, you stopped about a foot away from him, looking up expectantly. When he said nothing, you huffed, rolling your eyes. "This was made for a man, Din."

“....And?" He held a hand out in front of him in question.

“....Men don't have breasts." You adjusted the chest plate slightly, glaring at it as you did.

He choked. "I see."

Rolling your eyes again, you stomped over to your bag that sat on a crate to your right, careful to hold the armor in place, and went back in the refresher.

“Mesh’la, what’s wrong?” Din called from the other side of the door, knocking softly.

“I’m fixing this. Hold on.” You pulled off the chest plate and put on your capes, both of them, along with your scarf, hoping the padding would help fill in the blank spaces the armor left behind. It fit a little more snuggly once you slipped the armor back on, so you opened the refresher door again, walking out a bit more confidently this time.

Your face fell at Din’s instant reaction.

"No. No, no, no. No."

You held your arms out to the side, looking down to survey the armor again. "What? I thought it looked…. Okay-ish?"

"You look like a- and don't take this the wrong way... You look like a Hutt that sprouted legs."

Your arms froze out to your sides, and you looked up at him with only your eyes, the rest of you completely still. "Gee, thanks."

He was quick to add, "Or a Wookie that shrunk."

You lifted your head up to level a glare on him, your voice a deadpan. "I get it, Din."

"Or a-"

Your arms crossed over your chest, somewhat awkwardly at the bulk of the capes and armor. "Say one more thing. I dare you."

He just looked you up and down once, his visor trailing the path slowly before he couldn’t help himself. "....it doesn't look right."

Letting out a battle cry, you launched, tackling him to the floor of the Crest. Your momentum caused you both to roll down the ramp, falling off halfway, and landing on the ground with a thump.

"Why. Are. You. So. Annoying?!" You shook his shoulders, lifting him as far up off the ground as you could- only an inch or so- and dropping him back down between each word for emphasis. But you were barely moving because of the padding, each movement stilted, and Din just snickered beneath you at the whole situation.

"Kid, help!" He cried over a snort of laughter, turning his head toward the ramp. 

"Your gremlin can't save you now, Mando," you practically growled out.

Suddenly the world spun for a brief second before coming to a grinding halt as you let out a breath on an oomph. When you looked up, you saw the T of his visor looking down at you as he now had the high ground. 

"No need," he said simply, lowering to get close to your face as his next words came out on practically a hum. "You can wear my old armor, it'll fit you better. And if not....” His head tilted to the side just slightly. “Nothing is always an option."

You raised a brow at him, eyes narrowing on his visor as you slowly repeated his words. “You want me to walk into the village.... In nothing?"

His head tilted the other way. "Who said anything about the village?"

Xxx

“I look ridiculous.” The sound of your voice through a modulator made you wrinkle your nose inside the beskar dome. 

“You look like a Mandalorian.”

You sighed. “I sure hope so. Otherwise all of this,” you gestured down to the armor, “was for nothing.”

“I wouldn’t say nothing….”

You reached out and shoved his shoulder lightly as you both chuckled. Taking off the helmet, you took a deep breath.

“It’s not an awful way of life. Maybe you should consider it,” he teased. “You look good in beskar.”

“And hide all of this?” You made a swooping gesture to your face before you laughed. 

“True,” Din said lightly, bumping your shoulder with his own. “Maybe it’s just that it’s my old armor.”

“That could be it….” You winked at him before you put the helmet back on, grumbling as you did. “I don’t know how you do this all day every day. I feel like I can’t breathe.”

“Everything still works the same,” Din mused, making you turn a visored glare on him, the helmet shifting slightly to the side with your movement. 

“Ugh!” You groaned. “Don’t make me glare at you. Or laugh. Any sudden movement and this thing is gonna go.” You righted it on your head, sighing when it finally sat right again.

A soft coo came from the top of the ramp, and you looked up to see the child ambling down slowly, almost sleepily. Your helmet began to shift with the movement, but Din held one finger up to the temple and held it in place. 

The child plopped down in the middle of the ramp looking thoroughly exhausted, eyes blinking slowly as he fought sleep, and when you spied the silver ball in his hands, you finally understood. He had spent his energy trying to get his toy.

“What did I say about that?” Din walked up to the child, lowering to his haunches and taking the ball gently from his ward. Holding it up, he spoke sternly. “This needs to stay in the ship.”

The child reached after the toy, whining softly as Din tucked it into his belt while he rose to his feet. Turning to survey the area, he didn’t seem impressed. “Not much to see out here.”

“Good, because I can’t move to look,” you grumbled, holding the top of the helmet with one hand as you slowly turned to glance around as well. 

“Never had dealings with a Jedi before,” Din mused absently, and for some reason that stung unexpectedly.

It frustrated you that you couldn’t be enough to help the kid. You hadn’t had the training, it just wasn’t possible to be everything he needed. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt sometimes. 

Din scooped the child up into his arms with a grunt. “Let’s head into town.” The child cooed as Din tucked him into the satchel. “See if we can pick up a lead.”

You followed behind as quickly as your awkward armor clad frame would allow, one hand on top of your helmet as you tried to keep up with your Mandalorian.

Xxx

As you approached the city wall, you lowered your hand to rest on your belt, your saber tucked safely away behind Din’s cape. Careful not to linger near your weapons, you tried to look as casual as Din did beside you on your right. 

A guard said something you didn’t understand, then a man came walking across the top of the wall, standing tall and imposing in the center over the city gates. “State your business.”

“Been tracking for a few days. Looking for a layover.” You kept your face forward as Din spoke, every bone in your body itching to rest your hand on your blaster.

The man looked skeptical, but it quickly faded into appreciation, if somewhat aloof. “Nice armor.” When Din said nothing, he continued. “You a hunter, then?”

Din nodded once. “That’s right.” His tone was a little more amicable now, trying to get on the man’s good side.

“And them?” The man bounced his head your way, eyeing your patchwork armor. 

You nodded, as little as possible, but you still felt the helmet start to slip before it suddenly held fast. Glancing down at the satchel, you saw the kid reaching out to help, and you nodded more firmly.

“Guild?”

“Last I checked,” Din said after a moment, making you smile under the helmet while you nodded slowly once again.

The man tilted his head at you. “Do you not talk?”

Without missing a beat, you shook your head no. The armor was for a man, and your voice wouldn’t pass as masculine even if you tried. Which you had back on the ship. Din and the child found it very amusing, both of them laughing hysterically. It was ridiculous, you had to admit. You’d chuckled yourself.

“Vocal chords were frozen before they came to the Creed. Toxin from an uninhabited planet chasing a bounty. Not much to say in our line of work, though, anyway.”

You tilted your head to look up at the man again, and felt the kid’s grip on the helmet slip. Reaching out yourself, you held it still with an unseen force, looking the man in the eye.

He arched his brow at Din’s words, looking at you with a new appreciation in his gaze before he turned his head to one of the guards. “Open the gate.”

Releasing your hold on the helmet after you looked forward again, you walked a step behind Din, as smoothly as you could. Sending the kid a wave of thanks, you heard his soft coo in response.

Walking down the main thoroughfare, you came upon a vendor Din started to question before they turned and walked off, leaving him trailing off mid sentence with a sigh. 

Behind the booth was an alley with a man crouched down in front of two children. They looked so sad, you decided to do something about it. A gentle nudge with your mind, and two pieces of fruit rolled off the vendor’s table, landing softly against the children’s feet. You made sure to make their path look haphazard and natural.

The children beamed as they picked them up, but the man sadly informed them they couldn’t afford them. Taking a step forward, you held up your hand to stop him, Din withdrawing the amount of credits needed from his belt and setting them on the table. 

“We can’t-” the man began, but you just waved your hand at him, gently shaking your head back and forth the little the helmet would allow before it slipped. “Thank you,” he finally said instead, to which you only nodded once.

“I need some information,” Din began softly, taking a step forward. “I’m looking for someone.”

The man’s face fell, and he turned to the children. “Okay, bye.” As they scampered off, he rose to his feet. “Please, do not speak to them, or to any of us.” It looked like he had more to say, but couldn’t. 

Din took a deep breath in, but was cut short by some armed guards surrounding both you and him. “The Magistrate wants to see you.” Sighing, Din turned to you, signing in Tusken. “Go back to the ship. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Nodding as gently as possible, you didn’t know how else a Mandalorian would respond, so you did the first thing that came to mind. Bringing your hand up in a salute as you stood at attention, you held it for a second before turning on your heel at Din’s slight head shake in reaction.

Well.

You tried.

Xxx

You stood near the front gates as you waited for him, keeping a watchful eye on the village around you. 

It was dismal, dark, everything a bit hazy, and an overall sense of gloom hung in the air. Nobody smiled, you heard no laughter, no sounds of children playing around the corner. Just the chatter over the guard’s comms and silence.

Every once in a while, the tense air was broken with a distant yell, someone crying out in anguish as the faint sound of crackling electricity buzzed in the background. It echoed off every wall, so you couldn’t pinpoint where it came from, but it made your spine crawl every time. 

You thought you heard a “please” on the wind, carried on the latest cry, right before you saw Din approaching quickly down the street, walking a bit faster when he saw you. 

“I told you to wait on the ship,” he signed, ignoring the questioning eyes of the man who let you into the city close on his heels.

“I decided this was best,” you signed back, earning a soft growl of frustration from him.

“Problem?” The man looked between the two of you as he came to stand across from you where you leaned against the front wall, one leg bent, foot propped up against the stone beneath you easily.

You started to shake your head when your breath caught in your chest as you were abruptly hauled off the wall by the material at the back of your neck. Turning to find your assailant, you were met with none other than Din’s visor, tilted at you pointedly, making the scoff you were about to let loose die on your lips as you remembered your cover.

“No, no problem,” he grunted as he began to haul you toward the front gates, and out of the city. “Just a little domestic dispute is all.”

Swallowing the huff you wanted to let out, you shrugged out of his hold, signing in a flurry when your hands were free. “Domestic dispute my ass.”

The man let out a snort of laughter, looking down to his feet to try and conceal his amusement. When he looked back up to find two T visors on him, he sighed. “Did I mention I speak Tusken?” After a moment he held up his hands placatingly. “But, hey, it’s none of my business.” He leaned in on the last few words with a wink, before leaning back again, hands falling to rest on his belt easily. 

After a long moment, you signed something not so nice to him, making him laugh. “Sorry. I know when I’m not wanted.”

The child let out a coo from his satchel, looking up at the man with bored eyes.

“What is that thing anyway?”

Narrowing his eyes up at the man, his ears falling to the side of his head in an unimpressed scowl, the kid let out a soft grunt. 

“I keep it around for luck.” Din’s dry tone made you want to laugh.

“You’re gonna need it where you’re headed.” The man’s ominous warning didn’t sit well with you, and you turned your back on him, heading toward the tree line.

With the helmet’s enhanced hearing, you were just able to make out his low voice as he leaned into Din. “What about them? You keep them around for luck, too?”

You couldn’t hold back the soft snort when Din mumbled softly, “Something like that.”

Xxx

You stayed several paces ahead of him the entire way back to the ship, letting the helmet slip to the side a bit further with every impact of your feet as you tread a little more forcefully than necessary. 

Not knowing what else to do, you had reached up and offered your best salute, hoping it didn’t look as awkward as it felt. Din had walked off with a shake of his head, not offering you much hope that you looked very convincing. But then…. Then he came and hauled you off the wall by the back of your neck like a mothering animal to a misbehaving baby…. At least you had tried to be a little Mandalorian, you grumbled to yourself, thoughts bouncing off every wall of your mind. 

Meanwhile he had just been plain Din, what with his domestic dispute, and luck, and something like that. Letting out an exaggerated breath, you rolled your eyes, which was a bad idea, because when you tried to focus forward again, the helmet had slipped further in those precious seconds and your field of view was now almost completely sideways somehow.

Going back to the ship, as soon as you were on board, you ripped the helmet off, taking a deep breath. 

“How does he do it?” You mumbled, setting the lump of beskar on a crate.  

After some time passed, you were startled when a body pressed up against your back. It wasn’t until you felt the cool touch of beskar against your ear that you relaxed again, letting your eyes fall closed as you let out a sigh. You were still baffled by how he could move so silently.

“We need to work on your Mandalorian etiquette." His voice was low and somewhat amused, his hands finding purchase on your upper arms before they began to trace down towards your hands.

"Why? Was I a little... Rusty?" You looked over your shoulder at him, fighting a smirk. 

Stopping all movement, Din went rigid, even his modulator falling silent. Turning abruptly, he let go of you, and made his way out and back down the ramp to the outside of the ship.

“Din?” You chuckled, watching him with your eyes. Following him to the top of the ramp, you popped your head through the opening and followed his steps as he made his way around the Crest in a circle with knit brows. “Din.”

You tried everything, but he didn’t speak to you for a good hour after that.

You tried really hard to get him to talk to you and he just looked at you for a moment, pausing his incessant movement, shook his head in disbelief, and began working on part of the Crest again. 

Finally you’d had enough, following on his heels like a bad smell, lamenting, "It's the armor! It's rubbing off on me!"

He mumbled so quietly you almost missed it. "I'll help rub something off on you-"

"What?" You cut him off.

"What?" He fired back dryly just as fast.

You stared at him for a long moment, your eyes flitting over his helmet as your jaw dropped in shock before you squeaked, "What?!?”

Another long moment passed before he simply turned and walked away in silence. 

"Din?"

He held up a hand, waving it dismissively as if to say "Shhhh!"

“Ugh!” You groaned, throwing your head back and staring at the ceiling of the ship as you followed him around. “Will you please tell me what the Magistrate wanted?”

“Wants me to kill a Jedi.”

You stopped moving, your head snapping up to look at him properly. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to,” he clarified. “Offered me a spear of pure beskar in exchange. If I turned that down, it’d look suspicious. Plus, she gave me coordinates of her last known location. Get your stuff packed up, we’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

“I’m ready now,” you said without hesitation. “I’m not going to take the armor off, it was too hard to get it to look right in the first place, plus if we run into anyone from town, we need to sell our story again.” You turned, taking a few steps toward the ramp before rounding on him with a finger held close to his visor. “But I’m not wearing the helmet.”

“I thought it stayed pretty well-”

“That’s because he,” you pointed to his little green ward sound asleep in the satchel, “wore himself out holding it on for me, then I held it the rest of the time.”

Din looked down at the child. “I didn’t know,” he murmured.

“Not everything is black and white like your visor would lead you to believe, Din.”

Xxx

Walking through the woods, the soft moans of the wood chomping creatures the only sound in the air, you kept a few paces ahead of him.

“So you have to kill a Jedi?”

He only grunted in response.

After a long moment of silence, your voice lowered before you continued, something hesitant in your chest. “Do you do this sort of thing a lot?” You looked over your shoulder at him, eyes lowering to the ground before you turned forward again, voice going lower still. “I mean, before I came along.”

Din sighed. “A bounty was a bounty, mesh’la. I…. I didn’t really think twice. Didn’t look much further than the information on the puck. Until this one.”

Chancing a glance back at him one more time, you saw he was looking down at the kid in his satchel with a fond tilt of his head, the kid now wide awake and blinking large eyes up at him as he babbled nonsense around an adoring smile.

“What made you think twice?”

Din lifted his visor to look at you straight on. “I don’t know. It just didn’t feel right. He was just a kid….” His focus turned toward the ground in thought, his voice going along with it. “….kinda like I was.”

“If….” You turned forward, unable to look at him as you said the next part. “If you got my puck, what would you do?”

“Go straight to the bar and get you the hell out of there.” He didn’t even hesitate.

You smiled softly. “No, I mean if you didn’t know me.”

“Oh.” Suddenly his hand was around your elbow, tugging you gently to a stop. “Mesh’la, you don’t want to go down this road.”

“Maybe you’re right. I just…. I don’t know. I’m curious-”

“No. Mesh’la,” he tugged you softly in the opposite direction you had been going. “You really don’t want to go down this road. The coordinates are that way.”

“….Oh.” Taking a few steps in the proper direction to get ahead of him again, you scrunched up your face in disbelief at yourself once you were past him as you mumbled, “I knew that.”

His hand still around your elbow stopped you short. “Mesh’la.” 

Sighing, you looked at the ground. “Forget it, Din.”

He tried again, ignoring you, his tone just as soft. “Mesh’la.”

Refusing to face him, you lifted your gaze to study the forest of dead trees around you, the faint figures of the giant creatures lowing in the distance drawing your focus as you spoke. “No, Din. I don’t know what I wanted to know. Just…. Just forget it. Okay? Please?”

He sighed. “Mesh’la,” you echoed his heavy exhale, rolling your eyes, making him let out a soft snort of laughter. “Before…. My job as a bounty hunter wasn't…. Nice. It was an existence more than anything. Yes, it came to be something I enjoyed to an extent, but…. The taking of lives, ruining someone’s life, breaking up a family…. That was never the part I wanted. I hated that part.” The fingers around your elbow slowly began to trace absent patterns. “I….” He let out a huff. “I came back to the bar, back to you, to try and forget about those parts. You made me feel a little bit more human when I’d been stripped down to just a monster in beskar.”

Turning, you looked up into his visor. “You were never a monster, Din.” He shook his head at you with a disbelieving huff, his gaze falling toward the ground. “You weren’t,” you said more firmly, trying to catch his gaze again, smiling ever so slightly when you did. “You may scare Mythrol, but you’re not a monster.” You leaned in slightly, like you were sharing a secret. “I scare Mythrol, remember. And I am most definitely not a monster.”

“I don’t know….” He mused, his voice dripping in amusement. He began to move down the correct path again, pulling you gently until his hand fell from your arm as he pulled in front of you. “Have you seen you just after you wake up?”

Stopping in your tracks after only a few steps, your jaw dropped as an indignant scoff tumbled out, making him chuckle. Stomping past him, you brushed his shoulder with your own, the beskar on each set of armor bouncing off the other with a clang. “I take it all back. You’re awful.”

It only took a few more minutes before Din slowed to a stop behind you, making you turn to face him, tugging at the scarf around your neck where it was still tucked into the armor. “This is starting to itch….”

“I tried to warn you,” he muttered, pressing a few buttons on his vambrace as he looked around, pressing something on the side of his helmet once he was satisfied. “Well, these are the coordinates.”

Looking around, you tugged the scarf a bit harder, sighing in relief when it loosened just a bit. “This?” You used your other hand to gesture to the vacant space, save for barren trees.

He only nodded, turning slowly to survey the area for himself. “Keep your eyes open.”

“For what?” You grumbled. “This place is a ghost planet.”

He huffed, making another half turn before turning back towards you, his shoulders tense. “We must be close.”

Something rustled not far from you, making all three of you snap your attention to the side at the sound, searching for the source.

“You hear that?”

“No. I’m just reacting exactly like you for absolutely no reason,” you grumbled, eyes darting back and forth in search of the sound. It was hard to swallow the smile that wanted to come up when you felt his visor level on the side of your face, utterly unimpressed with your jokes.

Keeping his visor fixed on you, he walked over to a large nearby stone, setting the kid down on top of it. Finally, he turned to look at the kid as he spoke softly. “Don’t worry. Sit right here. Let me see what’s out there.”

Pulling the scope off his rifle, he looked around the area, coming back to a spot with a sigh. “False alarm.”

Following his line of sight, you saw one of the giant creatures in the distance, meandering slowly through the leafless trees. You were about to make a joke, something about the huge beasts and how they obviously hid so well, when you felt a sudden surge in the Force. You barely had time to say, “Mando!” before he spun just in time to block two white sabers with his vambraces.

The metal sang under the pressure of the blades before they were drawn back and you saw the face of your attacker, a Togruta, very strong with the Force.

She glanced between the two of you quickly before she went in again for another swipe at his beskar, the clang and ting of impact ringing around the clearing. A spin sent the blades careening for your own armor clad arms, and you felt the impact vibrate throughout the metal as you swiftly blocked, then put distance between you once again.

Using the Force, you summoned your saber from where Din still had it tucked away safely under his cape, and it flew into your waiting hand, igniting on impact.

Without wasting a second, you ran in between them, blocking her sabers with your own. White met purple in blinding flashes, the zing of kyber on beskar rang in between the hum of clashing blades as Din tried to come from the other side.

You saw her eyes widen in shock for only a moment when she saw the glow of your saber meet hers, but she quickly schooled her features back into something more battle ready, more menacing as she came back in for another attempt.

Both of you blasted your vambraces at her, walls of fire coming from each side and meeting in the middle in a collision of flames. She leapt up and out of the way at the last second, soaring high over your heads and landing safely away, firmly on her feet with her blades at the ready. 

Din’s whipcord shot out and wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her side, her sabers pointed to the ground. She quickly looked up and you saw her plan form in an instant. Before you could say a word, she had leapt up again, obviously using the Force to gain distance from the two of you, and spun her body over a low hanging branch, yanking Din up by the cord with the movement.

He grunted, reaching out with a blade in his other vambrace to slice the cord tethering them together, dropping to the ground with a thud. He spun to face her as she turned, swinging her sabers with a flick of her wrists to cut the cord still around her at her back with a flash of sparks and hum of her blades on impact. Her blades once again at the ready once the whipcord was gone, she stood ready to charge. 

“Ahsoka Tano!” Din held up his hand placatingly, backing up a step when she began to move toward him, his blaster drawn in his other hand. She stopped when she heard what he said. “Bo-Katan sent me!”

She hesitated, eyes darting between the two of you, dancing along the glow of your blade held in front of you at the ready before returning to your eyes.

“We need to talk,” he continued, voice softer as he caught his breath, and her gaze drifted over to the child.

She lowered her sabers as she casually slipped into conversation, and disengaged them, making you hesitate as you lowered your own blade, keeping it ignited as you held it loosely at your side. 

“I hope it’s about him.”

After studying her face for a long moment and finding nothing bad, you followed her gaze to look at the child as he cooed softly, tilting his head back and forth as he looked between the three of you. 

“And her.”

Looking over your shoulder, you found her eyes now on you, seeming to see beneath the layers of beskar with just a look. Shifting your weight nervously, your gaze darted to Din before you disengaged the saber, clipping it to your belt.

“Him,” you said decidedly as she and Din walked closer to the child. 

Narrowing her eyes as they looked you up and down one more time, she pursed her lips as she stared at your face for a long moment. “And you,” she finally added again, something mischievous in her tone. 

“No, just hi-”

“You may have just come for him,” she began, turning to walk away further into the woods, stooping down to pick her cloak up off the ground that had fallen off at some point in the battle, then motioning you both forward after a few steps. “But it is both of you that need my help.”

You and Din shared a look before following after her, Din scooping up the child on the way.

“I don’t-”

She held up her hand to stop you, a small smile working its way up her face. “There is no need to lie to me, little one. I could sense you long before I saw you. You’re quite powerful, but obviously never actually trained, much like your little green friend over there.” She gestured to the child with a small jerk of her head, eyes on the path in front of her. “Come.” Pulling the cloak over her shoulders, she finally fully looked at you and smiled. “We have much to discuss.”

“We don’t have anything to discuss,” you grumbled, keeping your stride alongside her. “You and the child do….”

She smiled knowingly. “We’ll see.”

Xxx

Ahsoka sat with the child by a lantern in complete silence. You could feel some sort of exchange happening between them, but you couldn’t tell what it was about, only that it felt friendly and good natured. The large moon behind them made the scene all very picturesque, but from your little viewpoint down here, everything about it made you want to run up and curl yourself around the child and never let go. It felt like a changing of the guard.

Din paced back and forth on the edge of the clearing as you leaned up against one of the old trees, your ankles crossed leisurely and your arms across your chest.

“Could you be any more of a worried father right now?” You chuckled over the words, holding your hands up in surrender when he stopped to stare at you, his head tilted in annoyance.

The armor was long gone from your frame and in a neat bundle with all but one of your capes and your scarf- which you were wearing- near your feet, ready to be carried back to the Crest. Your clothes you’d worn as a base layer had never felt better as you stretched your sore muscles, tired after lugging beskar around all day. You looked down, adjusting your vambraces needlessly, fiddling with the weapons on your belt while you waited.

He began pacing again, face toward the ground as he moved, and you sighed.

“They’ll be fine,” you tried after a minute, your arms crossing back over your chest as you slumped further back against the tree.

He stopped again, his shoulders tense, chest broad as he visibly kept from looking their way. “Can you hear what they’re saying?” 

Narrowing your eyes, you tilted your head just slightly in question. “What they are silently saying in their heads?”

“Yes.” He spoke so matter of factly, you couldn’t help but answer in the same tone.

“Oh yeah. He’s complaining about the lack of frogs in his diet- No I can’t hear them!”

With a heavy sigh, his shoulders visibly deflating and rolling forward, he began to pace again, eyes on the ground.

Pushing off the tree, you stepped into his path, stopping him with your hands on his shoulders. The way he was moving you expected it to take more effort but he gave very little resistance, a small breath leaving his modulator as he looked up at you.

“Din. Breathe.” Taking a step closer, you tilted your head back to keep eye contact with him. “This is what he needs. What’s best for him. We won’t let him go if it isn’t right.” Your hands fell down into his cowl and you pulled him closer still. “And after that little fight she put up, I have no doubt he would be completely safe in her hands. She’s a Jedi, Din. She knows what she’s doing, knows what he needs. You know that.”

He let out a ragged breath, his gloved hands coming to rest solidly on your back, fingers tracing absently ever so slightly as he spoke. “I know. Doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Never said it would,” you whispered, turning your head to the side and resting your cheek against the fabric still fisted in your hands.

“And what about you, mesh’la,” Din prodded quietly after a moment, his hands stilling on your spine to hold you to him in a preemptive move. “Is this what you want?” You pulled back to look at him, and his grip only let you pull back enough to tilt your head back further. “Is it what you need?”

“He’s your ward, Din. Your foundling. It’s not my decision-”

He tisked, his head tilting to the right. “That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.”

Closing your eyes, you buried your face in his cowl with a soft groan. Rolling your head back and forth against the fabric, you spoke into the material, unable to look at him. “No. It’s not.”

“You haven’t even talked to her yet-”

“And I don’t need to.” Pulling back, you looked at him through narrowed eyes, your brows pulled together in a scowl. “I’m fine with what I am, Din. Would I have one day, long ago, maybe have become a Jedi? Yeah.” Your eyes fell to his cowl, darting briefly to his signet that glinted in the moonlight, making you smile, before you looked back up at him. “But that’s not where I am now. It’s not where I’m supposed to be. I’m supposed to be here. With you.” You poked his chest, smiling. “….Kicking ass.”

He chuckled softly.

“I didn’t join a clan just to up and leave when something else came along. You know me better than that.” You arched a brow as you looked up at him, eyes flitting back and forth between where you assumed his eyes were.

“I do,” he said softly, leaning his forehead against your own. “I know you.”

“Then why even bring it up?” He laughed again at your soft grumble.

“Because, mesh’la, I want to do what’s best for both of you. Even if you did leave, you’d still be a member of my clan. You’ll always be a member of my clan.”

“Damn right I will be,” you mumbled, unable to contain your smile. 

The squeaking of the lantern as it swung by Ahsoka’s side made you both pull away, turning to face the Jedi and your small ward. She set the lantern on the ground, then shared a long look with Din, then you, a soft smile on her face, before finally turning and setting the small child on a nearby stone. 

He grunted softly as he looked between all of you, his ears wiggling as he did. 

She sat on a rock across from him, tucking her arms under her cloak as she settled in, staring at the lamp for a long moment, before she looked back at the child with a fond smile, tilting her head as he continued to babble and coo. 

“Is he speaking?” Din finally broke the silence. “Do you…. Understand him?”

“In a way.” Looking at the child fondly, she then looked up to Din. “Grogu and I can feel each other’s thoughts.”

Everything stopped. Your breath caught in your chest. Your eyes went wide from where they studied her, darting over to the little green child you’d instantly connected with, come to love more and more over the months, and would protect with your life. The kid.

“Grogu?” Din spoke hesitantly, as if tasting the word as it passed through his lips. 

Lifting his ears, the chi- Grogu turned up toward Din, a questioning coo you’d never heard him make before softly tumbling forward into the silent space.

“Yes. That’s his name.” Ahsoka looked at the chi- Grogu with something that seemed like sadness.

Reaching out, you felt nothing but a kindred connection between the two of them, almost making you smile as the ki- Grogu turned to look at the Jedi again, but you successfully tucked it away. Turning to look up at Din, you watched as he shifted his weight a bit, processing this new information.

“Grogu.” He said it more confidently, looking directly at the kid, an affectionate tilt of his head after when Grogu immediately perked up, turning his way, ears up, eyes wide, and that silly little questioning coo tumbling out again, followed by a sweet, short little squeal of returned affection. 

“He was raised at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.” Ahsoka stared at the lamp as she spoke. “Many Masters trained him over the years. At the end of the Clone Wars when the Empire rose to power, he was hidden.” Din lowered to a stone across from her, listening with rapt attention. “Someone took him from the Temple.”

His visor turned to you, and without even looking, you felt its weighted stare along the lines of your face. “I saw it.” Glancing up toward the Jedi, she tilted her head to the side in question, studying you closely. “I was there.”

“That’s not possible,” she gently shook her head. “You would have been too young-”

“I was only a baby when the Temple burned.” You held her gaze, hard as it was, but you managed. “I remember the smoke, billowing into the sky. My parents shaking their heads, watching with such sadness…. The dread, not my own, but an overwhelming, horrible feeling I’ll never forget just coming over me in waves as the flames grew.”

Removing the saber from your belt, you gently moved it back and forth between your hands idly as you continued. “I found this on Trask, in a black market box stamped with the Empire’s symbol in the corner. It called to me. Endlessly, until I touched it. Then the voices quieted, and….”

“The visions started,” Din offered softly in support.

“Tell me about them.”

Looking over at Din, you smiled sardonically. “Um, okay.” You looked at the ground for a moment before looking back up at her, expecting some sort of judgment, but only found curiosity and a touch of concern. “It started with the vision of the k- Grogu,” you corrected yourself pointedly, making her smile, “at the Temple on that day.”

His big eyes blinked up at you as he babbled softly, his head tilting to the side as a hand reached out toward you. Sticking your index finger out to place in his small hand with a smile, you continued quietly. “I saw it all as a bystander. Then I saw him. I leaned over him to protect him on instinct, then it all faded. When I told him about it, he did this,” you wiggled your finger in reference, making him giggle. “And I saw from his perspective.”

Removing your finger, you reached it up to scratch the top of his head, a contented purr making you smile. Turning back to the Jedi, you lowered your hand to your lap. “When I leaned over him in my dream…. Vision…. Thing,” you huffed, “in his memory, I was still there. I was a shadow covering him, and made him feel safe…. At peace.” Reaching out, you pulled your finger on the tip of his ear, making it shake away from you as he let out a squeal, his face scrunching up in amusement. “When he looked up, I saw my own face looking down into his cradle. I had just gotten my vambraces, and the saber, his signet on my knife, and all of it was there and accurate down to the last detail.”

Ahsoka leaned forward, resting her head on her fist, elbow braced on her knee. “And the second?”

You sighed, leaning back on your palms. “I saw him,” you jerked your head to the left toward Din. “A ten year old him, living a story he’d only vaguely told me about weeks before. Details he never mentioned, things he forgot…. Then, at the end, a Mandalorian flew off with him on a jet pack, and I swore it was like he was looking right at me.”

“When she told me that, I remembered seeing a girl down below as we took off,” Din said almost disbelievingly. “It sounds crazy, but I remembered it clear as day. And just like the other one, the vambraces, the saber, the mudhorn, all of it.”

Ahsoka smiled, bracing her other arm and cradling it under her chin beside the first as her eyes flicked between you all amusedly. “Sounds to me like the three of you were always meant to be a clan of three.” She nodded toward the saber in your hands. “And that was always meant to come to you.” She held your gaze firmly with her own. “Kyber crystals choose the wielder, not the other way around. If it brought you to it, then immediately quieted when in your hands….” She sat back, her hands falling to her lap. “Then you were chosen.”

You stared at her, hesitating before finally stating the obvious. “But I’m not a Jedi.”

“Doesn’t matter. The Force worked with the crystal, and that is what it chose to show you. Purple kyber can be extremely….”

“An asshole?” She smiled at your muttered response.

“Rambunctious,” she concluded. “But then again, the crystals are supposed to be a reflection of the wielder, so I suppose you knew that already.” Sending you a wink, she turned back to Din and Grogu, her voice floating into your head. We’ll finish talking later. I feel you haven’t told me about one other vision that is troubling you. Perhaps I can help. 

Looking over at Din, you remember how he had reacted to the possibility of someone saying he had removed his helmet. It was like you had broken him. Darting your eyes back to Ahsoka, you were grateful she had kept this one between you.

“Then his memory becomes…. dark,” she continued, looking at Grogu sadly. “He seemed lost.” Looking over, you saw the little one hanging his head almost dejectedly. “Alone.” She looked at you pointedly, before turning her gaze back toward Din. “I’ve only known one other being like this. A wise Jedi Master named Yoda.”

At the name, a warm sensation crawled over your skin, a familiar feeling settling in your gut, almost as if a presence was right behind you, as words from when you found the saber echoed in your head.

A gravelly, quirky voice invaded your mind, echoing in the vast nothingness you found yourself in. You didn’t recognize it, but it brought you a sense of peace. “Trust in the Force, you must. Your path, you have found. Easy, it will not be, but walk it still, you must.”

Ahsoka chuckled softly, Grogu letting out an amused grunt as they shared a look, some unspoken exchange passing between them.

“Can he still wield the Force?”

Din hesitated, shifting his weight slightly. “You mean his powers?”

Ahsoka’s eyes darted to you quickly before they landed back on Din, her smile growing, her eyes softening. “The Force is what gives him his powers. It is an energy field created by all living things. To wield it takes a great deal of training and discipline.”

Her eyes once again fell on you in an unspoken question, and you shrugged, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment before meeting her gaze again in amusement. “I’ve tried to explain it before. I don’t….” You shrugged again, smiling. “It just doesn’t take.”

Nodding in understanding, her eyes danced with mirth as they fell back on the Mandalorian.

“I’ve seen him do things I can’t explain.” Din spoke haltingly, looking at Grogu before looking at you. “The same things, if not sometimes more than I’ve seen her do.” Looking back at Ahsoka, he sighed. “My task was to bring him to a Jedi.”

Something dark crossed over her face, her eyes falling back down to study the lamp again, her voice dropping with it. “The Jedi Order fell a long time ago.”

“So did the Empire, yet it still hunts him.” Lifting her gaze to his visor, she seemed to ponder his words. “He needs your help.”

A faint smile climbed her face as her gaze fell back down on the lamp. When she looked over at Grogu, you followed, and saw the child was almost asleep, fatigued         from the long mental exchange, no doubt. She sighed as he let out gentle coos, right on the edge of rest. “Let him sleep.” She took a deep but silent breath. “I’ll test him in the morning.”

You got to your feet, walking over to Din’s side as he scooped up the child, pausing when her voice sounded at your back.

“You. Stay.”

Turning, you saw her looking you right in the eye as she got to her feet. “There’s something I want to try.”

Looking across your shoulder at Din, you saw him hesitate a few feet away. Nodding once, you jutted your chin in the direction of the Crest. “I’m fine. Go.” When he lingered, you sighed, closing the distance between you, your hand coming to rest on his upper arm. “If you’re gonna be all Mando about it, at least go sit and lean against the tree I was leaning against earlier. And try to sleep? Please?” Giving his arm a squeeze, you plastered on your best smile. “For me?”

“That’s not fair,” he sighed, turning to head over to the tree several yards away.

“Thank you!” You called after him, laughing when he waved a hand in the air dismissively. Turning back to face Ahsoka, you waited for her to explain.

“How did you come to know how to use the Force?”

Shifting your weight from foot to foot uncomfortably, you stared at her for a long moment before you found the courage to respond. So far in your life, you’d talked to a total of one other person about this. Din. Adding another finger to the count was hard.

“On my own. I just…. Did it. It’s not technically proper use of the Force, but by the time I was old enough to understand that, there was no proper training available. So I used it for mundane things until they came into my life.” You gestured behind you with a slight backwards lean of your head. “Now I only use it to help keep them safe. Well, and when Mando is being annoying. But I consider that saving my life, and sometimes his, depending on this situation.” You laughed softly.

“You don’t want training.” It wasn’t a question. An observation.

You shook your head. “The kid, he needs this. Deserves this. He’s going to do great things someday. He’ll always be my ad’ika, but the things he’s destined for are far from little.” (“Little one.”)

Ahsoka smiled fondly, nodding in agreement with a soft hum as she began to circle you slowly. “I can feel it in you. The chaos. The mischief you spoke of from the kyber, it simmers just below the surface.” She came to stop directly in front of you, her thumb and index finger clutching her chin in thought. “It’s part of what fuels you, gives you the strength you have, the abilities you’ve expressed like the visions and connections before their time, but….” Her eyes studied your face, darting all over until she found what she was looking for, finally returning to your eyes. “It’s also a source of anger for you. A loss of control. I sense a rage that sits just on the edge, ready to tip over with little provocation.”

Your eyes fell to the ground in shame. “The last few times I’ve gotten emotional, highly stressed or scared specifically, it…. It feels like I’m not in control.” Lifting your gaze to hers once again, you found only grace there, no scorn or judgment. “I’m able to stop it, rein it in, but each time it’s a little harder. It’s so easy. This last time I thought I was fine, that it had stopped at some crates shaking on a platform, but then Mando went to hug me, and I tried to gently push him off, but…. Instead I pushed him back several feet.” Looking down at your palms, you stared as if they held the answer. “It was like something exploded out of me, it wasn’t…. I didn’t….” Swallowing roughly, you lowered your hands as you lifted your head to look at her fully. “Please help me.”

As her hands went to clasp behind her back, she began to circle you again. “Tell me about this other vision.”

“It was something in the future, Mando’s future, to be exact.” She nodded for you to continue. “It happened right after the others, came on like a headache. Other Mandalorians asked if he’d removed his helmet. He said yes. They excommunicated him from their ranks. He was devastated in the vision and when I told him about it.”

“There’s something you’re leaving out. A detail…. Something small you couldn’t quite see.” Her head is tilted to the side as she rounds into your field of view again, passing around the other side a few seconds later.

“How did you….” You huffed. “I guess that’s the difference between proper training and not….” She chuckled at your muttered words. “A weapon. I think. I don’t know. A small black…. Something laid at his feet, but no matter how hard I looked, it was just like I was asleep, my eyes too bleary to make it out.”

Coming around in front of you for the umpteenth time, she stopped, looking at you with an arched brow. “I’m going to teach you something basic we learn in the Temple as younglings. I think it’ll help you learn to focus. Maybe, if you can apply the practice to this dream-”

“So it was a dream, not a vision?”

“It was the future, a possible outcome, however you want to call it.”

You sighed as she smiled before continuing. “If you can apply this practice to this vision, maybe it’ll help clear up any lingering confusion.”

Nodding your head vigorously, you stood a bit straighter. “Please. Yes. What do I need to do?”

She stood directly in front of you, walking a few paces away before turning to face you once again, her expression nothing but kind and amused. “I want you to jump.”

“How high?” You joked, your weight shifting easily onto one leg, thinking she was teasing.

“That is entirely up to you.”

Centering your weight again, your eyes widened before a look of incredulity crossed your features. “Oh, you’re serious?”

Hands still behind her back, she leaned just slightly toward you, her eyes practically dancing with held back laughter it seemed. “Jump.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “How does this help-”

“If you’d just do it, you’d understand.”

You whirled around when her voice sounded at your back, finding her now suddenly behind you several feet, stood in the same posture, hands behind her back patiently. “How did you….” Closing your eyes, your brows knit together, you shook your head in disbelief, eyes flying open when you felt a sudden surge in the air around you, a slight breeze making the finer hairs around your face move just slightly, only to find the spot she had been in empty.

“I promise this will work,” she said from off to your left, making you spin to try and find her yet again.

“Okay, now you're just showing off.” Hands on your hips, you grumbled at her with an arched brow, making her laugh.

Suddenly she shot up overhead like she had during the fight, landing back where she had started as if nothing had happened, and all you could do is watch with your jaw dropped. 

“Maybe,” she conceded, “but I thought a little demonstration was necessary, don’t you think?”

Lifting your chin and straightening your spine, you closed your eyes, tapping into everything around you. The Force flowed up from the ground, still vibrant and plush despite the barren surface surrounding you. A whole mess of creatures just below the surface working hard to repair the damaged soil sending vibrations across your skin. Ahsoka shined bright in front of you, little tendrils of energy rolling off of her like condensation on a nice cool drink. Somewhere behind you you heard Din and Grogu snoring softly, both of them emitting something so good and content that washed over you like waves.

It all built up in you like a spring, coiled and ready to burst, and when you bent your knees just slightly then rocked to the balls of your feet, suddenly the ground fell away, and with your eyes still closed, the wind rushing in your face made you grin.

Once something solid was under you once again, you peeked your eyes open to find yourself on the other side of Ahsoka now, standing on top of the rock you had been sitting on earlier. It was several feet away, much more than you should have been able to jump on your own. Your cape fluttered down around you from the force of the movement, swooshing just slightly until it came to a stop. 

You looked at Ahsoka, finding a lopsided grin climbing up her face as she watched you closely. “Now,” she said quietly, “use that focus, draw on it, and think about that vision. The object. The space. The people. Pull from everything, and let it build you a clearer picture.”

Nodding, you closed your eyes, recalling every aspect you could. The other Mandalorians. Din. Narrowing your brows you realized Grogu wasn’t there. You didn’t see yourself, either, but you could tell you were somewhere in the background, watching. 

The object at his feet shimmered like a mirage from the heat of Tatooine. That was different from before, now it was coming in and out of focus, still just enough hidden that you couldn’t tell what it was, though. 

“Then you are a Mandalorian no more.”

Your focus pulled to Din as the words of the other Mandalorian echoed in your head, and you saw his world shatter. He began to ask for forgiveness, how he could atone, and the other Mandalorian next to him made some jab, and you wanted to punch him for it. 

Sizing up the brute, you heard Ahsoka whisper near your left ear, “Focus….”

Shaking your head, you tried to do what she said, looking down at their feet to see the object clearly for the first time.

“It’s…. It’s a saber?” You tilted your head as you stared at the item, wanting to be certain. Din picked it up and left before the vision dissipated. You stared at Ahsoka with wide eyes. “A saber. But how can that be?”

“Describe it to me.”

“Black hilt, um…. The other Mandalorians didn’t seem surprised by it, either. It almost seemed like they had maybe been fighting over it with the position Mando and the asshole were in.”

A light went off behind her eyes, understanding covering her features. 

“Do you know it?”

Her head tilted to the side, a mischievous look taking over her face. “I think it’ll all be okay.”

“Mesh’la?”

Leaning to the side to look around Ahsoka, you saw Din standing near one of the rocks a few feet away, Grogu still snoring in his arms.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, the little womp rat did. Had some dream, started flailing, smacked my helmet pretty hard, actually. The sound woke me up….” He looked down as the kid started sleeping fitfully again.

Ahsoka reached out, placing a hand on his head, and instantly the lines on his face soothed, his limbs coming to still as he snuggled further into Din’s arms. “He’s dreaming about frogs,” she laughed softly.

“What have you two been doing?”

You smiled at Din as he looked at you expectantly. “Watch this.”

Xxx

The next day Ahsoka brought your little clan to a clearing, leading your little band as you brought up the rear. Grogu cooed from his spot in Din’s arms, looking all around with wide eyes.

You watched the mossy ground pass underfoot as you walked, marveling at the greenness of it as it squished beneath your feet. Growing up on a planet basically made of durasteel and concrete, you felt like you were walking on air. Leaning closer to Din in front of you, you pushed up onto your tip toes and whispered, “Somewhere green.”

He snorted. “This doesn't count.”

“I see green, it counts,” you grumbled.

“It’s barely even green, mesh’la. It’s moss. The rest of the planet is a wasteland.”

“It counts.”

“Fine, it can count,” he mumbled. “But as soon as I take you somewhere like Endor, or Naboo, even Sorgan….” Grogu’s ears perked up on the last one, his face turning up to look at Din with a smile. “You’re not even going to remember this place.”

Before you could respond, the group was coming to a stop, and before you realized, you were bumping into Din’s back with a soft oomph. “Ow,” you muttered pitifully, rubbing your nose as you took a step back.

Peering over your hand, you saw Ahsoka smiling at Grogu still perched in Din’s arms. “Let’s see what knowledge is lurking inside that little mind.” She booped his nose with her finger. Motioning over towards a nearby stone, she turned to look for something while Din set Grogu down on the large rock.

He sidled up beside you, muttering in a low voice, “What do you think she is going to do?”

“I’m not sure,” you studied her as she picked up a stone before rising to her feet again. “But I trust her.” Tilting your head back to look up into his visor, arms across your chest, you tried to ease his worry with a reassuring smile. “So far she hasn’t given me a reason not to.”

“No voices?”

The smile took a crooked tilt up in amusement as you turned your attention to Grogu. “No voices. No bad feelings. No premonitions. Nothing about the past, present, or future. And no taunting kyber crystals.” Turning back to his visor, you narrowed your eyes playfully. “Did I cover everything?”

“Just making sure,” he clarified somewhat teasingly, turning his own attention over to the child.

“Well, there was one voice.” You saw his head turn toward you in your peripheral and you smirked. “Hers. She spoke to me in my head.”

“You…. She…. Can do that?” He sounded amazed but also slightly disturbed.

“Easily,” you mused, trying to contain the broad grin trying to come out.

“Ne shab’rud’jetiise,” he mumbled under his breath, turning back to face Ahsoka with a slight incline of his head. (“Don’t fuck with Jedi.”)

Facing her palm upwards with a small stone resting in the center, she turned it toward Grogu, keeping the stone held firmly to her palm with the Force. Then, with a slight push, the stone began to float through the air slowly, gently tumbling end over end like a planet on its rotation. 

Din took in a sharp breath when the rock started levitating, holding it until the stone landed in Gorgu’s hands. Letting it out on a stutter, his chest deflated a bit with the motion, his shoulders curling forward just slightly in relief.

Letting out soft coos, Grogu looked at the stone, then over to you before he turned to Ahsoka.

Holding her palm face up once again, she smiled at him encouragingly. “Now, return the stone to me, Grogu.”

The child looked down at the stone one more time before lifting his gaze and darting it between the three of you, eyes wide and innocent. You’d seen this look before. He knew exactly what was going on, what was expected of him, but something stood in the way. He got almost a little bit…. Shy.

“He doesn’t understand,” Din finally offered after a long moment of silence, and you had to bite your lip to keep from grinning at how concerned he was.

“He does,” Ahsoka assured, turning from the Mandalorian to the child. “It’s okay,” she soothed after he whined quietly, staring down at the stone. Slightly bouncing her extended palm for emphasis, her tone once again grew more firm. “The stone, Grogu.”

With the slightest jerk of his head toward the Jedi, Din motioned for the child to do what she said. You almost rolled your eyes at him. Gone were the days of a cold Mandalorian, jumping from job to job and only worrying about credits and his ship. He’d never admit it out loud, but he wanted so badly everything for this child. He was the nervous father on the sidelines, trying to help their child succeed in any way they could. It made your chest feel too small for the feeling swelling inside it at the thought.

You brought a hand to cover your mouth in an attempt to hide the smile trying to betray you at the scene unfolding in front of you. When Grogu looked up at you after Din, it was all you could do to raise your eyebrows in encouragement and tilt your head toward Ahsoka like he had, keeping the smile sealed beneath your fingers.

The whole exchange felt light and easy, so it was surprising when the kid looked to the stone for a final time before dropping it in front of him with a frustrated grunt. It made your brows knit together as you studied your little ward, trying to reach out to him with encouraging thoughts, happy things, maybe even something about frogs, but he was completely closed off to you.

Din let out a sigh behind you, his weight shifting slightly as you knew he, too, was feeling Grogu’s discouragement without any need of using the Force.

Ahsoka let out a sigh of her own, before walking over and crouching in front of Grogu, staring at him intently. When she reached out and took his small hand with hers, you reached out to try and feel what they were ‘saying’. Closing her eyes she ducked her head and took a deep breath before she spoke calmly. “I sense much fear in you.”

Grogu looked at her as he babbled softly, ears wiggling as he did. You didn’t sense anything from him to her, he didn’t even try, but there was a small tendril being extended to you, faint and tentative, like a child hiding in their mother’s skirts when a long lost relative comes to visit. You let every calming thing you could think of flow back on the line being precariously hung between you. Be brave, ad’ika.

Walking back over to her spot across the clearing from the child, Ahsoka explained softly. “He’s hidden his abilities to survive over the years.”

Din shifted his weight to one side, his head tilting ever so slightly to the right. “So has she, but she doesn’t have this problem.”

Keeping your eyes on Grogu, you explained in a quiet voice, “I didn’t watch everyone I love die.” Your gaze fell down to study the ground, your voice so low you pictured it skimming just along the surface. “I kept it hidden. He’s kept it buried.” You turned your face up to look at his visor. “Imagine the Crest sat for a year, untouched. At the end of that time, it’s still a ship. But everything about it is going to be rusty, gunky, need a good tune up.” Grogu cooed, bringing your attention back to him with a smile. “He just needs a little elbow grease, is all.”

Humming in agreement, Ahsoka nodded once. “Let’s try something else. Come over here.”

Din jerked his head to the side, beckoning the kid over once again, sighing when Grogu stayed where he was. “He’s stubborn.”

“Not him. You.”

Din turned his attention back to her quickly, your palm coming to slap over your forehead as your eyes scrunched up tight.

“I want to see if he’ll listen to you.” She smiled softly in amusement.

He scoffed, walking over to stand beside her. “That would be a first.”

“I like firsts. Good or bad, they’re always memorable.” She placed the pebble in his hand. “Now, hold the stone out in the palm of your hand. Tell him to lift it up.” She began to walk around behind him, headed toward where you stood to the side. 

He sighed again, doing what she asked. “Alright, kid. Lift the stone.”

Ahsoka paused before she made it very far, leaning in by his ear to whisper pointedly, “Grogu.”

Din’s weight shifted side to side as he turned his visor on her, a heavy breath, not quite a sigh, filling in the silence. Facing the child once again, his posture stiffened just a bit. “Grogu….” The child perked up with that adorable new sound he made whenever he heard his name. “Come on, take the stone.” Grogu deflated, his gaze turning toward the ground with a dejected coo. “You see? I told you, he’s stubborn.” This time you actually did roll your eyes when Din enacted every bit the stubborn one and threw the rock to the side in annoyance. 

“I wonder where he gets that from,” you mumbled, simply smiling at him when he tilted his head at you in response.

“Try to connect with him.”

After a long moment, Din reached into his belt, pulling the little silver ball out, the child instantly peering up curiously. 

“Grogu…. Do you want this?” Din spoke tantalizingly, lowering to his haunches and holding the ball out in front of him. “Well, go ahead. That’s right, take it. Come on. You can have it.” He nodded his head once, gesturing toward the ball. “Come on.”

The ball flew through the air like you had seen a million times on the ship, straight into the kid’s hand. A small burst of joy surged in the air from Grogu, but it quickly faded into something a little more nervous as he stared at the little silver orb.

Din quickly stepped over to him, praise tumbling out of his mouth excitedly. “Good job! Good job, kid. You see that?” He lowered to his haunches, taking the ball back from the child gently. “That’s right. I knew you could do it. Very good.”

You could feel something anxious roll over Ahsoka beside you, and you chanced a glance her way, finding her looking at the pair of them in concern. You knew where this was headed, you’d seen it from the start. You had just hoped that maybe since the Jedi Order wasn’t around anymore that someone would be willing to bend the rules, especially for someone like Grogu. Turning back to watch Din still fawning over the child, you had to physically bite your tongue to not say anything. This needed to come from her.

“He’s formed a strong attachment to you.” Din turned his head to look at her briefly before looking at Grogu again. “I cannot train him.”

Her last words brought him back to his feet. “What? Why not? You’ve seen what he can do.”

You hung back, leaning on the rock you had been observing from, looking between the three of them. Your heart admittedly broke a little to hear the words you already knew would be said. You had found a way. Sure, you weren’t actually a Jedi, but like Ahsoka had said, that didn’t stop some kyber from choosing you. That didn’t stop the Force from making you a clan of three. Attachment hadn’t been something wrong for you, but you saw it was something almost terrifying for her. Something beyond just the teachings of the Jedi. Something about this felt personal.

“His attachment to you makes him vulnerable to his fears. His anger.” She looked at you pointedly on the last word, almost begging you to understand.

And you did. To a degree. There was also a part of you that still believed this was best for him. The part that had been in that vision with him, had felt his peace and comfort from the halls of the Temple. There was a part of him that longed for this, no matter how deep it was buried.

“All the more reason to train him.” Din was having none of it.

“No.” She stepped closer, her voice lowering. “I’ve seen what such feelings can do to a fully trained Jedi Knight. To the best of us.” The last part was almost like an afterthought, and you watched her closely, unable to get another read on her. Her walls had gone up. “I will not start this child down that path. Better to let his abilities fade.” Looking at Grogu one more time, she turned and began to walk away, passing right by you without a second glance. “I’ve delayed too long. I must get back to the village.”

The child began to whine softly, so you started over toward him, stopping when Din began to speak again, turning to watch the Jedi’s reaction.

“The Magistrate sent me to kill you.” Ahsoka froze at Din’s words. Slowly she turned to look at him over her shoulder, something between disbelief and ‘I should have known better’ on her face. “I didn’t agree to anything,” he continued in a softer tone. “And I’ll help you with your problem, if you see to it that Grogu is properly trained.”

She turned around fully to look at the child once again, but you were standing in the way. She met your eyes as you stepped aside, allowing her gaze to flicker down to the child and you watched the decision roll behind her eyes as she let out a heavy sigh.

Xxx

Walking through the woods back toward the village, Din carrying the child in the satchel and you carrying the bundle of armor until you could get back to the Crest, you listened as they discussed the technicalities of an attack.

Din listed off blasters and droids and a whole mess of things Ahsoka just nodded to, while you made a face at the kid, making him smile from his little perch.

You finally began to listen when Din spoke of the man who had let you into the village. “He reads ex-military to me.”

You scoffed before you mumbled, “He reads asshole to me.”

Din shook his head at you as a soft snort passed through his modulator, Ahsoka smiling fondly. “Combined, not even your laser swords would be able to protect you from all that firepower.”

“You do this on purpose, don’t you?” You turned up toward Din, adjusting the bundle on your back as you stared into his visor. 

Ahsoka still smiled, Din just tilting his head at you as she finally spoke. “True. But don’t underestimate the Magistrate either.”

Finally coming to a stop, you dropped the bundle of armor with a thud as they discussed the lady that had hired Din. Stretching your back as you listened, you grimaced at the stiffness in your limbs, shooting the kid a wink when he cooed at you.

“She plundered worlds, destroying them in the process.” 

That was enough for you. Anywhere that had life outside of trillions of people crawling around like bugs on duracrete and steel deserved to be saved, not looted. You hated this woman even more now.

“When you were in the city did you see any prisoners?”

“I saw three villagers strung up just outside the inner gate.” 

So that’s what you’d heard. You stared at the ground as they continued to talk back and forth, worrying your thumbnail between your teeth. There were no voices, nothing sinister in the back of your mind, just a genuine bad feeling about the whole thing simmering just under your skin. 

“We must find a way to free them.”

Din’s voice was amused as he continued. “A Mandalorian and a Jedi? They’ll never see it coming.”

“And whatever I am.” You didn’t even realize you said it out loud, your head snapping up when you feel three sets of eyes on you. It had been meant to be out loud, then you’d thought better of it, but still it had come tumbling out into the open before you realized it.

Ahsoka placed a hand on your upper arm and a sense of calm began to wash over you. It wasn’t mind control like you had done with Mythrol, but instead just a surge of something good, something rooted deep from within her being shared with you. “You are yourself. And that is all you could ever hope to be.”

Xxx

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[morningsharksworld]

Hairbrush

DBZ Raditz x Reader FLUFF

A/N: GOD THE HYPERFIXATION IS GETTING WORSE anyway another fluff DBZ fic because I absolutely DO NOT like raditz and DO NOT want to brush his hair at all.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Raditz sat on the edge of your bed, his muscular frame sinking slightly into the mattress. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest and his scowl was practically etched into his face. Yet, despite his apparent reluctance, he didn’t move away as you approached with a brush in hand.

“Are you done? Hurry up and get this over with” he grumbled, his deep voice tinged with irritation. His tail flicked behind him in subtle agitation, betraying his discomfort.

You couldn’t help but smile at his stubbornness. “Alright, alright, just sit still” you replied, climbing onto the bed behind him. His long, wild mane of hair spilled down his back, untamed and defiant—much like its owner.

Raditz was a warrior, through and through. His pride as a Saiyan was practically a part of his DNA, and moments like this intimate, vulnerable moment were…few and far between. But somehow, you’d managed to crack through that gruff exterior, just enough to convince him to let you do this.

Your fingers gently combed through the thick strands, searching for the most tangled spots. “You know, your hair’s really not as bad as you think” you commented, trying to lighten the mood. “If you’d just take care of it every once in a while, it wouldn’t take me half an hour to get through it.”

Raditz scoffed, though his shoulders relaxed slightly under your touch. “Saiyans don’t waste time on trivial things like grooming” he said, though the faintest hint of color dusted his cheeks. “We have better things to do… like fighting.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Oh, I’m sure. Heaven forbid you take a break from punching things to look after yourself.”

He didn’t respond, but you could feel the heat radiating from him. Whether it was from embarrassment or something else, you weren’t sure. You worked quietly for a while, the brush gliding through his hair with increasing ease as you tamed the wild tangles. Every now and then, your fingers would graze the back of his neck and you’d feel him tense, only to relax again moments later.

“You’re the only person I’d let do this” he muttered suddenly, his voice barely audible. It caught you off guard and you paused mid-stroke, the brush hovering in midair.

“What was that?” you asked, a teasing lilt to your voice.

He growled, his tail flicking again. “Don’t make me repeat myself” he said, but there was no real bite to his words. If anything they sounded… soft.

Your heart swelled a little at the admission. Raditz was many things—brash, arrogant, sometimes downright insufferable. But underneath all of that, he was loyal. You knew he trusted you in a way he trusted no one else, and moments like this proved it.

You resumed brushing, taking extra care now to be gentle. “I’ll take that as a compliment” you said with a small smile.

He huffed, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitch upward just slightly. When you finally finished, his hair was smooth and shining, cascading down his back like a dark waterfall. You set the brush aside and leaned back to admire your work. “There, all done. You look… surprisingly good” you said, half-joking.

Raditz turned his head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the window. He grunted, clearly unimpressed, but there was no mistaking the faint flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. “I suppose it’s… acceptable” he said gruffly.

You laughed, nudging his shoulder lightly. “You’re welcome, you big softie.”

He snorted, but there was no malice in it. “You’re lucky I tolerate you” he said, standing up and ruffling his hair slightly, as if to reclaim some of his rugged image.

“Yeah, yeah” you replied, watching him head toward the door. Just before he left, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

“Thanks” he said quietly.

But instead of leaving, he hesitated, his hand resting on the doorframe. He turned back to you, his expression conflicted. You raised an eyebrow, curious.

“What is it?” you asked softly.

He walked back toward you, his steps deliberate. Before you could say another word, he reached out, his large hand cupping your cheek. His dark eyes searched yours, as if trying to find the right words.

“You mean more to me than I let on” he admitted, his voice low and sincere. “I’m not good at this… at saying things. But you should know.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your heart race at his confession. “Raditz…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned down slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. Instead, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a gentle, tender kiss. His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your head, holding you close as if afraid you’d disappear.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed. “You’re insufferable” he muttered, though there was no heat behind the words. Instead, his tail curled around your waist, holding you in place.

You laughed softly, your hands resting against his chest. “And you’re impossible” you replied, your voice filled with warmth.

For once, Raditz didn’t argue. Instead, he held you close, a rare and genuine smile gracing his lips. In that moment, the walls he kept so carefully constructed around himself seemed to crumble, leaving only the man who trusted you and maybe, just maybe, loved you.

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : FALLING FOR THE SPOTLIGHT (PT.3) : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None besides Kyle

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: You begin your first day as Hugh’s assistant, nervously picking an outfit while your roommate Zoë teases you. At work, Hugh is warm and welcoming, easing your nerves. A subtle tension with a colleague, Kyle, adds intrigue to the day. By evening, Hugh invites you to a celebratory dinner, where personal conversation hints at a deeper connection. Now, you’re left balancing your new job and the possibility of something more with Hugh.

Previous Part | Next Part

THE MORNING SUNLIGHT STREAMED THROUGH YOUR WINDOWS, casting a golden hue across the room as you stood in front of your closet, anxiously deciding on what to wear for your first official day working as Hugh Jackman’s assistant. Your mind raced with questions. Should you go for professional or something more casual? What kind of first impression would it make? You could still feel the excitement from when Hugh called to officially offer you the job, and now the moment had arrived.

Zoë, leaned against the doorframe with a cup of coffee in hand, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she watched you frantically sift through clothes for what felt like the millionth time. She had been your sounding board throughout this whirlwind of interviews and meetings, and now she seemed determined to offer her version of calm reassurance.

“You know,” Zoë began, her grin wide and teasing, “you’re going to be late if you don’t make a decision soon. He’s not going to care if you wear something casual. Besides, you’re literally working with Hugh Jackman. He’s already seen you in all your nervous glory during that interview.”

You shot her a half-smile, finally grabbing a tailored blazer and blouse, trying to maintain some level of professionalism despite your nerves. "I know, but it’s the first day, Zoë. I can’t screw this up, and there’s just something about him… you know what I mean."

Zoë’s eyes sparkled as she walked over, gently adjusting the collar of your shirt with a knowing smirk. "Oh, I know. You’ve had a crush on the man for years. Can’t say I blame you—he’s Hugh freaking Jackman." She let out a soft laugh before adding, “But relax, okay? You’ve got this. Just be yourself, and if things get awkward, well, I expect all the juicy details when you get back.”

You took a deep breath, giving yourself one last glance in the mirror. Your outfit was polished yet comfortable, and though your heart raced at the thought of seeing Hugh again, a sense of excitement began to settle in. Grabbing your bag, you turned to Zoë with a playful grin. “Okay, wish me luck.”

“Good luck! And don’t forget to send me updates. I’m living vicariously through you now,” Zoë called after you as you headed out the door, her laughter trailing behind you.

~

Arriving at the office, you felt a flutter of nerves, but excitement quickly overshadowed it. The sleek, modern lobby welcomed you with the soft hum of activity. As you approached the receptionist’s desk, she greeted you with a warm smile, already recognizing you from your previous visit. "Welcome back! Hugh’s waiting for you in his office. You can head right up."

You thanked her, took a deep breath, and headed toward the elevator. The ride to the top floor felt longer than it should have, the soft hum of the elevator doing little to calm your racing thoughts. When the doors finally opened, Hugh’s office door was slightly ajar, and you caught a glimpse of him standing by the window, gazing out at the city below.

The sight of him—his tall frame silhouetted by the sunlight—was enough to send your nerves into overdrive. But as soon as he heard your footsteps, he turned around, his face breaking into a wide, welcoming smile. “There she is! Right on time.”

His voice was warm and familiar, and just like that, some of the tension melted away. You smiled back, grateful for his casual, easy demeanor. “Good morning! I’m really excited to get started.”

Hugh stepped forward, his smile widening as he gestured toward the desk. “You look fantastic. Ready for your first day?”

Before you could respond, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice in that playful way you were beginning to recognize. “Don’t worry, I won’t throw everything at you today. We’ll ease into the chaos.”

You laughed, relaxing into the moment. "Good to know."

As you settled into the chair across from his desk, you noticed a few papers scattered across the surface. Hugh motioned toward them with a smile. “We’ll get through some of this together, but first,” his eyes twinkled with mischief, “a little heads-up: Don’t let Kyle distract you too much.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Kyle? He seemed nice."

Hugh’s lips twitched into a grin, though there was something playful but slightly guarded in his eyes. “Yeah, Kyle’s nice, but he has a way of hanging around when he shouldn’t. Seems to like you already, which could become… entertaining.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, brushing off his comment. “Well, as long as I don’t get too distracted.”

Hugh’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, his expression unreadable before he shook his head with a soft chuckle. “Right. Let’s get you settled in.”

~

The morning passed in a blur of meetings, explanations, and introductions to the various people you’d be working with. Hugh was patient, guiding you through the workflow with a mix of seriousness and humor, always finding a way to make even the most mundane tasks feel lighter.

It wasn’t long before Kyle dropped by, poking his head in to see how you were settling. He greeted you with the same easy smile from the interview, but something about his demeanor felt different now. There was a slight tension in the air between him and Hugh that hadn’t been as noticeable before. It wasn’t exactly hostility, but more like a subtle power dynamic you were only beginning to pick up on.

Kyle flashed you a friendly smile, lingering a bit longer than necessary. “How’s the first day going?”

You smiled back, nodding. “It’s good! Just getting the hang of things.”

Kyle’s gaze lingered on you a little longer before shifting to Hugh. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Just wanted to check in.”

Hugh watched him leave, his expression unreadable. Once the door clicked shut, he leaned back in his chair, his usual playful confidence slipping for just a moment. “Kyle should work more and talk less,” he sighed. When he saw your slightly confused expression, he quickly cleared his throat. “Like i said, he’s a good guy, but sometimes he could work a little harder, instead of lingering around other people.”

You nodded, but sensed there was something beneath the surface—something unsaid between them. It wasn’t just professional. There was a hint of tension, perhaps even rivalry, that you couldn’t quite place. But for now, you let it go, focusing on the task at hand.

~

By late afternoon, you felt like you were starting to get the hang of things. The work was demanding but rewarding, and you found yourself enjoying the back-and-forth with Hugh. He had a way of making everything feel like a collaboration, and his frequent jokes and light touches—his hand brushing against yours when passing a document, his shoulder lightly bumping yours—didn’t go unnoticed.

At one point, while you were both reviewing some documents, his knee brushed against yours under the table. It was brief but enough to send a jolt through you. You glanced up to find him already watching you, his eyes warm with a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“You’re doing great,” he said softly, his voice low and intimate, as if the words were meant just for you. “I knew I made the right choice.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you smiled, trying to play it cool. “Thanks, Hugh. I’m really glad to be here.”

~

As the day wound down, Hugh stretched in his chair, casting a glance at you. “So, I was thinking… since you’ve survived your first day, maybe we should celebrate. How does dinner sound?”

His voice was casual, but the look in his eyes was anything but. You hesitated for a second, wondering if this was crossing a line. But something about the way he smiled at you—the playful warmth in his expression—made it impossible to say no.

“Dinner sounds good,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, though inside, your thoughts were racing.

When Hugh left the office to grab some coffee, you immediately pulled out your phone and texted Zoë.

YOU: Zoë!! Hugh literally just asked me out for dinner!

Zoë’s response was fast.

ZOË: HE DID WHAT?

YOU: He said to celebrate my first day. What the hell is going on?!?

ZOË: And on your first day too! Girl, you better tell me everything when you’re home.

You smiled at your phone.

YOU: I will!! Gotta go now, talk to you later

ZOË: Bye babe have fun

~

Later that evening, Hugh took you to a cozy restaurant not far from the office. The soft lighting and flickering candles made the atmosphere feel intimate, almost romantic. As you both sat down, Hugh ordered a bottle of wine, glancing at you with that same playful spark in his eyes.

“You know,” he began, swirling the wine in his glass, “I don’t usually take my assistants out for dinner on their first day.”

You smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh? Should I feel special?”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Absolutely.”

The conversation flowed easily, laughter mingling with soft, comfortable silences. At one point, he asked about your family, your hobbies, and even your favorite films. The questions felt personal, as if he was trying to learn more about you—not just his assistant, but the person behind the role.

By the time the meal ended, you were more relaxed, but the undercurrent between you two had grown stronger. There was a lingering tension neither of you had fully addressed, but it was impossible to ignore.

~

After dinner, Hugh drove you back to your apartment. The car ride was filled with soft conversation and shared glances. When he pulled up outside, he turned toward you, his expression warm and sincere. “I had a great time tonight.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering. “Me too. Thank you, Hugh.”

As you reached for the door handle, his hand gently touched your arm, stopping you. For a brief second, you thought he was going to kiss you, but instead, he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on your cheek, his breath warm against your skin.

As you stepped out of the car, the cool night air was a welcome change from the warmth of Hugh’s touch. You turned to give him one last smile before heading toward your building. Hugh watched you for a moment, his expression a mix of warmth and something more contemplative. As you entered your apartment building, you could still feel the gentle warmth of his kiss lingering on your cheek.

The elevator ride to your floor felt unusually long, your mind buzzing with the evening's events. As you walked down the hallway toward your apartment, you could already hear Zoë’s voice echoing from inside, her enthusiasm unmistakable. The moment you opened the door, she was there, leaning against the kitchen counter with an expectant grin.

“Alright, spill,” she said, crossing her arms. “How was your first day, and what’s the deal with the dinner invitation? You look like you’ve been on a date, not just a work dinner.”

You dropped your bag on the floor and laughed, running a hand through your hair as you tried to process everything. “It was… amazing. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but Hugh was great. The job seems challenging, but in a good way. And the dinner—”

You stopped, searching for the right words. “The dinner was definitely more personal than I thought it would be. We talked about a lot of things, not just work. It was… nice. And weird. And kind of… intense.”

Zoë’s eyes widened, her curiosity piqued. “Intense? How so?”

You took a seat at the kitchen table, trying to piece together your thoughts. “Well, Hugh was really open with me, asking about my life, my interests. It didn’t feel like a typical work dinner. There was definitely some sort of… connection. But then there’s also the fact that I’m his new assistant, so I’m not sure if I’m reading too much into it.”

Zoë leaned forward, her interest clearly captured. “Sounds like there might be a little more going on than just work. Did he give you any signs of interest? I mean, that kiss on the cheek—”

You frowned. “How do you know about the kiss?” Zoë grinned while holding her hands up. “Zoë!” You sighed with a smile, wanting her to speak up.

“Okay, i might have looked through the window. I heard a car outside and wanted to know if it was you. And then i saw how he kissed your fucking cheek!” Zoë explained excitedly.

You let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t know. It was sweet, but it felt like it could be just him being friendly. It’s hard to say. I guess I’m just trying to figure out what it all means.”

Zoë nodded thoughtfully, her expression a mix of excitement and concern. “Well, if it were me, I’d say enjoy the attention, but keep your feet on the ground. You’re there to work first and foremost.”

“I know,” you said, smiling at her. “I’ll try to stay focused. It’s just… hard not to get caught up in the excitement.”

~

The next morning, you woke up feeling both energized and apprehensive. It was your second day at the office, and you wanted to make sure you started off on the right foot. After a quick breakfast and a final check of your outfit—another tailored blazer, but this time with a slightly more relaxed blouse—you headed out.

The office was already buzzing with activity when you arrived. You checked in with the receptionist, who informed you that Hugh had a busy schedule but would be expecting you shortly. As you settled into your desk, you glanced around, taking in the dynamic work environment. The team seemed focused but friendly, and you were beginning to feel like a part of the larger picture.

Kyle, however, was noticeably absent in the morning. You found yourself wondering about his role and how he fit into the office dynamics. When he finally arrived, he gave you a nod of acknowledgment but seemed preoccupied with his own tasks. His earlier warmth from your first meeting was replaced with a more distant, professional demeanor.

You were deep in thought when Hugh strolled into the office, his energy as vibrant as ever. “Good morning!” he called out, his voice cutting through the hum of activity. “Ready for another day?”

You looked up, meeting his gaze with a smile. “Good morning, Hugh. Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Hugh walked over to your desk, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Great! I’ve got a few meetings scheduled, but I thought we could start with a quick catch-up on some of the ongoing projects. I want to make sure you’re up to speed.”

As you reviewed the projects together, Hugh’s easy manner made the information feel less overwhelming. His explanations were clear and accompanied by his usual light-hearted banter, which made even the most technical details seem approachable.

Throughout the day, you found yourself increasingly comfortable in your role. The work was demanding, but Hugh’s supportive attitude helped keep the stress at bay. His occasional touches—his hand brushing yours when handing over papers, his close proximity during discussions—continued to make your heart race. Each interaction seemed to build on the previous one, creating a blend of professional respect and something more personal.

By late afternoon, you were feeling confident in your new position. As you prepared to leave for the day, Hugh approached you, his expression thoughtful. “I wanted to thank you again for yesterday. It was nice to get to know you better.”

You smiled, feeling a flush of warmth at his words. “It was my pleasure. I had a great time.”

Hugh hesitated for a moment, then continued, “So, I was thinking… if you’re free this weekend, maybe we could catch up over coffee or something? Just to talk more about how things are going.”

The invitation was casual, but the way he looked at you made it clear that he was hoping for something more than just a friendly coffee chat.

You nodded, your heart skipping a beat. “I’d like that. Let me know when you’re free.”

~

As you left the office, your thoughts buzzed with possibilities. Hugh was making it pretty clear that your professional relationship could evolve into something more, but navigating those waters would require careful consideration. For now, though, you were eager to embrace this new chapter of your life, both the challenges and the potential for something beyond work.

As you stepped out into the crisp evening air, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. The future was full of possibilities, and with Hugh by your side, it seemed like anything was possible.

🏷️: @oatmilkriver @khxna @hughverine @junnniiieee07 @stark-ironman @marcswife21 @boomveronika @shiawaseorii @shybluebirdninja @mutilatedcupid @corvusmorte @iluvfanficsstuff @stickyunknownsubstance @miha080 @acescutejeans-1247 @ladydimitrecutlou @iwannadie07 @whimsiwitchy @bitchydragonparadisee @imagineinside @seasonofthenerd @2fatblunt @spideybv28 @haytchee @skylinesadness @mega-kittyglitter-1 @white-wolf-buckaroo @dinosaurluminary @larkkyoris @narjuko @wolviesgirl @lovingyeet @addelal @starryeddie @nizem8 @phantomof-themcu @rexmeshlasblog @lil1crusty @angeiulst @yoonessa @pedroscurls @wolverigrl @meowmeowyoongles

If you want to be added to the taglist let me know!!

Also check out an upcoming project i’m working including Hugh :

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : SUMMER FLING: :;

I don’t know if i wanna wait until i finish this series before publishing Summer Fling or if i should just publish it somewhere this week and maybe even it out with publishing chapters every day? One day for Falling for the Spotlight and the other day for Summer Fling? What do y’all think? I don’t want to make it confusing 😭

[tofics]

Notes incoming! You have been warned! :D

What I liked about the beginning was that the routine they have down after two years is tangible.

As you go to look for the moisturizer you pretend he doesn’t borrow from your nightstand, you watch him from the corner of your eye. Even dressed down in his loose shirt and pajama pants, he seems tired, and tense.

Specifically the part "from the corner of your eye" made the scene very palpable to me. Observing your partner doing their evening routine and getting a feel for their mood. Even though Dean is clearly not doing well here, the fact that he gets to have that kind of intimacy with a partner made me all :")

“Sorry,” he says, pulling your hand out of his pants. “Just uh…not really in the mood.” You lift up the covers and glance down at the half-pitched tent in his pants with a raised brow. “You sure about that?” you ask.

^ Exactly my reaction when I read this, lol.

He glances back up at you, and finds you weeping. Your lower lip trembles. Guilt hits Dean harder between the ribs when he realizes what he’s been putting you through. What he’s still putting you through. He cups your cheek and wipes away a stray tear. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says. You shake your head. “It’s not just that we can’t…it’s that I can’t help you,” you reply, with a tremble in your voice. “I can’t do anything.”

I don't know if it was intended or if I read into this, but when she says "It's not just that we can't...", despite the despair they're both going through, I had to laugh, specifically because "It's not just that we can't..." read as "I'm not just crying because we can't have sex" and that just made me crack up. With that in mind, going back to where she says that it's been a month since they last slept together and Dean going "God damn I sure have been putting my girl through a lot... she's not even getting laid" just added a layer of humor to this scene for me. Again, not sure if this was intended :D But even if it wasn't, I still like it, because handling crappy situations with a little bit humor can sometimes lighten the weight of it all a little. Anyway, I'm rambling, but I hope I did get my point across here. ALSO: I very very much felt her pain for not being able to help. Watching someone you love with all your heart suffer, knowing you can't do anything about it, really is a special kind of suffering on its own.

“I wish I could take this from you,” you confess. He sighs. “I don’t.”

Not Dean feeling sorry for putting his girlfriend through so much worrying and apologizing about it two seconds prior. I'm watching you, Winchester. You don't get to wish to lighten people's burden when you don't let them do the same for you!

Michael outta my friggin’ head, he thinks.

Yes. That is exactly how Dean would think that. 10/10 character representation. (You always write Dean so well.)

And the lights come back on. Sam and Dean’s eyes widen when they realize who they’re faced with.   “Dad?” Dean says incredulously.

Now this isn't related to your writing, but ever since watching that episode I had the idea of the reader originally being from the Walking Dead Universe and they just completely shit their pants because they've never seen a picture of Sam and Dean's dad before and now HOLY SHIT NEGAN IS RIGHT THERE IN THE BUNKER WITH THEM lol. Just the absolute chaos of the reader being like "GET THAT MAN AWAY FROM ME" and all three Winchesters being like 👀? Are u okay?

Lol anyway.

John chuckles. “Latina, huh?”  “Oh, yeah,” Dean grins.

“Nice,” his father nods with another short laugh. But it evens out into a certain smile. “How long’ve you two been together?” Dean mentally counts it back. You often calculate it from the first time he officially asked you out for a nice dinner here in town. He likes to count it from that very first night he finally got a taste of your sweet café con leche…in more ways than one. “Two years and some change. Almost three,” he says. John gives a low whistle. “Look at you,” he remarks. And he seems pleased, with a gleam in his eyes that warms Dean deep inside. “Good for you, son. Glad to see you’ve got someone to hold you down.”

:""""") For two reasons: a) Dean being in a happy relationship for almost 3 years b) John finding out his son's got a special someone *cries happy tears*

It’s a good thing you went grocery shopping yesterday, or else you’d be shit out of luck trying to put something together for dinner. There happened to be a sale going on in the seafood section, so you find that you have everything you need to make a Spanish paella. You get to chopping the onions, bell peppers, garlic, tomato, and parsley first before anything else. While that starts sautéing in the pan, you break out the chicken, shrimp, and mussels from their individually wrapped packages.

Girl. You made me HUNGRY. It's been too long since I had paella. It's been too long since I've been to SPAIN. I literally grunted reading this like "yes please onto my plate into my stomach now thank you very much"

On one hand, you’re so happy for Sam and Dean. And of course for Mary, who’s about to get her entire world flipped upside down. You have so many questions for John Winchester…but not all of them would be pleasant.

Y e s. Thank you. Exactly what I was thinking. Family reunion is great and all but sir. Can we talk about how you fucked these boys up? Like, Mr Winchester, sir, are you aware that your sons have massive daddy issues?

You shake your head. “I don’t know. From the point in time you can remember, with Sam in college. Or maybe further back…from when they were kids.” You try your best not to make it sound like a leading question, but you don’t think you’ve disguised it well enough. John stares back at you, as if the lines are now connecting in his mind.

I was holding my breath seeing how John would react. Here is this woman that he's just met questioning his parenting skills. Being yanked out of a timeline where Sam was still in school and Dean was still all "Yes sir, of course sir, right away sir" I wouldn't have been surprised if John was about to give her a piece of his mind.

He’s somehow both taken aback, and amused by that fact. Trust Dean to be with a woman who goes for the jugular.

I loved this bit so much. Perhaps John seeing some of his Mary in the reader? Ofc at that point (before the prequel) John never knew about Mary's hunting past but he still knows his wife's got fire inside of her and he can see that in the reader too. That was a special moment to me. John seeing his own son come after him in a perfectly healthy way :")

John surprises you by shaking his head, smiling. “That’s what I wanted to say to you.” You falter at that. Me? you think. Why would he want to thank me?

I need the reader and Dean to get their calendars out so we can collectively agree on a date where I put the two of them in a room with massive speakers which just repeats "You are good people who have done good things for the people in your life, you are deserving of all good things and must learn to accept gratitude when it is due and given" again and again :)

“Listen, I thought it might be better if the four of you have dinner together. I’ll just eat here in the kitchen,” you say. Dean’s brows furrow, but you try to explain before he can start protesting. “You don’t have a lot of time left with your dad. This is the first time you’re getting to be together with your family like this. I just want to make sure you get the most out of it.”

Too good for this world. Literally. Warmed my heart SO much. But also. Can she please realize that is part of Dean's family? Thank you.

“You being there doesn’t take anything away from me being with them,” he says sternly. “And you’re part of my family. Part of our family. I’m not gonna have you eating in here by yourself like you’re a leper or something. Come on.”

What I said. Ha. No but seriously. This show's Dean's love for the reader so much. Because she has a point. John's only here for a very short amount of time and this is a once-in-a-lifetime-chance that they'll never get again. And Dean's just like "Ummmmmh as far as I'm concerned my family consist of five people, thank you very much" and just :") When Dean loves, he loves BIG.

Michael still paces back and forth in his mind, but for now, Dean’s able to tune it out and focus on this moment, with you. 

🥹🥹🥹 ALL the feels. This was such a feel-good story, despite the sadness it contains. I loved every little piece of it. Hats off to you, again. Chefs kiss. We are a blessed fandom to have you.

A Wish to Build a Dream On

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader

Summary: Dean has been harboring the archangel Michael in his mind for weeks now, putting a strain on your relationship as you struggle to help him. When Dean makes a wish that accidentally brings his father back from the dead, you get to meet the (in)famous John Winchester. But as always with magic, your boyfriend’s wish has unintended consequences.

AN: Welcome back to the Espresso-verse! This is set in 14.13: “Lebanon,” of course, but chronologically in the storyverse, it sits between Show Me and In Bad Weather.

Song Inspo: The story title was inspired by “A Kiss to Build a Dream On” by Louis Armstrong, but the real song inspiration for this is “Come Back Down” by Lifehouse.

Word Count: 7k~

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only to be safe. Spiciness/smuttish, angst, hurt/comfort, hint of body insecurity, and feels. 

Start from the beginning of the series: ⤵️

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Sometimes, even the mundane in a two-year relationship can become new. And not in a good way. 

You and Dean are getting ready for bed, taking turns brushing your teeth. When you’re done, he comes in behind you at the sink and starts up his routine.

As you go to look for the moisturizer you pretend he doesn’t borrow from your nightstand, you watch him from the corner of your eye. Even dressed down in his loose shirt and pajama pants, he seems tired, and tense.  

Maybe because he’s been harboring the archangel Michael in his mind for an entire month. 

You know Dean hasn’t been sleeping well, if at all. Now, he seems to be anticipating another fitful night. It doesn’t sit well with you to see the tension in his shoulders, the lines around his eyes that aren’t from laughing.

You wait until he slips into his side of the bed. Then you turn over and sidle up against him. You prop your elbow against his pillow, so you can look down on him with a smile. His brows twitch upwards.

“Well, hey,” he says. His arm settles around your waist under the covers. You stroke his cheek.

“Hey,” you reply. Though you don’t ask him if he’s all right. You already know the answer. Instead, you dip down for a kiss.

At first it’s just a sweet meeting of lips. You part from him softly, letting your thumb drag back and forth across his prickly cheek. He breathes in deeply and allows himself to savor the touch.

You dive back in again for a deeper taste, finding minty freshness with your tongue. He hums in response. His hold tightens on your waist, while your fingers drift down his neck, down his chest over his shirt. And then, they slip under the worn-out waistband of his sweatpants.

He groans deep in his throat when you stroke up and down the full length of him with a practiced hand. His knee bends on reflex, and he sucks in a breath as pleasure stirs low inside him.

But he stops you, grabbing your wrist gently, but firm.

You break the kiss in confusion. Dean’s eyes are still closed, brows furrowed while he takes deep breaths, as if he’s trying to pull himself back together. Or maybe, maintain a level of self-control.

His green eyes open and find yours in apology.

“Sorry,” he says, pulling your hand out of his pants. “Just uh…not really in the mood.”

You lift up the covers and glance down at the half-pitched tent in his pants with a raised brow.

“You sure about that?” you ask.

He stays quiet, which starts to make you suspicious. You let the covers drop and rest a hand on his chest, where his heart beats at a ticked-up pace.

“It’s been over a month, baby,” you point out. “I know there’s…a lot going on, but this isn’t like you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m tired,” he claims.

You can understand that, to an extent, but intuition tells you that there’s something deeper here. Beyond the lack of intimacy, you’ve been starting to realize just how distant your boyfriend has been with you, even after getting him back from Michael.

Dean doesn’t…touch you anymore. And not just in this bed. As a matter of fact, him holding you right now is some of the closest affection he’s given you in days.

Despite that thought, he actually surprises you by covering your hand on his chest and squeezing your fingers. Likely he’s seen the disappointment and concern across your face.

“Come on. You think I only want you around for sex?” he jokes. It gets you to smile, however slightly.

“Call it a perk of this little arrangement,” you say in a dry tone. 

“Ooh, an arrangement. Sounds kinky,” he quips, with a curve of his lips. 

You smirk and take back your hand from under his. Carding your fingers through his hair, you dip down and start to kiss his neck. 

“I miss you,” you whisper against his warm skin. “But I also want to help you take your mind off it all… Just let me distract you for a while.” 

His eyes briefly close as he lets out a shaky breath, but he stops you for real this time. He holds your cheek and guides you away. His rejection hurts, making your chest sting, but his eyes implore you to let him explain.

“That’s just it,” he says. “I can’t. I can’t risk it.”

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t lose control,” Dean says. His tone is laced with grit and strain. “Michael’s in there, rattling around. He’s either pacing all damn day, or pounding on the walls.”

Dean presses a hand between his eyes, as if that’ll stop the headache that’s already forming. It’s bad enough that the archangel was controlling him for so long, rooting deep in his head and opening every door and shady corner. Thoughts, memories, private moments.

Now, Dean doesn’t know how much Michael sees of the outside world. It’s another reason he’d rather not heed every desire he has to roll you underneath his body and fuck you deep into the mattress. It’s why he hasn’t let himself touch you as often as he wants, as he craves.

Because the truth is, he’s scared. Scared of what might happen if he gets too distracted.

“Sometimes I think I’m gonna lose my fucking mind,” he admits to you, his throat tightening.

He glances back up at you, and finds you weeping. Your lower lip trembles. Guilt hits Dean harder between the ribs when he realizes what he’s been putting you through. What he’s still putting you through. He cups your cheek and wipes away a stray tear.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says.

You shake your head. “It’s not just that we can’t…it’s that I can’t help you,” you reply, with a tremble in your voice. “I can’t do anything.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say to you, but he knows what he can do. He wraps his arms more securely around you and pulls you against him. You rest your forehead in the crook of his neck and try to calm yourself by taking long, even breaths.

“I wish I could take this from you,” you confess.

He sighs. “I don’t.”

The next morning, Sam and Dean catch a lead on a fellow hunter who was killed by a supernatural artifacts dealer. They mean to track down the dealer.

Instead of going with them, you stay at the bunker and continue to research a way to extract and capture an archangel from a human host. 

Dean doesn’t question your decision; he’s grateful, but still feeling guilty about last night. And part of him doesn’t even know how to move forward with you right now. 

It’s just as well, because you’re not too sure of how to act around Dean either. Your heart breaks every time you look at him, and it was hard to even meet his eyes at breakfast this morning.

Mary is on a hunt nearby as well, but you don’t have the heart to join her when she calls you around noon. After you hang up with her, you realize that you’re feeling sorry for yourself, when the one who’s really suffering is Dean.

For a moment, you take a break from the old book in front of you. Your back is twinging from being hunched over in your research for hours on end in the library. You rub your eyes and let out a sigh, before you lift your gaze heavenward. You doubt your grandmother can hear you up there while she relives her greatest hits, but at this point, you’ll try anything.

Please, you think in Spanish, and even pray. Give me strength. Give him strength.

Sam and Dean return to the bunker after “taking care” of the scumbag dealer. They bring back a number of artifacts, which you’ll have to help them sort through. They pile it all onto the War Room table. 

But they show you one item in particular: the Baozhu, one of eight ancient Chinese treasures. In other words, it’s a pearl that grants your heart’s desire.

Now, in general, you tend to be wary about hoodoo, but Sam has already convinced Dean that it could work. He could wish Michael gone.

They’re both so earnest that you’re willing to go along with it…and let Dean give it a try.

“Are you sure you don’t want to call Mom?” Sam asks him. “Or wait for Cas?”

“No,” Dean replies. “If this mojo works, great. If it doesn’t, then why get their hopes up?”

You agree with that point. In fact, you almost wish you could be Mary or Castiel right now.

Dean notes the look on your face, and he knows you well enough to read what you might be thinking. He turns his attention back to the pearl with determination.

He takes the pouch from Sam’s hand and doesn’t know what to do with it at first, but after little coaching from Sam, Dean takes the pearl in his hand, closes his eyes, and concentrates on his “heart’s desire.”

Michael outta my friggin’ head, he thinks.

The lights in the bunker start to flicker. You and Sam look up in wariness as the magic from the wish knocks out the electricity for a moment, casting the room into darkness mixed with a red glow from the emergency lights.

Sam turns when he spots a shrouded figure out of the corner of his eye—almost as tall as him, a large threatening frame. Sam swings a punch, but the intruder bats at his stomach, then his face with what looks like a crowbar. He goes down hard.

Just as you turn your head, Dean steps in next and gets an elbow to the chin for his trouble, then a swift kick in the stomach that sends him across the room with Sam. The intruder wracks his crowbar, which as it turns out, is actually a shotgun.

“Don’t you move,” he says.

He must not have seen you in the dark. It gives you the opportunity to come up behind him with one of the emergency handguns Dean had taped under the table for exactly this purpose. You tuck the safety back with a click.

“Drop it,” you demand.

The man pauses. He knows you’re there, but he doesn’t yet lower his weapon.

And the lights come back on.

Sam and Dean’s eyes widen when they realize who they’re faced with.  

“Dad?” Dean says incredulously.

John Winchester is just as confused to be in the bunker as his sons are to see him alive, and in the bunker. For John, he thinks it’s 2003. Sam should be at school in Palo Alto, while John’s been hunting with Dean.

John is understandably shocked when Sam tells him that sixteen years have passed.

“I think we summoned you,” Sam says, after he and Dean pick themselves up from the ground.

John takes a beat to try and process, but he has too many questions.

“You boys better tell me what’s going on right now,” he says. Though he turns and notices you after you slip your gun back into the waistband of your jeans and draw closer to Dean, laying a hand on his arm. A subtle look passes between you two.

You good? yours says.

I think so, Dean’s replies. The exchange doesn’t go unnoticed.

“And you are?” John asks. His gaze is focused on you, and the directness of his tone somewhat takes you by surprise. You never thought you would meet John Winchester.

But after you tell him your name, Dean rests a hand at the small of your back.

“She’s my girlfriend,” he says.

Intrigue sparks in John’s eyes, and he nods in response. His mind is probably buzzing with too much information to levy any kind of politeness your way, but it still leaves a tense, awkward atmosphere in its wake.

Sam tries to bridge it by suggesting you all sit at the long table in the War Room to go over what John’s missed. He agrees, though he requests a strong drink first.

Explaining what’s really happening to the older, yet still incredibly spry hunter takes a while. You all do it with a bottle of Jack Daniels split four ways.

“So, you saved the world?” John asks. His whiskey glass is in his hands, and he raises a finger in a “So you mean to tell me” gesture.

“More than once,” Dean admits.

“Then it’s all true. God, the Devil, you boys smack in the middle,” John says. You can see him working through all this, but also with fatherly pride coming through. It would make you smile, if this situation wasn’t so goddamn weird.

“Now you all live in a secret bunker with an angel and Lucifer’s kid,” he continues, and this time, he includes you in his gaze. All you can do is nod with a feeble smile.

Sam and Dean also confirm his summary.

“And you’ve done this whole…time travel thing before?” he asks.

“A few times,” Dean nods. “Actually, our grandfather, your dad…he’s the one that helped us find this place. I think he’d be real happy to know you’re finally here.”

Dean has told you about Henry Winchester, and how John had thought the man abandoned him when he was a child. But now, he seems to understand.

“Right, Man a’ Letters,” he nods.

“Yeah, we’re uh, we’re legacies,” Sam says, giving his father a smile. “Because of you.”

John has to smile back.

The three of them continue to talk for a while, and you mostly keep to yourself. Truth be told, you’re feeling a bit out of place in this moment.

The John you’ve heard stories about is a gruff ex-marine with a “give ‘em hell” attitude. This man has a solid presence, and a gruff voice not unlike Dean’s, but all you see in him is both pride and wonder at everything his sons are telling him about this world he’s been thrust into.

After a little while more, Sam realizes he needs to call someone immediately: his mother.

John’s face falls into shock.

“Mary?” he says. His disbelieving eyes become tinged with hope. “She’s…she’s alive?”

Dean shares a quick look with Sam, who heads out of the room quick to find his phone.

“Yeah, Dad. It’s a long story, but uh…she’s back too,” Dean says, smiling. “Wait ‘til she sees you.”

John’s brows furrow. He looks down at his hands on the table, fighting emotion. You can’t help but feel for him. You notice the empty bottle of whiskey, and without meaning to, you fall into “caretaker mode.”

“Uh, John, you want some water? Or maybe a beer?” you ask, as you start to get up from your seat. Dean looks up at you with a measure of bemusement.

“Beer would be good, thanks,” John says, giving you a small, but sincere smile. Somehow that unbalances you even more, though you smile back.

“Okay, and while I’m at it I think I’d better start dinner,” you say. Mary doesn’t cook, really. Sam is a lost cause too. (The man can barely boil an egg.) So it’s often up to you and Dean to handle the food in this house…bunker…whatever.

Dean disrupts your thoughts by grasping your hand, hoping it’ll steady you.

“You don’t have to, baby,” he says. You perk up with a more genuine smile.

“Oh, I want to! Besides, you guys should keep talking. Catch up,” you say, gesturing between father and son. You squeeze Dean’s hand, then make your quick escape.  

Dean smirks and watches you go. John follows his son’s gaze, then looks back at him in amusement. 

“She a good cook?” he asks. 

Dean raises his brows. “Oh, just you wait. She makes this beef stew thing, ropa vieja? Ridiculous. And a pork roast like you wouldn’t friggin’ believe.”

John chuckles. “Latina, huh?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Dean grins.  

“Nice,” his father nods with another short laugh. But it evens out into a certain smile. “How long’ve you two been together?”

Dean mentally counts it back. You often calculate it from the first time he officially asked you out for a nice dinner here in town. He likes to count it from that very first night he finally got a taste of your sweet café con leche…in more ways than one.

“Two years and some change. Almost three,” he says. John gives a low whistle.

“Look at you,” he remarks. And he seems pleased, with a gleam in his eyes that warms Dean deep inside. “Good for you, son. Glad to see you’ve got someone to hold you down.”

Dean sobers at that. He glances down at his empty glass of whiskey.

“Yeah,” he says. “You don’t know how much.”

It’s a good thing you went grocery shopping yesterday, or else you’d be shit out of luck trying to put something together for dinner. There happened to be a sale going on in the seafood section, so you find that you have everything you need to make a Spanish paella.

You get to chopping the onions, bell peppers, garlic, tomato, and parsley first before anything else. While that starts sautéing in the pan, you break out the chicken, shrimp, and mussels from their individually wrapped packages.

You continue according to the recipe you have in your mind’s eye—the one your grandma instilled in you. She’d learned it from her half-Spanish mother when she was a kid.

Cooking is one of those things that allows you to reset your mind. It’s like how Dean is when he sits down to tune up his car, or Sam when he reads a new book. You can just zero in and focus on the task at hand, and it allows you to put the rest of the chaos out of your head for a while. Plus, you just like feeding people.

Sometimes though, the task of whipping up a hot meal just gives you time to think. And right about now, you’re still reeling.

On one hand, you’re so happy for Sam and Dean. And of course for Mary, who’s about to get her entire world flipped upside down. You have so many questions for John Winchester…but not all of them would be pleasant.

You have to try to push that part down, for Dean’s sake. He’s just gotten his father back. He doesn’t need you adding even more onto his load.

There’s a knock on the open door of the kitchen that pulls you out of your thoughts. You raise your head and look over your shoulder. John is there with an empty beer bottle, which he raises in greeting.

You give him a small smile. “Hope you’re getting hungry.”

“With that smell, who wouldn’t?” he says, drawing near enough to lean against the counter next to you. He answers your unspoken question. “Dean’s lookin’ for some pictures to show me.”

You nod at that. “Yeah, he has a few good ones, and some are new. I’m sure you’ll like to see them.”

John nods and regards you with curiosity. He wants to know more about the woman in his son’s life, but he’s not too sure where to start.

“So you’re a hunter too?” he asks.

“Yep. Not for as long as Dean, but long enough,” you reply. It’s tinged with the knowledge that no hunter should’ve been as young as Dean when they started, but you keep that thought deep inside.

“How’d you two meet?” John asks.

Your lips twitch at a smile. You tell him the story of how you’d met Dean at a dirty bar in Las Cruces, New Mexico. Dean hadn’t realized you were a hunter at first when he watched you hustle some guy at pool.

He set you in his sights, flirted with you, and you probably would’ve let him take it further if you hadn’t stunned him with the knowledge that you, Sam, and Dean happened to be in town working the same case. From that day on, the three of you had become allies and friends.

You and Dean just hadn’t become you and Dean for a long time after that. Too long, if you were honest. But, it’s all worked out so far. This is the longest relationship both of you have been in, pretty much ever.

There’s a lull of silence that falls between you and John after you finish the story. It’s not altogether comfortable, and he realizes that when he watches you putter about the kitchen while you cook. You’re trying to busy yourself.

“This must be one hell of a strange day for you,” he says.

Your head perks up, and you have to smile wryly. “Our lives are built on strange.”

John’s chuckle concedes your point. But you look over at him thoughtfully and set down your wooden spoon.

“Could I, um…could I ask you something?” you ask.

He nods at you. “Sure.”

Maybe you shouldn’t, but you really can’t help yourself.

“We don’t know each other well,” you begin. “But, knowing what you know now, about Sam and Dean and everything they’ve gone through… If you could go back, would you change anything?”

John tilts his head at you, like he’s trying to read through the lines in your words. It reminds you of Sam.

“You mean, would I do things differently?” he asks. “From what point?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. From the point in time you can remember, with Sam in college. Or maybe further back…from when they were kids.”

You try your best not to make it sound like a leading question, but you don’t think you’ve disguised it well enough. John stares back at you, as if the lines are now connecting in his mind.

He sees you're well-meaning. Despite your best efforts though, he knows you're accusing him of something. And he thinks you have some audacity.

He's somehow both taken aback, and amused by that fact. Trust Dean to be with a woman who goes for the jugular.

“Because you’ve been straight shootin’ with me, I guess I’ll shoot straight with you,” John replies. He sighs and wipes a hand over his bearded mouth, like you’ve seen Dean do at times when he’s tired, or anxious.

“A good part of me believes I did the best I could,” he says.

Your gaze falls; you don’t want him to see your real thoughts in your eyes.

“But,” he says, “If you're asking if I have regrets? ...Then you'd be right.”

You consider him then, for a moment. You find that you believe him. You begin to soften.

“Well, that’s something we have in common,” you reply. “But Sam and Dean are the best men I’ve ever known… So thank you.”

And you mean that. You are grateful for both of them. They became your family when you thought you had no one left.

John surprises you by shaking his head, smiling. “That’s what I wanted to say to you.”

You falter at that.

Me? you think. Why would he want to thank me?

Before you can truly digest his words, Dean comes into the kitchen, both to check on you and bring his dad the pictures he keeps in his nightstand. While he looks through them, John surreptitiously watches you and his son. 

Dean sidles up behind you and rests a hand along your hip. He peeks over your shoulder at what you’re cooking. You open the lid on the big pan of rice, chicken, and seafood, and he hums in delight at the smell of saffron that hits him.

“What’s that, paella?” he asks.

You give him an impressed look. “Very good. Here, it’s not quite ready yet, but try a bit.”

You put a shrimp and a bit of rice on the wooden spoon and raise it to his lips. Dean smiles and takes the proffered bite. He then moans in appreciation.

“Oh, that’s good,” he praises with his mouth full. “A bit spicy.”

“You like that though,” you tease.

Dean eyes you, and he chuckles. “Yeah, I do actually.”

John smiles to himself, both at the pictures of his boys throughout the years he missed, and at the glimpse he gets to see now.

You turn to him with another spoonful held out. “Want to try some, John?”

He obliges you by coming over and taking the spoon from your hand. He takes the bite, and his brows shoot up.

“Oh man, that’s got some kick to it,” he says.

“Too much?” you ask.

“Nah, it’s real good.”

Dean grins, but it soon dims as he realizes something.

“Ooh, what about dessert?” he says, rubbing his hands together. “Do we have anything?”

“Nope,” you reply. “Either we pick something up, or…I could make a flan.”

Dean’s grin kicks back in, full force. If there's one thing he's come to love in this world besides pie, it's your flan.

“But! For that I’ll need more ingredients,” you say, holding down a laugh at the look on your man’s face.

“Say no more,” he replies. “I’ll go on a grocery run. Just tell me what you need.”

You’re about to respond when a door creaks open down the hall. Mary hastens into the kitchen with Sam on her heels. When she sees her husband, her face falls into shock.

“John,” she breathes.

John's amusement gradually melts away, into watery-eyed emotion.

“My girl,” he says.

The two meet each other in the middle of the room. He holds her face, and she grips the front of his shirt with desperation. Their kiss is beautiful and tender…and then it’s more.

You and Dean share a wide-eyed look with Sam. The three of you quickly tip out of the room to the sounds of soft moans in your wake.  

“Wow. I mean, this is crazy right?” Dean says. He gesticulates wildly with his hands as the three of you make your way down the hall. “The way they just…connected, like magnets.”

You turn to him with a knowing smile.

“Your parents are about to have a lot of reunion sex,” you tease. 

Both Sam and Dean grimace. Dean has a full body shiver and gives you a look.

“Thank you for that,” he says wryly. 

You laugh and try to soothe him with a hand down his arm, but he playfully shakes his head at you. You have mercy on the brothers and manage to stifle your laughter.

“Okay, so, dessert,” you say.

“Well, since you’re so graciously being our chef for tonight, you just relax,” Dean says. “Sam and I’ll go make a run. You just tell me what you need.”

You pause in the hallway and give a hum of suspicion. You’re not sure you trust him to get the right stuff. The last time you asked him to get very specific ingredients from the store, he did not, in fact, bring you what you needed. (Somehow, he thought regular garlic powder was the same as Adobo seasoning.)

He clocks that look of yours and rolls his eyes. “Come on, really? What am I, five years old? Just give me a list.”

You relent with a sigh. “Okay, I’ll text it to you. But if you need me to send you pictures of anything, just let me know.”

Dean’s lips kick up into a smirk. He leans in for a parting kiss on your cheek, but it’s just an excuse to whisper in your ear.

“Well, I’ll never say no to some pics,” he says. “Nudes, preferably.” 

He then laughs at your rosy blush and raised brows. Now you know he’s in a better mood.

“Just hurry up,” you reply, shaking your head. He keeps chuckling as he passes by you. A smile curves your lips, and you give into the urge to smack his ass on his way up the stairs.

Sam just sighs in amused resignation. He raises a hand to you in goodbye and follows his brother up to the garage. 

Once they’re in the car, Sam finally unloads what he’s been holding onto all afternoon.

“Dean, how did this happen?”

“I mean, I don’t know. You said that the pearl gives you what your heart desires, right?” Dean says. “So, my heart desired… Look, I’ve wanted this, man. I’ve wanted this since I was four years old. Maybe having Mom back just brought it all back up.”

He’s not exactly sure how deep that “desire” was buried, but the pearl knew. Dean couldn’t believe how happy he was when he saw his dad again, got to tell him everything that he’d missed, getting to have him meet you. And seeing his dad with his mom again? Well, that was a child’s dream come true.

But Debbie Downer (AKA: his brother) looks concerned in the passenger seat.

“Okay, I know, and I love this too,” Sam says. “But messing with time—”

“No, no, no. Sam,” Dean says, raising a hand in protest as he drives.

“You know how this ends, Dean. Things change,” Sam tries to reason. Dean just shakes his head.

“Yeah, we got our family back together! I’ll take that change.”

“That’s not what I mean—”

“Stop. Just stop,” Dean says, in a tone that bodes no argument. “Look, can we just have one family dinner? Just one? Us—all of us together? That’s all I want. Can you just give me that?”

Sam’s lips purse. He knows it’s useless to argue with Dean when he gets like this, but Sam just can’t help the uneasy churning in his gut. It warns him that the other shoe has yet to drop on this spell.

You’re checking on the food when Sam and Dean return from their trip. Except the way they come storming into the kitchen has you turning to them in alarm.

Dean grasps your arms and searches your face. His face is marred by fresh cuts and a bruise or two.

“You feeling all right?” he asks. “Do you think Sam is a turtleneck-wearing douchebag?”

“Dean, what?” you utter. You touch his bruised cheek lightly, wincing in sympathy when he does out of pain. “What happened?”

True to Sam’s gut, the wish changed more than bringing John Winchester back from 2003. They explain what they went through after getting the groceries you requested—namely getting attacked by Castiel and Zachariah at the local liquor store.

The latter of the two angels was supposed to be dead, while the other had no recollection of being friends with the Winchesters. Sam was supposed to be a hot-shot Steve Jobs wannabe lawyer, while Dean had his mugshot plastered all over town.

“I think it’s…a temporal paradox,” Sam says.

Now, you’re very alarmed.

“Are you kidding me?! What the hell are we gonna do?” you exclaim.

“About what?” John asks from the doorway. He’s no longer wearing his jacket, you notice, and his shirt is looking a bit rumpled and hastily buttoned at the top, but his gaze is serious, matching his sons.

After sharing another telling look, Dean takes the responsibility of explaining the situation to his father, while Sam goes to find his mother.

Dean and John go into the library to talk. He explains that pulling John out of his time is now making the current timeline self-correct. Meaning, everything and everyone is gradually adjusting to the change.

“Basically, uh, if you don’t go back,” Dean says. He hesitates on the words, but he forces himself to continue. “Sam never gets back into the life. And Mom, she…”

“What?” John asks.

“Well, without everything that we did, with God, the Darkness, Mom never comes back,” Dean explains, even though it’s killing him inside. “Sam thinks that she’ll just fade away.”

It hurts him still to see the understanding don on his dad’s face, along with a smile of resignation.

“Okay,” John agrees. “I mean, me versus your mom? That’s not even a choice.”

Dean nods at that, however belatedly.

“Dean…I never meant for this,” John says.

“Dad, we pulled you here—”

“No, son. My fight,” he says. He still thinks about his conversation with you earlier today. He thinks about how protective you seemed just by that question you asked—not just protective of Dean, but of Sam too.

“It was supposed to end with me, with Yellow Eyes,” John explains. “But now, you’re a grown man, and I am incredibly proud of you.”

Dean takes that in; he feels a rush of warmth deep in his heart, even though he doesn’t know what to say.

“You and your girl…you two planning on settling down someday? Having a family?” John asks.

Dean quirks a smile. You two haven’t talk about…that. Any of that. In between all the shit you all keep landing in, he’s somehow never had those conversations with you. Maybe he should.

But not now. Not until Michael’s gone and dealt with.

“I don’t know if we’re the settling type, but either way…I have a family,” Dean replies. He can say that honestly, with a soft smile that reaches his eyes.

John smiles back.

“All right,” he says. “Just think about it then.”

Dean once again finds you in the kitchen. You’ve gotten the plates, glasses, and silverware ready for dinner on the dining table.

“Hey, there’s only four plates on the table. We’re five,” Dean says.

You nod and close the oven back up. You’ve spent the past hour preparing the flan and just took it out of the oven. Hopefully it will have enough time to chill in the fridge.

You go to Dean and grasp the front of his gray flannel. In return, he holds you close by your arms.

“Listen, I thought it might be better if the four of you have dinner together. I’ll just eat here in the kitchen,” you say. Dean’s brows furrow, but you try to explain before he can start protesting. “You don’t have a lot of time left with your dad. This is the first time you’re getting to be together with your family like this. I just want to make sure you get the most out of it.”

Dean squeezes your arms and frowns down at you.

“You being there doesn’t take anything away from me being with them,” he says sternly. “And you’re part of my family. Part of our family. I’m not gonna have you eating in here by yourself like you’re a leper or something. Come on.”

He grabs your plate and the glass that you set aside on the counter, and he brings it to the table without letting you get a word in to stop him. You sigh, watching him go, but you also have to smile as the sting of tears burns in your eyes.

Dinner is awkward and dour at first. You all can’t help but think of what’s to come at the end of the night—ending the spell, and sending John back along with it.

But after John sets the tone, encouraging them to be grateful for this moment, and not dreading the inevitable end, everyone’s able to relax. The rest goes off without a hitch. 

While Sam and Dean are telling a childhood story, arguing about who’s version of the events were more accurate, you get up to grab the dessert from the fridge. 

You take out the pan of flan with both hands and go to bring it back to the table, but right in the doorway, you stumble to a stop as a wave of something washes over you. It prickles across your skin and feels a lot like magic.

The pan drops from between your hands and crashes to the floor. It startles everyone in the room.  

Dean calls your name in alarm. He’s the closest to you, and he gets up to steady you with a hand on your shoulder. 

“You okay?” he asks, trying to get you to meet his gaze. 

But when you do, he sees blankness behind your widened eyes. 

“Who are you?” you ask. You look around in both fear and confusion. “Where the hell am I?”

Dean’s throat constricts. "What do you mean? You live here. I'm..."

He searches your face for any hint of a joke, but he finds none. Trepidation grows inside him, and he realizes then what this is.

Another temporal shift, getting closer to the new timeline. One in which you and Dean are clearly strangers.

Somehow, he didn’t anticipate this.

“You don’t recognize me, do you?” he says.

Your brows furrow as you take in the man in front of you. He’s certainly a sight to see, you think, but those broad shoulders, the cut of his jaw, those green eyes…they’re unfamiliar to you.

“Sorry, but…I feel like I’d remember you,” you say with a nervous chuckle. “Have we worked together or something?”

Dean’s lips press together. He gives you a meaningful look. “Sweetheart, we’ve done a lot more than that.”

Your brows raise, and you blush hotly at the thinly veiled innuendo in his deep voice. You take another quick scan of him, which he notes with a smile.

“Yeah, I uh, I doubt that,” you say, which drops his smile again. You curl a strand of hair behind your ear, like you’re embarrassed just by him scrutinizing your curvy form. Like you can’t believe he’s basically flirting with you.

That’s not the woman he knows. 

“Listen, I’m sorry, but I don’t know you. I have to figure out where the hell I am and how to get home,” you say. And you ease out of his hold and back away. 

Dean grabs your hand fast. “Uh, wait. Sorry, just…”

He raises a placating hand and glances back at Sam with a hidden thread of desperation in his eyes. His brother is shocked and disheartened, as are Mary and John.

“Okay. I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam, our parents, Mary and John,” Dean says, turning back to you. “I know this has gotta be weird as hell for you right now, but can you just…stay put for a bit, until I get this worked out?”

You give him an uneasy look. He’s holding your hand like he’s afraid to let you go. You don’t know this man at all, and yet he really seems to believe that he knows you. It doesn’t make any damn sense.

You shake your head. “Look, I have to go home.”

You try tugging your hand out of his, and Dean finally lets you go.

“Why, you got a boyfriend waiting or something?” he asks. He’s half teasing, and half serious. 

“No, um, family,” you admit. “My grandma’s probably waiting for me.” 

Dean’s expression slackens. In the right version of the timeline, you’re his girl. But your grandmother passed away a few years ago.

“Okay,” he wipes at his mouth with a hand. “Tell you what, it’s pretty late. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Deal?”

The truth is, he has no intention of letting you go any-damn-where, but he needs to buy them some time to break this spell. Then you’ll be back to normal.

Right now, you’re reluctant to trust him. Eventually though, you nod in agreement. Dean wastes no time in bringing you to the War Room, where he encourages you to take a seat.

“I’ll be back in a few,” he promises.

You nod a bit hesitantly, as you still treat him with dubious suspicion. It breaks his heart. He forces himself to turn away from you and return to the dining room.

Part of you can’t help but watch him leave. Those long legs and broad shoulders are a sight, you can admit, but this is all too much for you. You further take in your surroundings and also think this place is strange. No windows…what, are we in some WWII bunker?

And yet, Señor Green Eyes claimed that you live here. Your car, your keys, it all must still be here, you reason. 

So you wait until he’s all the way down the hall, and disappearing into another room. You get up out of your seat and start looking for your stuff—and a way out of here.

Meanwhile, Dean goes back into the dining room where Mary is already crying in John’s arms: for her eldest son, for her youngest, for her husband, and for herself. Dean’s eyes are red and stinging too. 

By now, Sam has gotten up from the table and has been waiting for his brother. He lays a supportive hand on Dean’s shoulder. When Dean meets his brother’s gaze, he sees the shine of heartbreak there too. 

“Let’s get this done,” John says.

Saying goodbye is the hardest thing. 

Somehow, though, they get through it. Dean reflects on how he never got to say it to his father the first time. He feels the worst for his mom, who gets her husband ripped away from her.

It’s not fair. In fact, it’s a cruel turn of the knife that he should’ve expected. Dean feels guilty just for making this goddamn wish.

John says goodbye to his wife first, then his sons. He pulls them both into a hug that Dean clings to. Again, he hears his father say that he’s proud of him and his brother. Dean hears him say that he loves them. 

“I love you too,” are the only words Dean can manage out, in a coarse whisper. 

But Sam is the one who has to make things right. He crushes the pearl. John slowly disappears in a haze of golden light. Tracks of tears are wet on all of their faces, but Dean is the first one who has to lock it all away. 

He remembers that you’re still waiting in the other room. 

Wiping at his eyes, he leaves Sam to comfort their mother and hurries out there, to the room where Dean left you…only to find your chair empty. 

A tendril of panic churns in his gut, but he has to remind himself that they’ve set things right. Even if you’ve run off, you can’t have gone far. 

He calls your name as he heads for the door to the garage. He picks up his keys and his phone to call you, but he stops at the foot of the stairs.

He sees you at the top of them, having dropped your duffel bag at your feet. Your name falls from his lips again.

You turn around and hold a hand to your head, with your brows furrowed in discomfort. Your gaze travels down to his.

“Dean?” you call out.

You head down the stairs, and Dean meets you there at the bottom. He pulls you into a tight, desperate hug. His hand comes up to cup the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. Even though you’re still a bit confused, you hold him back to reassure him, and to steady yourself. 

“What happened?” you ask.

“We reversed the spell,” he confesses, after he finds his voice. “Had to send him back.”

Your hold becomes more comforting as your hand slides up the back of his neck. 

“Oh, baby. I’m sorry,” you whisper. You card your fingers through his hair. His hold on you tightens even more. You feel his deep, shuddering breaths. He’s trying to contain it all, to push it down. You wish he would allow himself to let it out. 

He presses his lips into your neck instead. 

“You okay?” he asks. Your cheek brushes his when you nod. 

“I’m fine, but…” You pull back enough to see his face. “Did I…forget you? Everyone?”

Dean’s lips press together.

“For a minute there,” he says, “but we got it all worked out.”

You let out a shaky sigh, and you tug him back into a warm hug that you both need. 

Mary prefers to be alone that night. You understand it, but you still apologize and give her a heartfelt embrace in the hallway outside her room. 

It takes her a moment, but she returns it. You start to realize that Winchesters are not a touchy-feely bunch by design. You can’t help yours though; you’re affectionate by nature. You just hope you haven’t overstepped.

Mary gives you a small, teary smile when you eventually pull away. She squeezes your hand before she says goodnight to you and her sons. 

You give Sam a parting hug as well. He rubs your back in a brotherly gesture. 

“Sorry about the whole temporary amnesia thing,” you quip. 

Sam shakes his head with a smile. “Just glad to have you back.”

After he lets you go, Dean thumps his brother on the back. He then heads down the hall without a word.

You and Sam share a look, in which you give him an unspoken promise: I’ll take care of him.

You follow after Dean, who trekked a well-worn path to your shared bedroom. He’s already at the sink, splashing water on his face. After drying himself with a small towel, he sighs and rests his hands on the corners of the sink.

After closing the bedroom door, you go over and slip your arms around him from behind. 

You rest your head against his back, and you both take in some deep breaths. Dean clasps a hand over yours on his chest. 

“I’m okay,” he says. 

“No, you’re not,” you tell him. “And that’s okay.”

Dean stays quiet. For a beat, he closes his eyes. He’s grateful for you. He’s still not sure why you put up with all the hellish shit that surrounds his life.

He turns in your arms so he can cup your cheek, smoothing his thumb across your skin. 

“You know how much I love you right now?” he says, even though his deep voice cracks. Tears well up in your eyes, but you smile and you nod. 

“Yeah, I do,” you reply, resting a hand on his chest. “I love you back.” 

He frames your face with his hands and bows his head to kiss you. It’s fraught and devouring, and a bit greedy. You’re willing to give him whatever he needs right now, especially when his hands slip under your shirt and raise it over your head with practiced ease. In turn, you help him shrug out of the flannel and everything else.

You seat him down on the edge of the bed and stroke his face, his neck, his bare shoulders. His fingers press into your thick thighs as he encourages you to climb aboard, straddling his hips.  

Michael still paces back and forth in his mind, but for now, Dean’s able to tune it out and focus on this moment, with you. 

AN: This ended up being another long one. Lots of angst and feels, but I sincerely hope you enjoy it! I had a lot of fun with this chapter of the Espresso-verse. 💜

Keep Reading:

Next up in this series is "In Bad Weather." It acts as the finale of the Espresso-verse, though I'm still writing stories within the world to fill in the gaps when different prompts come to mind:

Summary: You and Dean tackle the biggest possible monkey wrench in your relationship yet: could Chuck have been manipulating you two all along? [Set in S15 - “Fix It” for season finale]

▶️ Next Story: In Bad Weather

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

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[chil2de]

𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 — gorou.

— some nsfw hcs and a.... nsfw piece. of course.

— a/n: yup. quick post because i’m here to tell you why shiba boy is the best and u will listen to me. u are being hypnotised. stan gorou.

— tags: unprotected sex, breeding kinks, overstim, degradation, possessive gorou, pet name ‘puppy’ tho it’s used as mockery, dacryphilia, mentions of praise kinks n shit, love bites, mentions of choking, slight humiliation but nothing too extreme, semi-public / public sex

— POSSESSIVE. he is literally half dog???? hello?

— look at me. look me in the fucking eyes and tell me this man does not have a breeding kink. i dare you. no, come on. say it.

— oh you can’t? well guess what? it’s cause gorou just loves watching his cum spill out of you.

— service top but also a switch. say it louder for the people in the back.

— i could go into heavy detail ab how much gorou hates cockwarming. he thinks it’s the stupidest thing ever bc he’s impatient. i don’t think he can handle being teased LMFAO he will straight up just tell u to sit on his cock already.

— i feel like ….. gorou accidentally gives u bruises all over your body. he just gets so excited halfway through sex he can’t contain himself and it’s just? a show of his sheer strength? i think we are all forgetting that he is THE resistance general? he’s not gonna be weak despite having such a petite frame? (literally look at xiao lmao what)

— very needy. he told me so himself. i think gorou’s the type to creep up on you and start kissing ur neck in broad daylight, tail wagging and shit :( then he’s just. “what’s up? are you feeling unwell?” as though he is not trying to dick u down in an alleyway🤨.

— praise kink……. you will call him “my good boy” and just. wow. the switch in his demeanour is crazy. eyebrows knit and he fuckin whimpers like a little bitch because wow.

— he likes being choked. that is it. end of discussion. no i will not be taking any questions but feel free to elaborate.

— makeout sessions forever ruined bc gorou can’t keep his dick in his pants </3 can u imagine being able to fluster a damned resistance general. ?? why is nobody talking about how hot that is?

— ..what if ur the bad guy n ur whole army and shit are fighting gorou but….. behind closed doors you’re making his eyes roll into the back of his head?? he’s secretly meeting up w you just to rearrange your guts?

Gorou supposes there’s probably nothing worse for him to witness than the events that occurred this morning. There isn’t a single thing that he can think of that was more demeaning and downright humiliating.

Arataki Itto. Flirting with you.

One would have to be a fucking idiot to not know that you belong to the resistance general. You’re practically glued to his hip first and foremost, and if that weren’t enough? You literally have Gorou’s scent on you, every hour of the waking day. It’s the way you batted your pretty lashes up at Itto, humouring his idiosyncratic behaviour as though you actually gave a damn about what he was saying.

And the best part of it all? When Gorou speed walked to your aid, attempting to grab you out of the conversation before things got any more awkward and tense? You really hit Gorou, of all people, with the “Relax! We’re just talking, puppy.”

You certainly didn’t benefit Gorou’s case when his ears flattened as his face screwed, signature pout adorning his lips. And Itto, of course, instead of holding his laugh decided to just cackle outright at the pet name.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Gorou hums pleasantly, lilt evident as he glances at your pathetic state. You attempt to garble out something, but to no avail. Gorou hums in mock sympathy, hovering over your warm and sticky body to swipe up some of your excess drool. He dips his thumb back into your mouth, pulling down to reveal the start of your bottom teeth.

“Nope. Still can’t hear you. Try again for me?” He sneers, tone condescending. Gorou abruptly slams his cock right against your g-spot, tearing out his length before slamming back in to bottom out again. Your body jolts, pins and needles licking you from head to toe at how his blunt tip drags against your warm walls. It’s not like you could have answered regardless.

“Come on, puppy. Your sweet general doesn’t have all day, you know.” Gorou coaxes you once more, effortlessly curling your knees into your chest as he holds you into a mating press. He aims for your neck, leaning in as his lips attach to abuse your soft skin. Gorou’s trailed his love bites all over your body as though you’re a canvas. His canvas. You’re the general’s personal cocksleeve.

His soft hair and ears tickle you, piling onto your load of hypersensitivity. Your dainty wrists claw as you meekly try to grab ahold of Gorou’s clothes, wishing he’d finally take all of them off. Gorou’s cock has got you stirred up to the point where you can officially no longer form sentences.

“Aw. You’re crying? ‘S it cause my cock’s so big? You’ll be okay.” Gorou peppers a wet kiss to your forehead, deep voice thrumming in his throat as he chuckles. You’re sobbing fat tears because it’s humiliating. You are the only one who’s stark naked, hanging on by a non existent thread when your only salvation is half of Gorou’s smooth and toned torso peeking out at you. The general really does have his next shift to go to, yet he couldn’t help but at least try to fuck you straight in one of the storage warehouses. Every time you hear the impeding footsteps, Gorou only seems to grow more frustrated and pound into you with more fervour as though to drown out the excess static.

In the end, it’s an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. You humiliated the general, so he’ll get you back just as much.

reblog or i WILL punch you.

ATSUWH0RES 2021.

[where-is-francis]

Eddie Munson x Goth!NonBinary!Reader

Prompt: Eddie has slowly but surely become obsessed with your makeup routine. Now it’s time for him to join the fun.

Request: Yes but I already had it in the works. Just made me get it finished. For @sprizzaic

Pronouns: They/Them

A/N: I had this idea before but when I saw this post I knew I absolutely HAD to write something for it. The Eddie brainrot is real, he’s all I can think about. Also I’m aware that a lot of trad goth makeup used straight up white foundation but goth is for every complexion so you’re not wearing that in this fic. :)

TW: Nothing!

The sun was beating down in the summer heat of Hawkins as you sat in Eddie’s trailer. A cracked mirror before you presented your reflection; bare faced and fresh from the shower. Mixes of your clothes and his flooded the carpeted floor, only parting in certain instances to make a path. A smile passed your lips as you watched your boyfriend lazily strum his guitar, relaxing on the bed.

Both of you were excited for the night. Your plans consisted of going to a concert in Indianapolis, then grabbing some late night pizza, and crashing in the back of his van before driving back home in the morning. It wasn’t going to be cheap, but he always made it work for you.

Makeup sponges and wipes littered the small table you sat at, using some of Eddie’s (most likely) dirty shirts as a cushion. You began to start your makeup — although you never needed a reason like a concert to go out with black eyeshadow.

Your boyfriend’s gaze followed as you focused, messily applying some foundation. He usually wondered how you always seemed to know what you’re doing, just having a sense of where to put everything. Eddie moved his guitar to your side of the slightly-made bed and readjusted, his torso now near the footboard.

His reflection in the smudged mirror made you smile. “You act like you haven’t seen me do this about half a million times.”

“I know, but I like it. Seeing the process and everything.”

He smiled when you rolled your eyes, his hand slowly creeping up your back to make swirls and outlines in the wet hair that ran down your neck. You had been looking forward to the concert forever, and now it was finally time.

He watched as you focused on your makeup again, using your fingertips to pack on some gray and black eyeshadow. The dark colors in the sockets made the whites of your eyes seem a bit more vibrant. A familiar feeling of slightly rough skin reached the back of your neck as your partner moved the damp hair aside.

“Man, come on, I gotta look good for the concert. I gotta focus.” You laughed.

He smiled, stretching off the bed to rest his head against yours. You found his arms beginning to coil around your shoulders, like a snake slowly beginning to strangle its prey. But this was more genuine, more loving. Something about the way the sunlight hit your face during golden hour was like out of a painting. Through all of the excitement, it was still nice to have something peaceful.

“You always look good. So damn good. It’s, like, I’ve never seen somebody as good as you when it comes to all of this.” He mused to your reflection.

Despite the distraction of your wonderful ‘helper’, you continued on. A black liner pencil sketched out the design of your eyebrows before being filled with mascara to match; blending in the hair to make it seamless. You used the wedge to pick up some more color for the shadows in your cheeks. The way your pink tinted lips were practically begging for a quick peck, which was always a wish granted.

Time and practice had brought the skill of being ready in under half an hour. With the final touches, you took a last look at the now finished makeup.

A smile passed Eddie’s lips as he began kissing at your neck and jawline, making obnoxious kissing noises in your ear as he did so. Though a regular occurrence, you couldn’t help but laugh and take in the moment. Mixes of music and whatever Wayne had on the tv flooded your senses, along with the ever present hint of weed.

It was perfect.

Your boyfriend’s soft brown eyes began to glaze over in thought, his nose pushed into your neck.

“Eddie Munson, are you getting shy all of a sudden?” The taunt in your voice drove him crazy.

Instead, he just pulled away and returned to his spot on the unkempt bed. Said mattress groaned under the added weight as you climbed over top of the main occupant, straddling him in the process. Droplets of water ran down your shoulders, some falling on the sheets, others falling on Eddie.

His calloused fingers tangled in the damp waves of your hair as they hung over him. “You look beautiful,”

“Mhm, is that why you’re so shy all of a sudden?”

“I’m not shy.��

An overdrawn jet black eyebrow was raised at his statement, causing him to laugh. The sun emanated from behind your silhouette, making you look like the closest resemblance he’d ever seen to an angel. Sun streaks got caught in his eyes as he sat up, one hand on the small of your back as he did so.

If this is what angels looked like, maybe heaven wasn’t all that bad.

“Could you maybe… I mean — if you want — do something for me? I’ve never really… worn makeup before.”

He could’ve sworn your eyes became more vibrant in the moment.

“Of course,”

Your position over his lap didn’t change, save for grabbing the makeup. There wasn’t much, most of it looking beat to hell after continual uses over the year. In the city, you’d have to get more; Hawkins certainly didn’t have much — save for the Clinique counters in the mall.

Eddie tried not to grin as you began to started to work, even after telling him it would mess it up. Every product you used had him curious, asking what it was for.

“Are you doing the same look on me? Do I have to paint my face white? What about my eyebrows? Wait — you’re not going to shave them, are you?”

Needless to say, it was like trying to do face paint on a child at first. The longer it went on, he found himself melting into your words and touch. It was gentle and precise, like most other things you did. Influences from his own favorite bands gave you ideas in how to shape the liner.

He was completely in love.

How you commented on his bone structure and managed to make it sound like poetry, like something he could grow to love about himself. Sweet honey words mixed with music, filling his senses: an overdose on his partner.

“Does it look good?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Eddie stood as you moved, finding his way to the mirror and taking everything in. The inner corners of the liner trailed the sides of his nose in the resemblance of a crow, as the outer edges flicked in similarity to a bat wing. His eyebrows were more arched and precise, jet black to match, with a ring of gray smoke underneath. He was at a loss for words.

“Do you like it?”

Loud claps and a few fist pumps were the only response you got. His smile couldn’t be toned down — not around you. Your arms around him just made him smile more as he pressed his head against yours. The warm breaths fanned across your face. For what seemed like an eternity, a sensation of hope formed that he would say it.

“I love you. I love you, (Y/N) (L/N).” He pressed into your lips.

“I love you too, Eddie.”

Like my work? It means a lot. Reblogs instead of likes — it helps people find my work. I post male/enby reader content so check my blog for more. 💕