#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

[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.

LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO TAGLIST

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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!

[bullet-prooflove]

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.”

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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!

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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.

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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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[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.

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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 😭

[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 [fem aligned readers DNI]

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. 💕

[themand0lorian]

The Love You Deserve

Summary: The five times you and Marcus get burnt by love, and the one time you don’t.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating: R (Swearing, slightly spicy situations, mentions of abusive behavior)

Words: ~7400 (Read on AO3)

Tags: 5+1 Fic, friends to lovers, rumors (use of the word slut by high school girls), Marcus' first wife kinda sucking, Teresa, bad magic tricks, a focus on cards/card tricks, Marcus is a big dork

Notes: The third part of this fic includes an abusive relationship toward the reader (not Marcus). If you or someone you know is going through something like this, please feel free to message me for resources, call 800.799.SAFE (7233) in the US, or visit thehotline.org for text messages and chat resources.

If you need to skip that part/this fic, I’m sorry, and I hope one day you get to heal like this reader does. ❤️

The Five of Hearts

On the first day of kindergarten, your mother watched you jump up from your sandcastle and very angrily stomp up to a group of your classmates, all three-foot-four-inches of you fuming. She watched you berate two little boys and one little girl, ranting at them for being nasty and threatening to tell the teacher, before grabbing the hand of a shy little boy in a black cape with tears streaked down his face and dragging him over to the sandbox, sitting him unapologetically with you, straightening his cape with a scrunch of your face, and get back to building, waiting for him to join you expectantly. When he placed a stick in just the right spot, you both smiled, gap-toothed and crooked, and you asked him if he was a superhero; the only profession you knew which sported black silken capes.

Your mother would later say that was the moment she knew you and Marcus Pike were meant to be best friends.

Years had passed since that moment; Mrs. Pike had four consecutive school portraits containing that ratty old cape to prove it. Marcus was obsessed with magic, the two of you thick as thieves as The Marvelous Marcus put on paltry shows for the neighborhood where his white-tipped wand sprouted flowers or he sawed you—“his lovely assistant,” as he had heard the magicians on tv say--in half. After that day in kindergarten, he fully embraced his magical side, not caring what the other kids whispered or when his books were smacked from his hands as he walked down the hallways, as long as you were there to give them a glare and help him pick them back up again.

Still, though, by now the two of you were in high school—his cape had been hung up in favor of a varsity jacket, and the threat of the two of you separating for college, despite being inseparable for 13 years, was looming. Your friendship was still as strong as ever, but you both began to branch out, neighborhood magic shows not filling the time anymore. Marcus had the swim team, you each had your own separate groups of friends, but no matter what, when you were with him, it always felt like no time had passed. Like you were still in his backyard trying to figure out the intricacies of pulling a rabbit out of a hat, or laughing until your sides hurt after the school talent show when the bird he made appear flew into the rafters and the janitor had to chase it down with a broom. He was the magician, you were the assistant, but without the other, you were both useless.

He tried not to react when he heard some of the girls talking at his lunch table. The cafeteria was always bustling; he usually sat with the swim team, but many of them had girlfriends in the school who joined them, and they would gossip like the women at Nana Pike’s nursing home. Marcus sometimes thought about inviting you to sit with them too, but you seemed happy with the yearbook club, and he didn’t want to hear another one of his teammates talk about your ass.

“I heard she pounced on him in the school parking lot. All Drew this, Drew that, oh Drew,” one girl coos maliciously. The mention of Drew makes Marcus’ ears perk; the guy you were dating, an artsy type who wore trench coats on sunny days and wrote weird poetry at coffeehouses, was named Drew. He didn’t want to say anything—you were gushing the day he asked you to one of his poetry slams—but Marcus didn’t love Drew.

“Ew, tried to hit it in the school parking lot? What a slut,” another comments, nose upturned. “No wonder he broke up with her.”

“Sorry, who are you guys talking about?” Marcus interjects, ignoring a few of his teammates nervous glances as the girls mention your name.

“I heard she tried to have sex with him in the backseat of her car, and that’s why he dumped her.”

“Well I heard she was ‘interrupting his creative process.’”

“When did this happen?” Marcus cuts in again, mind spinning.

“Third period English class. Apparently he broke up with her in a poem, and he read it out loud to the class. Like in 10 Things I Hate About You, but—opposite,” one jokes, and Marcus has already stood, walking to throw out his unfinished lunch and out of the cafeteria, ignoring the girls’ shrill laughs and his team’s hoots and hollers. He hated Drew. He hated that Drew did this. He hated that you didn’t come find him when it happened.

But he knew where to find you.

There was a little cubby behind your set of lockers; not quite hidden away, but quiet, unused space. Kids sometimes sat there to finish late homework or wait for the bus, or to make out in private. But you liked to sit there to just think. To come up with a new yearbook spread or craft the perfect essay or to daydream.

Or, today, to crumple in on yourself in defeat.

Marcus approaches quietly, and you don’t look up from where your head rests on your knees, your arms hugging them tightly with your back against the wall. He knows you’ve been crying, been thinking and overthinking and thinking some more. When he sits across from you, his back leaning on the other wall, lanky knees he was still growing into pulled to his chest, his feet intertwine with yours, and he knows you know its him.

“Are you okay?” He tries gently. “No,” you sniffle, not looking up.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.” Marcus nods as you toy with the zipper on your backpack next to you, though you’re still not looking at him. He knows what those girls said wasn’t true; the stuff about the parking lot, anyway. The stuff about English class—that he believed.

“Do—do you wanna see a trick?” You peek up from your arms to see him pulling a deck of cards from his pocket. You watch suspiciously as he shuffles them, then fans them out to you. “Pick a card, any card,” he smirks, and you do, barely unfolding. “Look at it and put it back anywhere in the deck. You glance quickly; the five of hearts. After you place it back in the deck, he shuffles the cards again dramatically, and you roll your eyes, the start of a smile poking at your lips.

“Is this”--he flourishes a card into your face—“your card?”

It’s the ten of spades.

“No,” you offer sheepishly. Marcus quickly retreats the deck, looking through it, muttering to himself, and he finally hears it; a small chuckle out of you. “You’ve gotten bad at this.” He huffs.

“Well, I distracted you, didn’t I?” You nod, shrugging, though your head has still barely left your knees. You watch with wide eyes as Marcus reaches toward you, cupping your face to bring it out of hiding, and he blinds you with his grin.

“There she is,” he whispers, but before pulling his hand from your face, he flicks his wrist, and produces a card from behind your ear. “And there is your card.”

Jack of Clubs.

You shake your head, finally releasing a real laugh as he smacks the cards on his palm, as if they’re the issue. The two of you sit quietly, Marcus shuffling and reshuffling the deck the only noise in the space.

“I—I didn’t do anything in the parking lot, you know,” you offer quietly.

“I know.”

“He broke up with me in a poem.” Marcus snorts.

“I know. He sucks.” You glare at him, making eye contact, but after a moment, break, and the two of you begin to laugh.

“God, he does suck. Why was I even with him.” Marcus shrugs.

“Dunno. He didn’t deserve you.”

“Who does?” You roll your eyes sarcastically. Drew used to always say you were “too much;” surely anyone who deserved you would be a glutton for punishment. He thinks a moment before responding.

“Not sure. But one day, you’ll have the love you deserve. And you’ll think about this and laugh.” You both sit quietly, his words fully sinking in; the wisdom of a sage in a 18-year-old. The bell ringing, signaling next period, startles you both, and you let Marcus pull you to your feet. “C’mon. Mr. Hansen hates when you’re late.” You shake your head, walking with Marcus to Mr. Hansen’s class (right on time) before he continues to his class.

When you open your geometry notebook, the five of hearts sits tucked between the pages.

The Four of Hearts

You both tried to keep in touch when you went off to school. Marcus went to UT, a full swimming scholarship in hand and with a plan to major in art history. You, on the other hand, were ready to get out of your tiny Texas town; Marcus celebrated with you when you got accepted to American University all the way in Washington, DC, watching as you drove off in your dad’s packed station wagon, waving down the street until you turned the corner.

It started with the best intentions. Plans to chat on the payphone at the end of the hall weekly turned into monthly, turned into semesterly, racing to fill each other in before you ran out of quarters. You told Marcus about your crazy roommate and how hard your classes were; he told you all about Rachel.

Rachel was in his first art history class. Rachel made him laugh with a pun about Picasso. Rachel agreed to go on a date with him. Rachel wanted him to call her on the dorm phone, and he was almost out of quarters. Rachel was perfect.

You knew it was only a matter of time before Marcus and Rachel became an item. 1500 miles away, there wasn’t much you could do to stop it. Besides, you were happy for Marcus. He never dated in high school, still stuck with his nerdy, magician label even when his beard grew in patchy and he sprouted six inches overnight. Girls weren’t exactly falling over themselves for him, and he didn’t seem to really mind, content to just live his life.

But now, his life was Rachel.

She came home for Thanksgiving. He went to her family for winter break. She convinced him to switch to a more “sensible” major, criminal justice. He bought a ring.

She said yes.

The two were fresh out of college, buying a house and shopping for a white dress, playing grown-ups. Marcus, of course, was all in. You remember when he called to tell you—you were at work, staying late to meet a big deadline. He called you three times that week; the first two, you had blown off, desperate to finish this project and hopefully move from intern to full time. When you picked up the third, your stomach dropped, all work for the day done; you didn’t end up meeting your deadline.

You tried to tell yourself it was because you were worried about him. They were too young, Rachel was too controlling. She didn’t seem to really like Marcus for who he was; just who she thought he should be. It seemed like every call you made to catch up, she was in the background, urging him to hang up and be with her. It was obvious to you that she was trying to lay her claim; establish herself as more important than you despite your history together, and Marcus let her. But you missed your Marcus. To you, his rose-colored glasses never seemed to dull.

He had his reservations; he tried to tell you. But you had your project and the ring was burning a hole in his pocket and he just—did it. And Rachel said yes. And, after his mom, you were the first person he wanted to tell. Wedding planning did not go as he expected. It was stressful, sure—but Rachel seemed to turn into a different person. Marcus didn’t care about cream versus ivory napkins, or whether the DJ had a disco ball or laser light show. But Rachel did, and he dutifully followed her lead, letting her craft her perfect day.

Things came to a head when they had to decide on the wedding party. You had moved back home for a bit, not getting hired after your internship due to your missed deadline. Marcus wanted you in the party—you were his best friend. Surely some room could be made in the bridesmaids, beyond sisters and cousins and friends he barely knew.

But Rachel fought back on it. She didn’t want someone with her who she “barely knew,” despite knowing it was what Marcus wanted. If it were up to her, your invite would be mysteriously “lost in the mail,” though she never admitted that. But Marcus pushed back; the first real fight of their relationship, in which Marcus fell victorious. Instead of a Best Man, he would be having a Best Person—you.

Some part of you knew this was because of her. Why you wore a black jumpsuit to match the groomsmen and not a bridesmaid’s dress, why you had a boutonniere instead of a bouquet. But you were happy that Marcus was happy. Elated, joyous, sentimental. Everything someone should be on their wedding day. He cried when she walked down the aisle, read her personalized vows, kissed her with a passion you could only dream about. The wedding went off without a hitch, and soon enough it was time for your duty as Best Person—the wedding speech.

You took a deep breath as the DJ handed you a microphone, looking to Marcus and Rachel at their head table. Marcus had his eyes on you, grinning; Rachel was focused on her champagne.

“As some of you know, I’m Marcus’ ‘Best Person’ this evening. A bit unconventional, but hey—this is the same guy who wore a cape to school for five solid years.” That got you a few laughs. “So, Marcus and Rachel, I wish you both all the happiness in the world. You are so lucky to have found each other, and I hope you both always receive the love you deserve.” You gulp, seeing Marcus with misty eyes making you slightly choke up, but continue, knowing you’ll get him laughing again.

“Now, some of you may not know this, but as a child, Marcus and I—we used to put on a little magic show, The Marvelous Marcus. Mrs. Pike has enough pictures to prove it.” Marcus shakes his head sheepishly while Rachel gives him a questioning glare. “So, I thought it was only appropriate to finish this off with one of his classic tricks. Marcus—” you produce a deck of cards from your bag “—please pick a card and show it to your beautiful bride, and then the audience.” You make a show of looking away as the crowd giggles. You swear you hear Rachel scoff, but continue anyway. “Now please put it back in the deck.” You shuffle the cards dramatically before presenting them again. “Now—if this is your card, then we know you two are meant to be.” Rachel widens her eyes, clearly nervous, and you ask her to pick the top card of the deck and show it. The look of shock on her face tells you that you were successful, and she flips it out, the crowd gasping and clapping. Marcus looks awestruck; you had picked out his card.

“Ah, yes—the four of hearts! Marcus and Rachel—may your marriage always be magical, marvelous, and everything in between. Cheers!” You sip your champagne, Marcus raising his glass to you as he sips, Rachel dragging him by the bicep back to her. You quickly pocket the cards again; you don’t need anyone to figure out your little secret. You thought maybe, the two needed a bit of help to achieve marvelous and magical, and were willing to push the odds for Marcus’ sake.

Every card in the deck was a four of hearts.

The Three of Hearts

You and Marcus grew apart as he settled with Rachel, and you settled back into your hometown. You knew he was busy—a new bride at his side, a fixer upper that needed too much work, a job as a page at the FBI building downtown until he could train to be an agent. But you wondered about him. Wondered if that job really made him happy; if he still wanted to major in art history deep in his heart. If he chose between green or blue for the kitchen walls, if the reason for your separation was more intentional than you realized. After the wedding, you rarely heard from Rachel, if at all, and heard from Marcus at holidays or birthdays, but not much else. A Christmas card photo of them at a tree farm, fake smiles plastered across their faces, made its way directly into the trash.

Losing Marcus felt like a gaping hole in your life; one you needed to fill. And Joe seemed to fill that space perfectly.

You met Joe through work; a friend of a friend who you ran into at happy hour, he was charismatic and handsome and made you laugh. He walked you to your door after your first date, leaving with a peck on the cheek. He sent flowers during a particularly busy work week. He was perfect; he filled all the gaps Marcus left. Caring, doting. Protective.

Sometime before you moved in with him, Marcus called you to let you know he and Rachel were getting divorced. It had been less than three years since the wedding; part of you wanted to rush over there, comfort him, be the friend you always were. But the other half of you, a little hurt at the way he tossed you aside in favor of the woman who would break him, couldn’t do it. You offered platitudes, condolences. Let him know to call if he needed anything, but you were on your way out the door now, a date with Joe looming, and hung up amicably.

That night, you felt guilty; distracted. Joe seemed to notice, pulling you to him a little too tight, searching your phone when you went to the bathroom for any indication. It was out of love, he told you when you caught him. I just want to make sure you’re okay.

You and Joe moved in later that year. Like Marcus with Rachel, you had drawn back a bit; you met up with him occasionally, spoke on the phone if he called first, but other than that, you hadn’t seen much of him.

Or much of anyone. Joe didn’t really like your friends; even the one who introduced you, he had problems with, and they slowly fell away. He didn’t like how long your phone calls with your mom were, calling you childish for chatting with her every night even though you barely saw her once your parents retired to Florida. He didn’t like what you wore to go out with the girls, the argument ending with you staying in for the night. Every time, he told you, it was because he loved you so much. He just wanted to be with you. He didn’t want anyone else looking at you. He didn’t want you to reconnect with Marcus; he had hurt you before and he would do it again.

But you insisted. It was Marcus’ birthday, the first one since the divorce, and he invited you to a small get together. You and Joe. Which brought up another screaming match, another broken glass chucked carelessly off the kitchen counter until it shattered. You walked out; determined to make it to the party, Joe or not. You blotted your tears in the rearview mirror and drove to that old fixer upper, plastering on a fake smile as you ignored the hundreds of texts blowing up your phone.

Marcus notices everything, though. The hollow look behind your eyes, the fact that you won’t drink a glass of wine, insisting Joe doesn’t like it when you do. He sees your phone light up with notification after notification; hears your mutual friends claim they haven’t seen you in ages. Marcus notices. But it isn’t until the end of the party, when everyone’s left and you’re helping him clean up, that he brings it up.

“Where was Joe tonight?”

“Oh, you know—” you brush off. “Work.” Marcus says your name very seriously, and you look up from the dishes you gathered for him.

“I’m worried about you.”

“What? Why?” You ask, eyes wide.

“Uh—Joe. He—I don’t know. He’s keeping you from your friends, and your mom told my mom that you never call her anymore. He’s isolating you.”

“I’m here, Marcus, aren’t I?” you accuse, angrily.

“Yeah but—were you? He was texting you all night. And I know you were crying earlier. I just—” “Marcus, stop,” you insist firmly. “If you’re trying to accuse him of something, then say it.” “You don’t seem like yourself. And I think—I think he’s showing abusive behavior.” That finally gets a rise out of you.

“How would you know?! Rachel did the same things to you, you know—you never saw your friends when you were with her! Never called me! You don’t get to say I’m not myself, Marcus—you don’t know who I am. Not anymore.”

“That’s not fair.”

“What? That I’m right? That I came to your stupid birthday party just so you could shit on my life? I’m happy, Marcus! I’m sorry your relationship didn’t work, but mine does!” “Are you happy?!” He yells angrily, crowding you, though you don’t back down. His next words are soft; those same puppy dog eyes he gave you in grade school for half of your brownie at lunch looking sincerely at you. “Are you?” You falter, then drop what you were doing.

“Goodbye, Marcus. Happy Birthday.” With that, you storm out, ready to face whatever fallout was waiting at home for a night that certainly wasn’t worth it.

----

Joe said it was your fault that Marcus acted like that. That you shouldn’t have gone, that you didn’t deserve friends who you could have fun with anyway. That he was all you needed; he was the only person who cared about you. The screaming match that night was one for the ages, and though you both slept in the same bed that night, the wall between you was placed.

Looking back, you could see it escalate from there. Joe wanted you to quit your job; he could support you both. So you did. He wanted you to change your hair, your clothes, so you did. He wanted you to take care of the house, so you did.

But it was never enough. He would scream at you, throw things, rant and rave then follow up with sweet apologies like a switch had been flipped. He would criticize you, then claim you were the most beautiful girl in the world. Always a dichotomy.

Soon, even that stopped. He took what he wanted, when he wanted. You didn’t even care enough to stop him; if it meant avoiding an argument, it was fine. He was tracking your phone, texting and calling and even showing up when you weren’t where you said you’d be, just to drag you back to the house. So you stopped going out. Nothing ever seemed right.

Joe had always been rough. You knew he didn’t mean it; he was bigger than you, stronger, harsh around the edges. So a finger shaped bruise here, a shove into the counter there; it was nothing. It was an accident, to be explained away with a tearful apology. Marcus’ words—the last ones you’ve spoken in over a year—sometimes echoed in your mind. But it wasn’t like he was hitting you. It couldn’t be abuse.

But then he did. A square punch, right in the face, over a missed dish in the sink. He had broken after; sobbed with you, held you, apologized, tried to kiss it right. You were in shock; you didn’t know what to do. You waited for him to fall asleep on the couch that night, heading to the bathroom to examine your pounding face. Swollen, beaten, it looked awful. So you did what you should have done a long time ago.

You left.

You had nothing; no phone, no keys, no wallet. You needed to leave as quickly and as quietly as possible, and you hadn’t had a chance to look up a shelter or somewhere to go. You just left.

Your feet seemed to carry you to Marcus’ house. A light was on; it was late, but a light was on. You could hear it now. I told you so. You deserve this. Your brain wanted to turn and run, but already on the doorstep, something compelled you to knock.

I told you so. I told you so.

I told you so. A disheveled Marcus opens the door; sweatpants strung low on his hips, glasses pushed into his hair. He takes you in for a moment, surprised to see you, and you brace for impact.

I told you so.

“I’ll fucking kill him.” You blink at him, under his dim porch light. You watch as he makes his way further into the house, following him in when he leaves the door open and standing in the foyer. Over the entry table hangs a set of artist prints of playing cards, set neatly in rows, though the three of hearts sits slightly askew. You watch him gather a coat and some shoes, clip something to his pants, grab something from a safe that you don’t want to know the contents of, muttering to himself.

“M—Marcus?” You whisper smally, and he finally stops, looking at you again. “C—could you just stay? With me?” He drops everything he’s holding onto the kitchen counter, walking over tentatively. “I—I need you.” Finally, tears begin to fall, and almost immediately, he has you wrapped in his embrace, tighter than you thought possible.

And you sob.

And he holds you there. Cradling your head to his shoulder, he holds you as you mumble into him.

“I don’t know what I did wrong—” “You didn’t do anything wrong—”

“I—I don’t know why I deserved this—" He pulls you back to look at him, eyes full of tears, too.

“Listen to me--You didn’t deserve any of this. This—this isn’t love.” You nod. “You deserve to be happy, and healthy, and cared for—”

“—I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Marcus. After Rachel—” you interject with a sob, but he shushes you.

“You were right. She—she didn’t love me like I thought she did, like you thought he did. But one day—one day we’ll both get the love we deserve. A love where everything seems to just fall into place. And even through that—we’ll be together. I promise.”

The Two of Hearts

It took time for you to get back on your feet again. Marcus stayed with you through it all; he held you that night, not letting you go until exhaustion set into your bones. Even then, he guided you to his bed, laying you softly between the sheets before taking residence on the couch.

He didn’t force you to file a police report, even if he wanted you to—you didn’t want to. You wanted the nightmare over and done with, and he wanted to do that for you. So he got a few of his coworkers, decked out in their FBI coats, and went to your place, claiming to be in search of you. They asked him to come down to headquarters to see if he could answer some of their questions; in that time, you went to your old apartment, gathering your things with Marcus as quickly as possible.

Joe acted distraught; he sobbed, he pleaded, he claimed he had no idea where you could have gone. When you were done getting what you needed, Marcus went to check on the interrogation; he stood at the two-way mirror, brow set, practically growling, hoping Joe would incriminate himself, but he was too smart to do that. Eventually, they couldn’t reasonably hold him any longer, and he was allowed to leave. Marcus followed closely behind, waiting until he turned the corner from the building before roughly shoving him against a wall.

“Hey—” “Listen, you piece of shit—” Marcus snarled and Joe looked at him confusedly. “I know what you did to her. If you ever—and I mean ever—even so much as contact her again, I know how to make your death look accidental. Do you hear me?” Joe’s eyes look crazed, fear coursing through him as Marcus threatens him, so he shoves him again. “Do you hear me?!”

“Y—Yes,” he stutters, running off like a child after Marcus let him go. Marcus thinks it’s appropriate; no man would ever treat a woman like that.

So you stayed with Marcus for a bit; helped him around the house, choosing between green or blue for the kitchen walls. You were searching for another job, but with such a big, unexplainable gap in your resume, you were mostly coming up empty. Marcus didn’t mind though.

When he bought this house, this was what he pictured; fixing it up with someone. Rubbing paint on noses, maybe someday choosing the color of a baby’s room. With Rachel gone, he had fallen into a slump; none of his dreams seemed achievable anymore. The house felt more run down than fixed up, the paint cans gathered dust. Having you back in his life now, as an adult, felt different.

You were still the same best friends; he had no doubt you would allow him to saw you in half at a moment’s notice. But you were grown up now; he could see you as more than that little girl in the sandbox, or the teenager tucked behind the lockers. You were a woman—an attractive woman. Living in his house, snuggling on his couch, cooking his dinner when he got home from work. It all felt so domestic; like pieces were falling into place.

Then the agency you did your internship at all those years ago called. You got the job.

You were ecstatic; Marcus tried to be, too. But the job was back in Washington, DC. Another chance at his domestic life slipping through his fingertips, just as he was starting to identify the feelings he had growing for you. It was more than friendship; more than desire, though that was there, too. It was love.

He loved making the coffee in the morning and watching your nose lead you out of bed. He loved when you worked on replacing the bathroom sink, face scrunched in concentration. He loved when you ate dinner at his little round table, when you fell asleep on the couch under a blanket Nana Pike made him, when you looked at him with those eyes that seemed to say everything and nothing all at once. When he wished you were retreating to his bed instead of the guest room.

He loved all of you. As a friend, yes—but as more than that. And it was about to fly 1500 miles away again.

He supposes he could have done something. Expressed his feelings, asked you to stay. But he helped you pack up. Looked at apartments with you. Listened to you talk about a fresh start; one where you didn’t have to look over your shoulder anymore. And he knew; he loves you, but he wants what’s best for you. And that’s in DC.

So he drives you to the airport. He gives you a dramatic hug before security, telling you to call or text him as soon as you miss him, hoping you actually do. He watches you walk off with your bag until you’re out of sight.

He’s not even back on the highway when he gets a text, your name across the screen.

I miss you. :(

----

Life for you in DC seems to be thriving, if the weekly phone calls you and Marcus set up are anything to go by. You’re climbing the career ladder, making friends—you told him you were done dating for a while, and he could respect that. You had a nice little apartment and a grocery store where they knew your name and a standing appointment with Marcus on Saturday afternoons to watch a movie on Netflix together.

Despite every attempt, though, Marcus missed you. He ached with it. He could talk to you for hours, hear all about Diane in HR or tell you about his mom’s Facebook mishaps, but nothing compared to having you there. It was like a piece of him was missing. He even applied for a transfer to DC, hoping, praying to close the distance and make himself whole again.

And then the office was being remodeled, and he was working with Teresa, and it had been such a long time since Rachel—and she was pretty. Smart. Caring.

Not you.

But she was there.

And Marcus did what he always does; he jumped in, too fast, too strong—she returned his feelings, something he didn’t think possible. She spoke with him on the phone during the undercover mission; it didn’t feel the same as when he talked to you, but he was at work. That had to be it.

He remembers when he told you about her over the phone; you acted excited for him, encouraging in a way only you seem to know how to be.

“That’s great, Marcus!”

“So—what do you think? You think I should go for it?”

“Y—yeah. You need to get back out there. You’re charming, handsome—what could go wrong?” You offer. You’re happy you didn’t choose to do FaceTime for this movie, or he’d see the tears rising to your lashes.

“What about you? When will you ‘get back out there?’” He can hear you swallow harshly.

“Uh—well this guy from work asked me to drinks a few days ago. I told him I’d think about it.” Marcus blinked absently; he had just told you about another woman, but the idea of you on a date with someone else felt like pins in his chest--he's not sure why he even asked.

“You should tell him ‘yes.’” “Really?” You ask incredulously.

“Yeah,” Marcus clears his throat. “Why not?” You sit silently for a moment.

“O—okay. I’ll tell him Monday.”

So that was how Marcus began dating Teresa, and you began dating Keith.

Keith was fine. He made decent money, he could hold up a conversation as long as it was about spreadsheets and numbers, he pulled your chair out for you. But you felt like you were coasting with him; a placeholder for what you really wanted, a milquetoast version of something you weren’t sure about.

Then Marcus got the transfer to DC; he proposed to Teresa; he was moving to your city again, this time with fiancée #2 in tow. It all came in one phone call, like shots one after the other; Keith didn’t even notice your conflicted demeanor, focused on his current video game. You told Marcus you’d pick them up at the airport—it’s what a friend would do—and left it at that.

You were running late the day their plane came in; rushing through the parking lot and front entrance of the airport to meet up with them. You were excited to see Marcus—sometimes FaceTime just wasn’t enough. Plus, you were interested to meet Teresa—she was about to be a big part of your life, too. Hopefully she wasn't like Rachel.

Standing with various chauffeurs and family members, you realized almost everyone had a sign with the person’s name on it; a typical cliché, but a little funny, and you hadn’t prepared. You quickly dig through your bag for something—anything—that you could make into a sign, landing on a deck of cards you played solitaire with during your lunch breaks. You grab the first one from the deck—the two of hearts—quickly scribing “PIKE” with a black Sharpie, and hold it out, matching everyone else’s posture.

You know something’s wrong almost immediately. Marcus is smiling, walking out of baggage claim, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks forlorn, more rundown than a two-hour flight would provide. And he’s alone.

Still, he brightens when he spots you, laughing at the comically small sign you hold before taking it from you and embracing you in the tightest, warmest hug. You rock slowly with him, both happy to be reunited, but the elephant in the room needs to be spoken.

“Uh—are we waiting for—for anyone else?” You ask delicately.

“No,” he sighs. “No—just me.” He looks down to his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets awkwardly before giving you a melancholic smile. You only nod, lips in a tight line, before intertwining your arm with his and leading him out to your car.

The Ace

He eventually told you about Teresa. About how he kept bending—bending, bending, bending—waiting for her to love him the way he loved her. About Jane, about all the red flags that hid behind his rose-colored glasses. About her breaking off the engagement over voicemail while he was 30,000 feet in the air.

You spent a lot of time with Marcus in his first few months in DC; arguably, more time than you spent with Keith. You helped get him on his feet in the new city, showed him diners and pubs and the best bodega in town, made sure he got off on the right foot at work. More and more, the two of you fell into a routine, not unlike the one before you moved. Safe, comfortable. Loving.

You hadn’t realized how detached from Keith you felt until you were surrounded by Marcus. Marcus felt like everything to you; like a warm fireplace during winter, like a sweet popsicle under summer sun. You knew him more than you knew yourself; he felt like home.

You couldn’t quite place the emotions you felt; caught up balancing your job and relationship and friendship. But Marcus would give you these looks—these painful, yearning looks that made you swallow harshly and look away. When Marcus loved, he loved completely. You knew that; you’ve known that since the day on the playground. So, it was seemingly obvious that his second broken heart would elicit that response; so why did it hurt you, too?

Why did it hurt when he talked about marrying Teresa? Why did you wish he had never met Rachel to begin with? Why did it feel like the love you deserved could only come from him?

You pushed down the feelings, continuing to go through the motions with Keith. But one day, you were rummaging around under the sink for drain cleaner, and you spotted it—a little velveteen box. Dumbstruck, you pulled it into the light, opening it to reveal an—objectively pretty, though not your style—engagement ring.

You fell back from your knees, sitting on the cold tile floor, ring in hand. Keith was going to propose? And he already had the ring? You tried to picture your life; twenty years from now, sitting around the kitchen table, talking spreadsheets. Thirty years, dropping your kids off at college—did he even want kids? Your head was spinning—you quickly tucked the box back where you found it, rushing to your bag. You needed some air; a walk could do, maybe the fresh air would clear your head. You needed a sign; you shouldn’t feel like this with an engagement evident.

In your haste, your bag flipped as your grabbed it, spilling the contents; still included was the deck of cards from the airport, now missing the two of hearts. Looking at them, you settled on the floor and shuffled them quickly, fanning them out on the floor in front of you before whispering to yourself.

“Black card—I’ll say yes. Red card—I’ll say no.” Delicately, you pull one card from the deck, hesitant to flip it until the last second.

The King of Hearts, the Queen of Hearts

Marcus is somewhat surprised to see you run up to his door, clearly out of breath and panting as he lets you in.

“Is something wrong? I thought you were with Keith tonight—” “I broke up with Keith,” you breathe out.

“Oh—I’m sorry—”

“No, don’t be,” you reply, catching your breath, but Marcus looks confused. You pull something out of your jacket pocket, holding it up to him. It’s the ace of hearts. “Look—look. It was red.”

“Uh…okay,” he laughs, and you widen your eyes like he should get it before continuing to ramble.

“Marcus—I found a ring. Under Keith’s sink. And I panicked, and I was—I didn’t know what to do. I wanted a sign, so I set out the cards, and if it was black, I’d say yes, and if it was red, I’d say no.”

“Ok—so you said no?” “He didn’t even propose yet. I broke up with him.” It feels like the first time you and Marcus are not on the same page, but you continue, exasperated. “I—I thought maybe it was wrong. So I pulled another one. It was the Queen of Hearts.” You pull it out to show him. “And I sat there on the floor looking at the cards and I didn’t—I didn’t know why, but I was so relieved. I decided to pull one more—I wanted it to tell me why I was so happy for the red.”

“Okay…” he trails off, and you pull another card out to show him. It’s the King of Hearts. “So you didn’t want to marry him because…he’s not a king?” You roll your eyes.

“No! He—he was fine. I just—I was sitting there, and I realized, someone—someone else is the king of my heart.” You look at him sincerely, watching him swallow harshly. “And—Marcus, I know it’s so soon after Teresa, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to see this—but I love you. I love you as my best friend, but I’m also—I’m in love with you. I—I think I have been this whole time, and we just—we’ve never synced up and now it might be too late—or maybe you don’t feel the same. And that’s fine, we can just be friends, but I—” Your rambling is cut short as he crosses the room to you in three short strides, taking your face in his hands and kissing you like there’s no tomorrow.

Marcus didn’t do magic anymore; a childhood hobby left behind as he got older. Sure, he could pull a quarter from a kid’s ear or make a form in the office disappear, but for the most part, he had lost his spark in it; the wonder it required beaten out of him by life. But now—your lips on his, your arms pulling him as close to you as they can—he feels it again. He feels the spark, the wonder—it feels like he just performed for millions of people, some trick that’s never been seen before.

But it’s not a trick.

It’s you.

When he pulls back, your eyes are blown wide, both of you breathing heavily into the space between you.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.” You chuckle smally, searching his face. “Baby—I’ve been in love with you since the day you invited me to the sandbox.” You smile broadly, pressing your lips to his again and again until you’re breathless with it.

Finally—you can feel it. Both of you, together; you’ve both found the love you deserve.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

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[storiesofsvu]

Bad Day

Nick Amaro x fem!reader

Nick was surprised to come home and find the apartment not empty, lights flicked on in the entry way and the sound of the t.v buzzing from the living room. You usually worked later than him on Mondays since you didn’t go in until nearly lunch and he worked the early shift with the squad. He slid his jacket off, hanging it up as he toed off his shoes, moving through the apartment with ease, locking up his gun and changing into comfier clothes.

Grabbing a beer from the fridge he popped the cap, joining you in the living room. He smiled at the sight of you curled up in one of his sweatshirts, your head propped up on the arm of the couch as you watched Bridget Jones. He ducked to kiss your head,

“Hey sweetheart.” Nick dropped down onto the couch beside you, shifting your curled legs so they were across his lap, hands rubbing at your calves, “you feelin’ sick?”

“Hmm?” You half turned your gaze toward him, not truly meeting his eye.

“This is your feel good movie.” He gestured to the t.v, “you okay?”

“Physically yeah.” Muttering you felt your eyes glaze over again, trying to turn your attention back to the movie.

“Hey…” Nick’s hand squeezed at your calf, “talk to me baby.” When you glanced back up at him the adoring concerned look on his face made your heart swell, you couldn’t keep things from him no matter how heard you tried. Sighing heavily you pushed yourself up to sitting so you were half across his lap. Nick brushed your hair off your face, stroking at your cheek with his thumb.

“You know that job you were so proud of me getting last year?” You asked, picking at the sleeves of the sweatshirt.

“Yeah?”

“I got let go today…” the tears invaded your eye again as you finally met your boyfriend’s gaze.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” He pulled you to him, kissing your forehead softly, “did they give a decent reason at least?”

“Budget cuts.” You grumbled, “lowest on the totem poll got cut without a second glance.” A tear dared to slip its way down your cheek, “even with the glowing performance review I got last fucking week.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“You still love me right?” The wavering in your voice shook Nick down to his bones, his entire body softening at your words as he held you to him.

“Baby of course! Why would you ever think otherwise?”

“You provided for us when I was struggling, when I was job searching and it took so fucking long for me to actually get hired anywhere, I was beginning to feel like a charity case.” You cried, leaning into his chest, “you were so happy when I got hired, and I’ve..I’ve done my best to help out but now…now…I’m fucking useless…again…”

“Oh sweetheart.” He stroked at the back of your head, kissing it gently, “just because those idiots didn’t see how amazing you are doesn’t mean that I see you the same. You are, without a doubt the most incredible part of my life, I’ll always love you. Fuck those assholes.”

“Really?” Hesitantly, you glanced up. Nick smiled, kissing the tip of your nose.

“Really, really. As long as you’re by my side, that’s all I need.” Cupping your chin gently he kissed you and you nearly melted into his body, feeling the appreciation and love soaring from Nick to you in that moment. “Now what’d’ya say we order some greasy pizza and forget about this bullshit?”

“Okay.” You smiled meekly, only beginning to giggle as Nick started to tickle at your sides. Despite your protests he didn’t let up until you were full blown laughing. Even if it was out of torture, he was more than happy to see a real smile back on your cheeks. Ducking down he kissed you again,

“I love you.”

“I love you to Nick.” Smiling you titled your head up, kissing him again, smile evident on you lips. Even when life got you down the most, you were more than happy to know that Nick would always be there to bring you back up.

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 3

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky’s becoming extra horny around you in the office.

Word Count: 2,697

Warnings: still smut, boss x employee affair, unprotected sex everywhere, hints at misogyny???

A/N: And a mini series was born 😂 no but honestly, I didn’t expect for parts 1 and 2 of The Match to receive such amazing feedback 😭 I really enjoy reading everyone’s reaction to this series and trust me, all comments keep giving me ideas. Thank you all so much!!!!!!! 😘😘😘 and btw, this part isn’t their promotion “celebration” because that will have a chapter on its own. Long story short, that will be pure porn with no plot at all so stay tuned for that 😂

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

It’s been a rollercoaster ride since you matched with James— Bucky, on Tinder. Maybe not a literal rollercoaster ride but with how Bucky had you bouncing on his cock as he sat on the couch, or that one time he asked you to sit on his face inside his car, it was a ride nonetheless and an exhilarating one at that.

Despite your relationship with him, the both of you surprisingly managed to keep things professional when there was work involved. Of course there were times when quickies in the office took place, given that Bucky was fucking insatiable (let’s all admit it, so were you). Work was work and you excelled at being the head of your department, but once office hours are over, you excelled more at giving Bucky head.

Oftentimes you found yourself worrying about getting caught. You’ve always been careful but lately, Bucky seemed to be slipping up. He just couldn’t seem to get his hands off of you and he was becoming more and more obvious. You were pretty good at being discreet but sometimes, it was hard not to react to Bucky when he would look at you with a naughty glint in his eyes, a smug smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you present. He’d tilt his head sometimes as he looked at you, lifting a brow as he smirked whenever he was impressed.

You ended up stuttering when he gave you that look one time. It was proud and it made your chest swell and your pussy throb. He rewarded you that night in his office by making you cum on his face twice.

That look was going to be the death of you and he was giving it to you now as you entered the conference room for the monthly mancom meeting. Bucky eyed you as you went around the desk, lifting a brow and pulling the empty chair next to him, commanding you to sit beside him without having to say a word.

You cleared your throat and pulled the chair, noticing how Bucky eyed your ass before you sat down.

“Is everyone here?” He asked after ogling your backside for a good five seconds.

All the department heads affirmed their attendance and soon enough, the meeting began with the HR manager reporting first. Lights were shut off and as soon as the report was projected onto the wall, Bucky began his little game. You were paying attention to the slides being presented until you felt Bucky’s foot nudge your ankle, hooking around it to slightly open up your legs.

You side-eyed him and subtly shook your head. He had never done this in public, at least, not during meetings. So you weren’t sure why he was being so frisky now, placing a hand on your thigh. You grabbed his hand and moved it away gently before slightly moving your seat away from Bucky, crossing your legs in the process.

“What do you think Mister Barnes?” The HR manager asked.

All heads turned towards Bucky, who obviously wasn’t paying attention provided that his hand was trying to sneak back onto your thigh. He cleared his throat and straightened up on his seat, fixing his tie before pursing his lips.

“I’m sorry, can you please repeat that?” He asked and you fought the urge to snort.

“I was wondering if we can hold another seminar about workplace etiquette.” She said.

Bucky hummed, “Do we have problematic employees?” He asked curiously.

The HR manager sighed, a blush creeping up to her face. “There have been rumors going around the office about employees engaging in...lewd acts within the workplace. I thought that we should revisit the topic about workplace code of ethics.” She explained.

You ended up in a coughing fit, quickly apologizing and reasoning out that you were having allergies today. Bucky tensed in his seat but managed to remain calm. He stole a quick glance at you before turning back to the HR manager.

“And have we identified these employees?” He asked, rubbing a hand on his chin. A nervous habit of his, you noticed.

This was what you have been worrying about! Bucky has been fucking you around the office and now everyone was catching on to it. And although you wanted to blame Bucky for this, you knew you were just as much to blame. Damn you and your hormones!

The HR manager shook her head, much to your and Bucky’s relief. “No sir, but some employees have been noticing and hearing things, especially after office hours. Janet for instance, filed a report last week about hearing hushed whispers from the pantry, followed by the creaking sound of the table. The following day, shards of someone’s mug were found in the trash. There was an assumption that there might be employees behaving inappropriately.”

“Oh my god, I’m close. Bucky I’m—“

Bucky’s hand clamped around your mouth as he shushed you, hearing footsteps approach the pantry. You stilled as you nervously watched shadows move beneath the door, but of course, this didn’t stop Bucky from snapping his hips against yours.

His thrusts were slow and languid, but he slammed back in with such force that made the pantry table scratch against the floor. Once the footsteps faded, Bucky wasted no time to get back to fucking you. He lifted your legs up and rested the back of your ankles against his shoulders, slightly bending down over you so he can angle his cock to perfectly hit that one sweet spot.

A single, powerful thrust sent you reeling, your hands finding purchase on the sides of the table.

“Cum, baby. Cum.” Bucky growled.

Another thrust made you gasp out loud, feeling the head of Bucky’s cock nudge against your cervix. One hand reached for his bicep, your nails digging into his dress shirt while the other reached back for the edge of the table only to knock off the mug resting on top.

You made a face when you heard it crash against the floor. The mug was soon forgotten when Bucky leaned down to kiss you, his tongue sliding into your mouth as his hand reached down to rub your clit.

You wiped the sweat on your forehead upon remembering that incident. Fucking Janet just had to file a report. It was after office hours, for fuck’s sake! Who cares what employees do after their shift?!

“I see.” Bucky responded, fixing his suit. “Okay. I approve of the seminar. Who’s next?” He asked, quickly changing the topic as if it was no big deal.

The head of the Finance department began with his presentation and just like that, Bucky returned his hand on top of your thigh, prying your legs open. You turned to him with a look of disbelief on your face. He was acting as if there wasn’t any close call earlier. You couldn’t believe this man, sure he was hot as hell, but you weren’t giving in to him. Not today, not when the both of you were almost caught.

The entire mancom meeting was pretty eventful, with Bucky teasing your legs with his hand despite your half-hearted protests. You hated how Bucky was able to familiarize himself with your body and how it reacted to him. Your eyes might be saying no but with how your legs eventually spread on their own, Bucky knew you were desperate for him too.

-

It was an hour past your shift when you received an e-mail from Bucky with the subject being “Report”. Thinking it was one his follow-up e-mails (Bucky is an impatient man when it comes to the submission of reports and you weren’t an exception) you opened it immediately and choked on your spit when a photo of his dick showed up on your desktop. You started clicking around in an attempt to close his e-mail, but instead of hitting the “x” button, you ended up maximizing the window instead.

“Jesus fucking christ!” You cursed and covered your monitor with your hands as you frantically looked around the office.

It was like a fucking jump scare, like one of those computer pranks asking you to concentrate on a dot before a scary photo would pop out. Except that it was Bucky’s dick that appeared. A dick scare.

Fortunately, you were the only one left in your area since pretty much everyone else scrambled out of the office as soon as work hours were over. It was a Friday after all.

You sighed in relief and quickly scrolled down to see the message beneath the photo of Bucky’s dick.

Need you in my office in ten.

P.S. Bring the report I asked from you the other day.

Best,

Bucky Barnes

Who sends an unsolicited dick pic through e-mail followed by a work reminder? And the signature? It was the cherry on top. Bucky Barnes was something else. Sweet jesus, you really couldn’t believe this man.

Grabbing your report, you marched your way to the elevator and headed up to Bucky’s office. Seeing that his floor was empty, you didn’t even bother knocking on his door and simply barged in.

“I can’t belie— what the fuck?” You called out when you were welcomed with the sight of Bucky leaning back on his chair, his cock out for the world to see as he gently stroked it.

“Need your pretty mouth around my cock, baby.” Bucky cooed with half-lidded eyes.

You huffed out a humorless laugh and shook your head, “I’m not sucking your cock, Bucky.” You refused and walked over to his table, slamming your report on top of it before walking away, but not before stealing another look at his majestic cock.

“Are you mad?” Bucky asked but he was smirking with amusement. He was giving you that look again but you were having none of it tonight.

You stood in front of his desk, keeping a safe distance away from him. Crossing your arms over your chest, you scowled at Bucky and tried your best not to let your eyes fall down to his cock again. Which by the way, he continued to stroke.

“For someone as smart as you, I can’t believe you’re so fucking dense.” You said with irritation when Bucky didn’t seem to understand why you were agitated.

He licked his lips, bucking up his hips when he squeezed the base of his cock. Bucky let out a delicious grunt as he continued to stroke himself. As much as you were salivating at the sight of Bucky’s cock— tip red and swollen, begging to be sucked— you didn’t want to give in.

“You’re fucking priceless, James.” You said, exasperated and turned around, heading towards the door.

You were about to reach onto the door knob when you heard the sound of a zipper followed by the wheels of Bucky’s chair screeching against the floor before a pair of hands grabbed at your waist. Turning you around, you were met with Bucky’s worried face.

“Shit, you’re really mad. Talk to me?” He pleaded, eyes apologetic as he took a step back, urging you to speak up.

“You might want to take a seat because I’ve got quite a list.” You said.

Bucky obeyed and returned to his chair immediately, sitting upright as he looked at you with doe eyes. If you weren’t so mad, you would’ve melted at the sight of him like that. And the Bucky Barnes? The CEO? Obeying you like a good little boy? Huh, what an interesting concept. You mentally took note of a certain kink that you might enjoy. But for now, you were mad at him and you were going to make him understand why.

“Number one, I don’t particularly enjoy it when you tease me in front of everyone else. We talked about staying professional when there’s work involved and what you did during the mancom was definitely not professional.” You told him.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold back not when your ass looked so fuckin’ tight in that skirt of yours. Can you blame me?” Bucky almost whined.

“Keep it in your pants, Barnes. I’m not yet done.” You reminded him and went over your second point.

“Number two, we almost got caught to the point of the HR deciding to hold a seminar on workplace ethics! Do you know how awkward it would be for me to sit there and listen to scenarios about office misconduct? Most of which we’ve probably done. I’d sweat like a whore in church!” You hissed.

Which scenarios could that be? Fucking inside the janitor’s supply closet? Check. Doing the nasty in one of the bathroom cubicles? Check that twice. Giving a blowjob beside the fax machine during lunch break? Triple check that shit.

“And oh, you sent me a dick pic using your work e-mail! You do know that the IT can access our computers right? Almost gave me a heart attack when it flashed on my monitor.” You asked in a huff.

Bucky snickered, “Are you forgetting that I’m the CEO? Baby, I can easily clean up our mess.” He reassured and stood up, approaching you.

You shook your head, “That’s exactly the point, Bucky. You are the CEO and I’m an employee. You may not understand it but I’m scared. If we get caught, it’s over for me. Whether you have it cleaned up or not, I’d still be the one at risk here. You’ll never be in the same position as I am. People won’t call you names if we get caught. No matter what happens, I’d always get the short end of the stick.”

You didn’t mean to be all serious, talking about the possible misogynistic outcome of your relationship with Bucky. As much as you enjoyed it, it still scared the living daylights out of you. Some were already spreading rumors about your promotion, getting caught would only add fuel to the fire.

Bucky sighed and nodded, “I’m sorry. I didn’t try to understand where you were coming from.” He genuinely apologized.

“If it scares you that much, then let’s make it official.”

You deadpanned at him, “Make what official, Bucky?” You asked, eyebrow raised in curiosity.

Bucky shrugged and motioned his hand between the both of you, “This...us.” He simply said.

You scoffed, “Tell the entire office that we’re fucking every chance we get? Are you out of your mind?”

Bucky ran a hand through his cropped hair, “Not like that. Look, we’ve been at it for what? Two? Three months now? We might as well make this into an official relationship.”

You blushed at Bucky’s suggestion. Sure, you practically jumped at the opportunity to fuck your boss when he asked you. But were you an easy bitch in general? Of course not, even with how thirsty you were for him, you still had a little bit of appreciation for the old-fashioned ways.

Pushing Bucky’s chest away, you shook your head at him. “That’s now how relationships work, Bucky. You can’t fuck your way into my heart.”

Bucky laughed and bit his lip, “Fine. Then I’ll do it properly.” He said so easily you were starting to wonder whether he was fucking with you.

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously, “I don’t believe you.” You said.

“You will, baby. I’ll make sure of that. We’ll do it old-school.” He said, caressing your cheek.

You were caught off guard but you didn’t want to get your hopes up. Bucky had been an amazing lover and in the past months you’ve fucked, he treated you with respect and took good care of you. He brought you dinner, drove you home and texted you good night. Sometimes he’d text you during the weekends too.

“Old-school it is then.” You shrugged as if it was no big deal but oh, it was a big deal.

Bucky nodded with a grin, “Okay. But...” he trailed, his smile turning upside down in deep thought.

“Does that mean we’d stop fucking each other for the mean time?” He asked.

You snickered, “I said you can’t fuck your way into my heart, not my pussy. So sit down and let me suck your cock.”

-

Everything Bucky Tag List:

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The Match Special Tags:

@marvelslag​ @weird-mumbling​ @propertyofpoeandbucky​ @lostinthoughtsandfeelings​ @mostly-marvel-musings​ @squishybabies​ @megzdoodle​ @little-baby-vixen​ @annathesillyfriend​ @xhollycowx​ @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ @5-seconds-of-mendes​ @gogolucky13​ @countonthesun​ @iloveshawnieboi​ @learisa​ @borikenlove​