#do vegetables count as objects??? I think they do

[huntersapprentice]

day 16: objecthead technically an objecthead?? wahh

head full of bedazzle and doodads

[xiao-come-home]

Thinking about post-story Jiaoqiu trying to find himself in the new situation.. and getting even more clingier 🤧

warning: spoilers for jaoqiu's story if you havent played the new quest. possible ooc jiaoqiu?

Word count: 1k+

a/n: its been a while from writing and even tho im not disabled in any way, i hope its alright bc im kinda nervous to post this. i just think hed be a lovely pain in the butt to get more love </3

The new reality has been a true challenge for Jiaoqiu - trying to navigate through the house was already a tedious task, let alone cooking, but he wasn't going to give up so easily. While yes, he did miss doing things by himself - which, once in a while brought dark clouds over his head - the foxian managed to find enjoyment through doing tasks together, with your help.

It's quite known that Jiaoqiu isn't afraid of craving affection from you anywhere and anytime - especially now, considering he's limited in what he's able to do safely without hurting himself. Now that you're welcome in the kitchen to assist him, the pink-haired foxian can't help, but pull you flush against him while you carefully guide his hands to cut vegetables in even slices.

The healer slowly trails the tip of his nose down your hair until he recognizes the familiar shape of your neck - Jiaoqiu nuzzles happily into you, ever so slightly tickling you and giving you goosebumps; he smiles against your skin when you let out a comically fake, tired sigh, only fueling him to continue pestering you further.

He purposely takes his chin off the top of your head and searches for your ears so he's able to whisper, but when you decide to playfully confront him, Jiaoqiu only plays dumb and tilts his head to the side, asking you a seemingly innocent question, "Hmm? What do you mean, love? I'm not doing anything, the kitchen is not a playground, remember?"

There's a chance you'd probably believe him if you two were mere coworkers - but his twitching ears always give away his attempts to lie to you.

Jiaoqiu is clingy. Absolutely no news to anybody. That's when you finally get done with cooking, it's time for the cunning foxian to get a break; he stretches his arms to you, waiting until you put his hands on your cheeks. He cups them gently, rubbing the soft flesh with his thumb, and softly moves it to find your lips - his mind paints a picture of your figure, the shape and every crease his fingers feel; he smiles at you yet again, with a glimmer of mischief.

He wants to kiss you.

He also knows he will most likely miss your lips more or less.

But instead of feeling hopeless, he uses it to his advantage.

Jiaoqiu begins to pepper your face in kisses until he feels you try to get away from him and hears your angelic giggles; he kisses your left eyebrow - oh no, that's definitely not the place he's aiming for! He moves more to the right and kisses the bridge of your nose - oh no, not yet! The softness of his lips meets the apple of your cheek - oh, that's closer, but still not the goal he has in his mind...

After a while of Jiaoqiu purposely changing directions (and probably missing some anyway, but it's not like he complains about it, since he can kiss you more this way), with a little help of yours, he places a kiss on the corner of your lips, barely giving you time to breathe and finally, finally reaching his awaited destination, pressing his lips on yours; he gives you a few quick kisses if he feels like he still misses the exact place to change the angle, melting into a puddle with butterflies in his stomach.

Is it hard sometimes? Yes. The heavy weight travels straight to his heart, leaving him clenching his fists; the foxian hates the helplessness that hurts twice as much, much worse than the wounds Hoolay has inflicted.

Nowadays, his ears pick up your step way better, even letting him guess correctly what jar of herbs you're opening from the mere sound. He uses his tail as some sort of object detector - but he only waves his fan innocently when it makes you yelp in surprise, as Jiaoqiu runs the tip down your spine all the way down.

"Ah, I wonder what that was?" Jiaoqiu wonders, the fluffy ears twitching and the pink tail swishing behind him, "Is something wrong, beloved? Did you mess up the measurements? No worries, we'll fix it right away."

Well, if you decide to leave the house for supplies, you now have to hold his hand all the time. Just to be sure, he also wraps his tail around you, so he knows you're by his side and he doesn't bump into anybody. Hey, he's just thinking about the civilians around him! As a doctor, there's nothing else that matters more than keeping them safe and healthy... Right?

Even though he's been braiding his hair for years and could probably do it by himself again - being only a tiny bit off on one side, he cuddles up to you in the morning and presses kisses onto your neck, silently asking you to help him once you get out of bed - you certainly can't miss his hair getting all up in your face... and therefore, what he's asking for.

Does he feel a liiiitle desperate? Mmm, a bit.

Does he feel like he's feeding the helplessness in the back of his mind? Sometimes.

But it's worth to look for happy moments regardless of the situation - and you being perfectly aware he's doing it solely to get even more of your attention - makes him feel a little better with it.

Though, he knows when to stop and give you space; he doesn't want to actually become your burden, even if he lost his sight, he's still trying his best to stay as independent as possible in terms of daily tasks as possible.

If you're tired, Jiaoqiu waits until you hand him the brush and he's the one combing your hair; if you're too sleepy in the morning, he's the one helping you put on your clothes with verbal help, even if it takes a bit more time than usual. Along with you, he organizes medicines so neatly, it takes a blink of an eye for him to bring a full tray of medicines when you happen to catch a cold.

Does he miss being able to see? More than he'd admit.

But the more he thinks, the pink-haired foxian always comes to the same conclusion - it'll probably be harder to unlearn the clinginess once his eyesight comes back...

But for now, maybe it's alright to indulge a little more?

[chahnniesroom]

to have and to hold

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: you don't think there's anything chan can do to make you love him more. chan continues to prove you wrong.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, lots of fluff!!

a/n: sorry it has been so long since i posted! i have been wanting to write this since that ep of return of superman where chan and felix took care of rowoon, it was so so sweet. also i'm so sorry but i did not edit this at all

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

“Do you think you’d ever want to have kids?” 

Your question breaks through the quiet dialogue of the show that you and Chan are watching. Behind you, you feel Chan freeze before he forces himself to relax and continue fiddling with your fingers.

Chan hesitates for a moment longer before answering.

“I don’t know,” he says, slowly and carefully. “I think that I’d want to eventually, but right now? Being an idol- It would be difficult. I mean, for anyone it’s hard, but especially with this career…”

“Do you like children?” you ask, curious even though you can anticipate his answer.

“Yes.” This time he replies immediately, although his voice is still cautious. He releases your hands from his hold and gently nudges your shoulders so that you twist to look at him. “Y/n- Do- Are you-”

“What?” you stare at him, not sure why he suddenly seems so worried.

“Are you pregnant?” he asks gently. “It’s fine if you are! We can totally work things out and I will 100% support you the whole time-”

“Oh!” You smack yourself in the forehead. “No! Definitely not! I was just thinking.” 

“Ah.” Chan slumps against the back of the couch, this time he’s actually relaxed. “Just thinking or- what brought this on?”

“I’m sorry,” you say hurriedly. “That must have been out of nowhere for you. No, it’s because my older sister’s wedding anniversary is coming up, the first one since she’s had a kid, so I wanted to let her go out without having to worry. I was wondering if you wanted to help me babysit?”

“I see,” Chan says, sounding relieved. “Your sister. Yes, I haven’t met Doyun yet, right? I’d love to help you take care of him.”

—

Your sister is delighted that you’ve offered to take Doyun for an evening and you quickly coordinate with Chan what day would work best. It’s not possible to babysit on your sister’s actual anniversary due to Chan’s schedules, but your availabilities line up on a Friday night the weekend after.

Chan is nervous leading up to it, which you find absolutely adorable. When you look over his shoulder one night, curious what he’s focusing so intently on, you find him scrolling through articles on interacting with babies as well as tips on baby-proofing an apartment.

Before your sister arrives, you work with Chan for a few hours transforming the open area of your apartment, placing pillows and draping blankets over sharp corners and making sure to keep any small objects out of reach. 

When the doorbell rings, Chan panics, popping his head out of the kitchen from where he’s been trying to figure out a way to prevent Doyun from being able to open the cabinets.

“We're not ready!” he says, eyes wide.

“What do you want to do, keep them waiting outside until you finish?” you joke, then pause when it looks like Chan is actually considering it. “Don't worry, I'll go let my sister in and you keep working on that. We'll be watching Doyunnie the whole time, so even if you can't work that out, it's fine.”

Your sister doesn't stay for very long. She hands Doyun off to you and assures both you and Chan that your place looks safe for a baby. After going through everything that is packed in the massive diaper bag that she’s leaving with you, she heads back home to get ready for her dinner.

Doyun has a short attention span and cycles between playing with a stuffed animal, a ball, some plastic fruits and vegetables, and toy trains within the first hour. He is so adorable that you and Chan don't mind how much energy is required to keep him occupied. Luckily he's a fairly easygoing baby and hasn't fussed at all, although it did take a while for him to warm up to the two of you.

He's comfortable now, especially since Chan has started to spin the two of them around, hands firmly gripping Doyun’s torso. Doyun absolutely loves it, shrieking in excitement with his eyes crinkling. Even after a few minutes of the same thing, he never grows bored, just as thrilled everytime that Chan lifts him above his head. Although Doyun isn��t very heavy yet, after 15 minutes there’s sweat visible on Chan’s forehead and he’s starting to get out of breath.

“How about we take a bit of a break? Do you want to read?” Chan sits Doyun down against some pillows and rummages through the bag that your sister packed, finding some of the books that she included.

Chan hands the books over and although Doyun accepts both of them, he throws them aside and instead clumsily reaches up towards Chan, clearly asking to be picked up again. Chan pretends to groan and complain as he lifts Doyun back up.

“Aww,” you coo. “He really likes you.”

“And I really like him,” Chan says, spinning Doyun around. “I just wish I hadn’t gone to the gym earlier today, I didn’t realise what a workout this would be!”

Eventually Doyun grows tired, no longer begging Chan to continue. This time when Chan settles him on the ground, he just looks around curiously before crawling up to Chan and grabbing at his curls.

“He’s so small,” Chan marvels. “Look at his little fingers!”

He reaches out towards Doyun, who immediately wraps his hand around Chan’s index finger and pulls it towards his mouth.

It's comical to see the difference in size between their hands and Chan visibly melts, allowing Doyun to gum at his fingers, quickly covering them in a sheen of saliva.

“Are you hungry Doyunnie?” Chan asks. “It’s almost time for dinner, let’s see what your auntie prepared for us.”

By the time Doyun is set up in a high chair with a bib on, you’ve finished cooking. Dinner for Doyun is simple, consisting of steamed vegetables, tofu, rolled omelette, rice, and a bit of fruit. You’ve also used the same ingredients plus a few additions to make kimchi stew for you and Chan.

Chan is distracted the whole meal, prioritising feeding Doyun and wiping his face clean in between bites over eating his own food. It's a futile effort since Doyun seems more interested in smearing the food around rather than getting it into his mouth.

When you're finished with your food, you switch spots with Chan and coax Doyun into eating the last few bites he has left while Chan scarfs down his own meal. 

After dinner, you carry Doyun into the bathroom and start filling the bathtub with a shallow layer of warm water. He watches with wide eyes as you add bubble bath that changes the colour of the water to a deep blue and creates a thick cover of bubbles. After washing the dishes and wiping down the kitchen, Chan joins the both of you just as you’re rinsing suds out of Doyun’s hair.

Cleaned and dressed in a fuzzy onesie with tiny bear ears poking out from the hood, Doyun struggles to stay awake for the rest of the evening. It’s obvious that he’s tired, he’s starting to get cranky and his blinks get longer and longer, but he stubbornly continues to play. After his third time nodding off while slotting plastic shapes into a cube, Chan picks him up and walks him around the room, rocking him slightly while humming a melody that you can’t recognize.

When your sister comes to pick up Doyun, he's sprawled out on Chan’s chest, deeply asleep. A line of drool drops from his open mouth to form a wet spot on Chan’s shirt, but Chan doesn’t seem to mind, staring at Doyun with stars in his eyes.

That night, right when you're about to fall asleep, Chan speaks up. His arms are wrapped around you and you can feel his breath against the back of your neck. 

“I think,” he says quietly. “I think I want kids. Not now, I still have the same concerns as before, but in the future? I want it.”

“You did so well with Doyunnie, it looked so natural,” you agree. “I think you would be a great dad.”

“Only if you’re there by my side,” he corrects.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

[forever-rogue]

can I request a Joel Miller x reader fic where she's in love with him but is convinced he would never have feelings for her too as she's younger than him and shy and quiet but maybe all gets revealed (however you want to do that) 👉👈 super fluffy but put some angst in there too if you wish 🥰

AN | Okay, but I love this so much ❤️

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.3k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

People always seemed to call you shy. 

And you were you supposed, in your own way. It had a lot of perks when you really thought about it, and one of the main benefits happened to be that people often seemed to leave you to your own devices. 

You liked that you had the ability to watch and observe people without question. There was a lot that could be learned when people thought they weren’t being watched. 

And one of your favorite people to study happened to be Joel Miller. 

He was a quiet man and often kept to himself more than anything, but there was still a lot to be gleaned from him. He was resourceful and smart, kind and friendly but not in an overbearing way, and generally…the object of your affections. Not that you would ever admit that to anyone else. You’d never said those words out all loud - and never would. No, that was a secret you would take to the grave. 

You were he probably already knew - you felt like a pathetic, rambling fool around him. He managed to erase every sensible thought in your head and the ability to form any coherent sentences. Instead you fumbled over your words, feeling warm and anxious…so you usually tried to avoid him as much as you. Sometimes it worked, but other times it seemed like he managed to find you or be in the same spot as you at every conceivable moment. 

It sucked. You were sure that one day you’d accidentally spill the beans or somehow give away that fact you were desperately in love with him. As long as you managed to keep your guard up, you were sure that it would all be fine. All you had to do was avoid him for the rest of your life. 

How hard could that be?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey,” that familiar gruff cut through your internal monologue as you gasped in surprise and almost dropped at the stuff in your arms. You turned around to him Joel watched you with a bemused expression on his face, “you alright? Didn’t mean to scare you, kid.”

Kid. You hated when he called you that. It made you feel like you were nothing in his eyes. Just a mere inconvenience. A kid that happened to be in his way.

“‘s alright,” you mumbled, righting the basket in your arms as you turned back to the vegetables and fruits you were tending to, “didn’t hear you is all.”

“Didn’t hear me,” he chuckled, the sound warm and familiar as it made the butterflies in your stomach flutter like crazy, “I don’t think I was being quiet in the slightest. Must have been awfully focused on whatever is going on in that pretty little head.”

You froze, eyes widening at his words, but continued to pick the fresh vegetables. You were so thankful that your back was to him as you tried to shrug him off. Otherwise he might have sensed just how flushed your face was and the lovesick expression on your face. 

You. You, you, you. 

"Nothing," you lied through gritted teeth, attempting in vain to slow down the beating of your heart and higher octave of your voice, "just thinking about what new things to plant once the season changes."

"And what did you decide?" Oh yeah. He was totally calling your bluff. 

"About what?"

"The vegetables?" 

"Oh…umm…cucumbers?"

"That's a summer vegetable," you cringed as he made a small sound of amusement. Did the man really have to know everything? You remained silent but could hear him shift, "last time I checked its almost winter."

"Well," you make quick work of gathering the rest of your veggies and placing them gently into the basket, "I guess I'll figure it out later."

You stood up and quickly turned on your heel to leave, rushing to get away and put this whole situation behind. You felt his fingers wrap around your wrist and gently hold you back. When you met his eyes, you noticed the little smile on his face, "everything alright?"

"Peachy," you lied as you gently pulled out of his grasp, "see you around, Joel."

"See you, Kid."

You hoped that maybe you'd never see him again and therefore avoid ever making a fool outside of yourself. 

Unlikely.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“And just where do you think you’re going?” you almost jumped in surprise, a small sound of surprise escaping your lips before he clamped his hand over your mouth. He put a finger to his lips and shook his head. You relaxed slightly when you saw it was him. When he realized that you weren’t going to freak out he dropped his hand from your mouth.

“Joel!” you hissed at him, looking around to make sure no one had followed either of you, “what are you doing here?”

“The better question is what are you doing here?” he crossed his arms over his broad chest as he raised an eyebrow at you. You put an innocent smile on your face and shrugged, knowing you weren’t fooling him in the slightest. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” oh. He was loving this way too much already.

“Telling? Wait - no, telling you,” you huffed, annoyed with yourself for how nervous you suddenly felt, “I’m just…here.”

“Here,” he repeated as you nodded, “it looks like you were trying to sneak out of the safety of the QZ.”

“Ummm…” realistically there was no other thing you could have been doing in that particular location. You were both acutely aware of the truth of the situation, “I’m just hanging out.”

“Come on, Kid,” he reached up and brushed a few rogue strands of hair behind your ear, “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know you like to sneak out.”

“I don’t-”

“I don’t care that you do,” he dropped his voice to a whisper as you slowly swallowed thickly, “I care about the fact that it’s not safe.”

“You do it!”

“I can handle myself,” he insisted, putting his finger under your chin in order to turn your face up to his, “not that I don’t think you can. It’s different.”

“I don’t usually get into trouble,” you shrugged, “I just like getting out sometimes. It almost makes things feel normal sometimes.”

He regarded you for a few moments, inhaling deeply before exhaling slowly. Your heart skipped a few beats as you wondered if he would yell at you or get you in some sort of trouble, “let’s go.”

“I’m - wait. What?” your eyes widened in surprise when he definitely said the opposite of what you had expected, “go home?”

“Let’s go out,” he reached for your hand and gently took it in his before he started to tug you along towards the way out. You were rooted in place, staring at him incredulously. He laughed, the soft sound made butterflies explode in your tummy, “what?”

“You mean it?” you whispered as the smile on his face grew, “Joel?”

“Let’s go out in the world and get away for a little bit,” he insisted softly. A small part of you was convinced that this was all fake and that he was going to get you in trouble. But the larger part of you knew that Joel would never do just a thing. And the tender look in his eyes solidified that for you, “what do you say?”

“Yes,” you agreed with a shy smile and fervent nod, “let’s go.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You should tell him, you know,” Lizzy nudged your side with your elbow and despite the serious look you were attempting to keep on your face, you giggled lightly. You ignored her comment as you turned back your attention towards the sky, as you studied the big, fat fluffy clouds. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you huffed, trying to tune out the way she looked at you with a coquettish little smirk, “busy Lizzy, mind your own business!”

“You’re my best friend,” she reminded you, causing you to grumble at her, but it was all laced with affection, “I’m a part of your life and I’m just trying to get you in the right direction.”

“There is no right or wrong direction,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands, “there’s nothing there, Lizzy. I’m just a dumb kid with a big, fat crush and that’s all it’ll ever be. Can we drop it?”

“You’re so blind! It’s so obvious that he feels the same,” you loved Lizzy, and her tenacity was one of her amazing qualities. But right now it just felt so…overwhelming. You blinked back the tears that had threatened to well up and shook your head, “sweetheart-”

“Lizzy,” you put your hand on her arm and gave it a squeeze, “Joel doesn’t like me like that. I’m just a kid to him and that’s all I’ll ever be, and that’s okay. I’ll get over it…one day.”

“You’re so blind!” she was laughing, and despite the sound being so lovely and soft, your heart constricted in your chest. Before she could open her mouth to say anything else, you heard a loud throat clear from behind you. The two of you sat up in surprise, turning your attention towards the door to the roof. 

Fuck. Of course. Of course Joel Miller had to choose the perfect time to make an appearance. Lizzy had a huge grin on her face as she jumped up from the blanket you’d been lying on you. You looked at her in desperation as she practically skipped over to Joel and past him, smiling sweetly at the older man. 

In your anxious state you held up your hand in a meek little wave. Joel chuckled softly before making his way over to you. Without waiting for an invite, he sat down next to you, his thigh pressed against yours. 

“You heard all of that, didn’t you?” your entire body was warm and you almost wished that something would have popped up to create a distraction. Not like fully on clicker distraction, but something. You keep your gaze trained anywhere but him as embarrassment washed over you. 

“I did,” he admitted as you groaned internally. You could practically feel his pretty brown eyes focused on, but you weren’t ready to die of humiliation just yet. 

“Of course,” you nodded in annoyance, at yourself more than anything. You groaned before letting out a small huff. You finally managed to turn your face towards him and to your surprise, he didn’t look mad or angry, “I’m umm…sorry. I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” it was a genuine question that caused you to shrug noncommittally, “the fact that I found out or for the feelings themself?”

“Both, I guess,” maybe the ground could open up and swallow you whole. That might be a nice change of pace, “m-mostly the fact that you found out.”

“So you’re not sorry for the feelings?”

“Can’t really help your feelings, can you?”

“No,” he agreed, shooting a curious little look, “I guess you can’t.”

“I hope this doesn’t make things awkward,” you whispered, “I try to stay away from you, but I swear you always seem to pop up out of nowhere. It always feels like the universe is laughing at me.”

“Almost like it wasn’t a coincidence at all…”

“I guess you’re….wait,” you turned your attention to him, allowing yourself to look at the man in question, “not a coincidence? What do you mean?”

“You’re a smart girl,” he praised and oh. If you didn’t enjoy being praised before, you sure did now, “you can put two and two together.”

“I….Joel-”

“Lizzy wasn’t as far off as you think she was,” he stated it so simply like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Your mouth dropped open as you stared at him, waiting for him to drop the just kidding bomb. He put his finger under your chin and gently closed your mouth, “is it really that hard to believe?”

“N-no,” you admitted softly, “I guess not. Just…are you sure? Me? Why…I don’t get it. Why me?”

“Don’t do that,” he insisted firmly, “the self doubt - there’s no reason for it.”

“I’m just…me.”

“Exactly,” he answered, leaving no room for any sort of back-talk, “you’re not just some kid or just a nobody. Not to me.”

“But I…I-”

He rested his hand on your neck, his thumb gently brushing along your soft skin, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

“Oh. Oh,” your eyes widened for a moment before you felt the soft press of his lips against yours. It wasn’t much of a kiss, more of a soft brushing of lips, both of you testing the waters. When he pulled back, you found him watching you with a soft expression on his face, “that was…you kissed me.”

“I did,” he echoed his words from earlier, “and I’d like to do it again if you’re okay with it.”

“Yes,” you smiled shyly at him, “I’d like that a lot.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” and he was kissing you again, like the two of you had been doing this for a long time, like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

Maybe you weren’t just some dumb kid after all.

[artsninspo]

"FIRST LOVE💗 " - RIO X READER

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

Summary: For the girls who wanted a younger rio x reader. Here it is; Rio’s fallen for the daughter of his boxing coach. Based around this ask.

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Reader

Warnings: none this is fluffy 🐻 🐻 🐻

Word Count: 1K

“Tell me you love me” Rio laughs, pulling you to him. His thumbs looped into the belt loops of your jeans as his hands rest on your butt. Looking up you laugh at the sight of him wearing your puppies of choice.

“No” you respond and he pulls you in closer.

“Don’t play with me” he laughs sitting on the trunk of his car.

“Tell me you love me” he repeats and you look up at him about to respond when your phone buzzes in your back pocket. Taking your hands from his knees you reach into it to see your dad in the caller ID.

“Dad?” You question picking up.

“Maria says we also need vegetables, I texted you the list. Don’t come back without it” he says talking about your stepmom. 

“Okay, it’ll take a little longer” you respond.

“Hurry we’re all hungry” your father says and Rio hips down from his car swinging an arm around you as you hand up.

“Lucky for you I know where all this shit is” he smiles, taking the phone from you. The two of you walk like that from the very back of the parking lot into the store. You grab a cart and Rio leads the way. His abuelita has taught him well or he’s excellent at bullshitting.

“Hey, Y/N it’s nice to see you” one of your friends' moms says, eyeing Rio.

“Nice to see you too Ma’am” you smile.

“One of your brother's friends?” She pries, ready to sell your secrets for a chance to be with your father.

“Yeah, he works at the gym” you don’t hesitate.

“Christopher” Rio smiles.

“Mhm, be good sweetie and stay away from boys who look at you the way he does. They’re all trouble” she advises before walking away. Everyone’s already made plans for the kind of man they want you to be with.

“So you don’t love me?” Rio whispers in your ear to taunt you.

“I told you not to get that neck tatt” you laugh evading the question and he smiles laughing. 

“I’ll get one for you, when you tell me you love me” Rio whispers in your ear again, in good humour.

“We should tell my dad.” You sigh.

“Why?”

“Because he’s your boxing coach and it could get messy if he thinks you’re a fox in the hen house” you explain.

“You won’t even tell me you love me, he doesn’t have to worry about us having sex” Rio scoffs, placing the final ingredients in your cart. You smile happy he knows and he smiles back winking at you.

“You’re okay with that?” You ask and he shrugs walking at your side.

“I’m seeing you when your dad can fuck me up, my heads already gone. Probably best for my well being you don’t sleep with me yet so I can stop spinning” Rio says making you blush.

“My dad likes you” you share candidly.

“For now” Rio says knowing how things work.

“I don’t think us dating changes that. Just makes you the enemy first, his pupil second.” You explain and Rio gets his money out to pay ahead of you. 

“Keep it” he smiles, allowing you to pocket the money your father gave you for the errand.

“Rio-“ you object.

“Shh” he says before helping you bring the groceries to his car. You both second guess parking so far out for some privacy. Rio gets your door and you sit passenger side waiting for him to get in. He pulls off and you look at each other smiling before the blushing happens and you’re both filled with butterflies. Rio’s hand interlocks fingers with yours and he kisses thrm. “I’ll tell him” he relents.

“Thank you” , you sigh with relief.

“Then we can go places together and go on dates” you say with excitement.

“Where do you want to go first?” Rio asks and you relax against the headrest pondering the thought. Rio watches your eyes sparkle. He watches the thoughts roll through your head as he waits for the red light to turn green.

“Let’s go to the roller skating rink”

“No way I’m not busting my ass in front of you on our first date” Rio smiles.

“Where then?” You ask.

“Take you somewhere nice to eat so you can get all dressed up and I can show you off” Rio says with his priorities all over the place. You laugh.

“After you show me off?”

“A drive in, we can watch something scary so you have an excuse to be all over me” Rio proposes and you love it.

“No imagination” you sigh, acting like it’s a bad suggestion.

“I don’t care as long as you’re happy and I’m not busting my ass,” Rio concludes.

“What about an art class? I could look for something. A workshop activity we could do?” You ask obliterating Rio’s idea of romance which was everything he’d ever seen on television.

“If it makes you happy” Rio shrugs.

“Okay, I’ll find something” you smile, getting ahead of yourself.

The rest of the ride is short and you find your father waiting out front. He scrunches his face at the sight of Rio taking the bags of food from you.

“It’s all here” you tell your father.

“Christopher” your dad nods in acknowledgement.

“Sir” Rio nods.

“You staying for dinner? The boys aren’t back yet” Your dad says.

“I’d like to speak to you about something” Rio’s voice cracks a little.

“Sure” your dad says heading in to set down the groceries. You sigh watching from the kitchen as they talk outside. Maria, your father’s current fixation watches you like a hawk.

“Told you he likes you” she smiles. “Don’t work, I’ll convince your dad you should be allowed to date, if you try and get him to take me on a trip for my birthday. Three days away can go a long way” she comments, chopping up the produce.

“Why don’t we just make dinner like we said we would?” You ask peeling your eyes away from the outside window. She smiles hearing your dad’s voice raise.

“Kid has some balls” she scoffs as your heart races. He gets louder and she stops putting the knife down to head outside. You stay out of it wanting to speak to Rio but not wanting things to get worse. “Babe she’s a good kid, you should reward honesty. She’s not having sex and she wanted him to tell you. Be her hero not her warden. You can’t protect her from everything. If he messes up guess what, you’re still her dad, you can go off” Maria says reasoning with him.

“I like the kid. I don’t want to have to kill him. But that’s my baby girl” your father snaps.

________-

Authors Note: Testing, I wanted this to be longer but I haven't written teenage puppy love in so long I hope I did okay. This was supposed to be one long update but I had to break it up so you all could have something in relatively timely matter.

Let me know if you enjoyed it.

LIKE COMMENT & REBLOG

[raspberrybesitos]

mistletoe kisses | joel miller x f!reader

Main masterlist

Rating: M - 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2.6k

Summary: You decorate the Christmas tree with some help from Joel and Ellie.

Warnings: established relationship, post-outbreak, Jackson era, canon divergent bc nothing bad ever happens to them ever 😁, sickening fluff, pet names (honey, darlin’, baby, babydoll, etc), allusions to smut, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: surprise!!! i know i said this would be up on the 22nd, but i’ve got something else that will be up on saturday 🤭 and i just couldn’t stop thinking about giving this man a happy ending, including healing and starting new traditions with his family 😔 i wish joel was real 💔 anyway, i hope y’all enjoy! not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @/saradika

Grumbling, he treks behind you, snow crunching beneath his work boots as he cautiously lugs the saw in his hands.

You’re rambling about finding the perfect tree in front of him, Ellie asking a million questions about the tradition.

He hadn’t expected, intended, to find a partner in Jackson. That is until he saw you, lugging a heavy crate of harvested crops across the town, your wagon having been broken. Tommy had told him about you, how you were single.

“She’s sweet as pie, brother. She might be good for you. Real pretty too.” Joel recalls the conversation he had with Tommy before he stormed off to the barn.

His Southern hospitality lay dormant until he saw you struggling. The urge to help creeped up on him. His typical quite observant demeanor tossed out the window as he approached you.

“Need some help?” He asks.

You wipe your brow, huffing before laying your eyes on the broad, handsomely rugged man in front of you - it’s Tommy’s brother. His name escaping you briefly.

You beam. “Oh. Sure. Thank you…” you trail off, slightly off guard by his kind gesture. His large gloved hand extends out towards you.

“Joel,” he finishes your sentence. “Thank you, Joel,” your hand shaking his, giving him your name. It rolls off his tongue with a certain sweetness, sending a flurry of butterflies to swirl in your belly. You knew of him, but knew he was also not a man of many words. You had yet to make acquaintances with him and who you assume is his daughter.

“You’re Tommy’s brother right?” You curiously ask, attempting to make small talk as Joel grunts while picking up the crate.

“Yes ma’am.”

Smiling at his Southern drawl, you run to help him carry one side of the heavy crate, feeling bad letting him do all the work.

“Uh uh, what do you think you’re doin’?” He asks, brow raised as you both stop in your tracks. “Helping you,” you state. He chuckles, shaking his head as he begins to walk.

“I asked if you needed help, darlin’. ‘Sides, what kinda man would I be letting a pretty girl like you carry all this shit by herself? My momma would have me by the head, ‘s for damn sure.”

You open your mouth to detest the notion that women need any assistance from men, but he stops you before you can.

“‘N I know ya don’t need any help from any man. You women are tough as shit, met a lota you over the years. Jus’ wanna help, ‘s all.” He kindly explains. You don’t understand why he wants to help, why he’s approached you specifically.

You’re aware that he’s typically very reserved, not leaving his house if he doesn’t have to. You’ve heard things about his past, and Tommy having confided in you at times, but the world has gone to shit. Who are you to judge? Everyone’s done some horrible stuff to stay alive.

He’s also painfully handsome. Opting to not object to his help and company, you sigh.

“Well, at least let me take some of the vegetables,” you protest, grabbing bunches of carrots. He chuckles quietly.

“Sure thing, darlin’,” he mutters. The nickname catching you both by surprise as a sort of tension falls over you two.

Flashing him a grateful toothy grin, you gather the vegetables in your arms. He gives you a small smirk in return.

“So how are you liking Jackson? I don’t see you ‘round much,” you ask as you begin the trek to the dining hall.

“‘S good. Big change, learnin’ the ropes of patrol. Makin’ sure Ellie’s settlin’ in,” he states. “And Ellie’s…”

“My family,” he says firmly. You nod, internally assuming she’s not his biological daughter.

“Well, I hope you both settle in nicely.” He feels his heart soften at your kindness.

He thought you’d have shied away from him, that you’d have listened to what people are saying about him around town.

But you didn’t. You took to him kindly, warmly.

He’ll be damned if he told Tommy he was right about you, He’d never hear the end of it… but shit, was he right. You were so kind and open-minded, and so beautiful.

The both of you making small talk as you trek to the dining hall, Joel lugging the crate into the kitchen for prep as you follow behind. He places the crate on the floor with a grunt. You drop the carrots in the box afterwards.

Rising to his feet, he sighs as he wipes his hands on his jeans, you copying his actions.

“Thank you again, Joel. I really appreciate it,” you tell him again. “Ain’t no problem, darlin’.”

Silence fills the air, save for the clanging and clattering of utensils in the kitchen.

“Would you… would you like to have a drink sometime? As a, uh, form of repayment for helping me today,” you timidly ask. A small smile breaks out onto Joel’s face.

“You ain’t gotta repay me, darlin’. But I’d love to grab a drink with ya,” he says.

Smiling from ear to ear, you nod happily. “It’s a date,” you say, before slapping a hand over your mouth as your eyes go wide. “I-I’m sorry. It’s not a date, it doesn't have to be. I mean, u-unless you want-,” you nervously ramble before Joel cuts you off.

“‘S a date,” he rasps. A soft smile on both your faces. The rest is history.

He wouldn’t trade that moment for the world, as he’s got you by his side now. He just didn’t expect that drink to lead him to trudging through the woods in the freezing early morning to cut down a tree.

He’d much rather be sleeping right now on his day off, but he can never say no to his girls.

Making your way through the woods, you and Ellie wind through the path while Joel stands and watches. There aren’t many trees, but just enough to scour from.

Not seeing any you like, you continue to walk down the path. “What about this one?” Ellie asks, standing next to a fir no taller than Joel.

Your eyes light up, a sparkly smile illuminating your face.

“It’s perfect. Great find, Ellie!” You yelp, high fiving the girl who’s equally excited.

“Hey, Joel!” Ellie shouts through her hands, her cheeks rosy and nose frosted. He clambers through the trees, saw in hand with his signature scowl. “Find one?”

“Mhmm,” Ellie says while beaming, you nodding in agreement. Joel sighs as he begins to saw down the tree. The trunk’s not very thick, the branches skinny, but still full enough to mimick the times before.

It falls to the snow covered ground, you and Ellie taking a few steps back. Joel stomps over to it, hoisting it up over his shoulder.

“Thank you, honey,” you whisper against his ear before placing a kiss on his patchy beard. His body flushing hot red from heat despite the cold air.

“Sure thing, baby,” he says bashfully, smiling a smile only reserved for you. Lacing his fingers with yours, you walk hand-in-hand back to the house with Ellie rambling ahead of you, vibrating with excitement.

“Joel, could you move it a little to the left?” You ask, hands clasped together over your lips. Joel grunts, red in the face as he shoves the fir to the left.

“A little more, please?”

Another grunt.

“A liiiitttllleee more.”

With a sigh, he shoves it once more.

“Perfect!” You clap. Joel rises to his full height, groaning as his bones crack and ache. You stride to him, leaning in for a kiss.

He could never stay annoyed at you.

“Thank you, honey,” you mutter with a dopey grin. Joel mirrors your expression, wrapping his hands around your waist and pressing his lips against yours. A saccharine kiss, your fingers curling in his grays.

His heart flutters as you sigh into him, your contentment radiating through your chest and into his soul.

When the fuck did his heart ever flutter?

“You guys gonna do that all fucking day or what?!” Ellie shouts, cutting ribbon and twine for the decorations.

You both startle at the sound of her voice, jumping in Joel’s arms. Joel glares at Ellie as laughter bubbles over your lips.

“Sorry, Ellie,” you call out. “Seriously, thank you, honey,” you tell Joel with a pat on his broad chest.

“No problem, darlin’,” he says softly with a swift kiss to your forehead before releasing you from his grasp. Joel strides into the kitchen to heat up some milk, with you rushing over to Ellie who sits at the dining table with an array of supplies.

You’re so good with Ellie, so patient with her while gently explaining how to string the dried oranges on the twine. She gets the hang of it pretty easily, holding it up and beaming with pride. Your giddiness mirroring hers, praising her as you waltz into the kitchen with Joel.

Placing a chaste kiss to his cheek, you flit around him as you pop some kernels in a hot pan. Transforming them into popcorn to make more garlands, and working in comfortable silence alongside each other.

You dump the popcorn into a bowl, you place a tender kiss on his shoulder before returning to Ellie.

Joel feels warm, and it’s not from the heat of the stove.

He preps mugs of hot chocolate for all of you, the chocolate powder stale but still good - the novelty of the gesture still there and just as sweet.

Padding into the living room, the sight of you two making decorations at the table and placing them on the tree tugs at Joel’s heart strings. Remembering how he’d help Sarah decorate their tree every year. Swallowing his grief, he allows himself to enjoy this moment while remembering his daughter.

That’s something you’re teaching him - not to take moments, things, people for granted.

Despite the pain, he knows he’ll confide in you later tonight about it when you’re alone. He sets the mugs on the table, making you pop your head up to flash him a dazzling smile.

“Thank you, honey.”

“‘Course, baby,” he says with a wink. Your smile grows wider, Ellie looking up and rolling her eyes. She playfully gags, Joel smacking his lips as his smile morphs into a scowl.

“Knock it off, kid,” he scolds.

“You knock it off, old man. We’re working here, and you keep distracting my partner,” she retorts. He scoffs, rolling his eyes. You can’t help, but laugh at their banter.

“Sorry, Ellie. I promise I’m listening,” your laughter dissolving into giggles. Joel rolls his eyes before getting a fire going in the fireplace.

Standing back and taking in the scene playing out in front of him. Hot chocolate, a tree, decorations being strung upon it - how is this possible? What did he do to deserve this?

He shakes the thought from his head, not questioning the good thing – the very good thing – in front of him. Instead, he enjoys watching his girls flit around the tree.

Ellie excitedly attempts to place the makeshift star on the tree that she crafted out of some stray branches and extra paper she had in her sketch pad.

She can’t reach, being significantly shorter than the tree. Huffing in defeat, she shoots you a look - both of you thinking the same thing. She whips around, paper star in hand.

“Joel, wanna do the honors?” She asks, holding out the star. Joel swallows thickly, never having thought he’d be doing this again.

“Sure,” he softly says, taking the star from Ellie and setting it atop the tree. The three of you stand back, admiring your hard work in silence, as you tightly wrap your arms around Joel’s middle. He holds you tighter.

“Looks good,” he mumbles. You nod, soft smile on your face.

“Hell yeah, it does!” Ellie giddily yells before cutting off her next thought. “No way, is that hot chocolate?!” She shouts, rushing to the table to grab a mug.

“Yeah, careful kid, it’s still hot,” Joel warns, still wound up in your arms. Ellie blows caution to the wind as she gulps it down.

“Ellie, slow down! You’re gonna get a stomachache,” you scold lightly. “It’s hot chocolate! When the hell am I ever gonna come across this again?!”

“I’ll find some more, jus’ slow down! Gonna be all fuckin’ hopped up on sugar,” Joel begrudgingly says. Rolling her eyes, she glances at the clock. Her eyes bug out of her head.

“Shit! I told Cat I’d meet her at 6!” She shouts before gulping down the rest of her hot chocolate, slamming the mug on the table.

“Be back later!” She says, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Be back by 9!” Joel shouts. “Mhmm,” her tone dismissive. “I mean it, Ellie,” he warns.

“Sure thing, old man!” She says before reaching for the doorknob. “Ellie, 9 o’clock, okay?” You chime in, asking.

She turns around, taking in the both of you. “Okay,” she says with another roll of her eyes and an exasperated sigh before heading out the door. It slams shut, making you and Joel wince.

Joel rolls his eyes. “Girl don’t listen,” rubbing his face as he grumbles.

“She’s just excited, can you blame her? Besides, she’s safe here, Joel,” you say, comfortingly rubbing your hands up and down his broad flannel-covered chest.

“I know. Just still getting used to all this,” he rasps. The two of you still stand in the doorway, wrapped up in one another before a grin breaks out on your face.

“Oh, could you help me with one more thing?” You beam at him. His brow quirks up in confusion. “‘Course, baby. What do ya need?”

You unravel yourself from his embrace, padding into the kitchen. He hears you clambering, his curiosity peaking. You return with something behind your back, smiling wider now.

Whipping the sprig of mistletoe from behind your back, you hold it above your head. His features softening.

Joel immediately recognizes what you’re holding, beaming at your antics.

“Could you help me hang this up please?” You ask, drawing out the last syllable, batting your lashes at him with a sly smirk.

“Y’know, if ya wanted a kiss, all ya gotta do is ask, babydoll,” he rasps as he takes it from you, not missing the chance to place a teasing kiss on your cheek. Waves of heat run through you from head to toe.

Joel hangs the mistletoe with ease on a nail that’s been conveniently placed above the kitchen entryway, right where you’re both standing.

You must’ve put it up there when he was on patrol a few days ago.

The red ribbon you tied around the plant stands out against the dark framing, the fire crackles in the background and illuminates the house.

“Well would ya look at that,” his voice low and husky as he locks his gaze with yours. A goofy grin on your face. “Huh. Guess you gotta kiss me now.”

“Don’t need mistletoe for that, babydoll,” he whispers. The two of you connect your lips with each other’s. Sighing into him, you finally have a moment alone with him today. You card your fingers through his hair, a satisfied groan escapes him.

You pull away breathlessly, both yours and Joel’s eyes heavy and glazed over.

“Ya know… Ellie won’t be back til 9. We’ve got some time left,” you teasingly whisper in his ear while he places a kiss to your neck.

“Lead the way, darlin,” he rasps, the two of you rushing upstairs.

just felt like writing some tooth rotting fluff for my Joely, i love him sm 😔

i hope y’all enjoyed! 🫶🏼 thank you for reading 🩷

tag list: @gracieheartspedro @sapphic-gardn @undrthelights @javierpena-inatacvest @nostalxgic @party-hearses @mandoisapunk @tinygarbage @bastardmandennis @janaispunk @persephone-girl @harriedandharassed @its-nebuleuse

[ckret2]

I had just finished the first chapter of the Axolotl arc in WAIGLZ and reading the second.

Is he technically being a ghost ever going to come up past this arc to the other chapters in WAIGLZ later on?

Like,

"It was not like y o u were the one who viciously murdered me! I am mean technically your gruncles did not even kill a "living" being in the first place, according to s o m e people,

Bill shook his head, fanning away trillion year old resentment

-"you really think it was my first roadio? P l e a s e . So, try not beat yourself up about it kid, ok?"

Mabel looked up and stared at Bill.

"Wha- Huh??" Mabel said dumbfounded.

It would be crazy coolio to see it mentioned in the main fic.

Until I read your fic I never even thought about Bill being a spirit once, and now I feel rather silly wondering how he lived so long outside of his dimension :,)

Please have a truly wonderful day + happy holidays! ^ ^

Toodaloo!

I'm sure eventually it'll be mentioned again (I mean, for one thing, eventually we're gonna see the massacre) but probably not like that.

Like, Bill technically-being-a-ghost isn't some big secret or a major plot twist, and it doesn't fundamentally rewrite the rules around him and what he does. It's just what we see him do throughout canon.

He's a non-physical entity ("a being of pure energy!") that's apparently self-sustaining without needing sleep or food and impervious to injury and illness ("with no weakness!")

He's usually invisible to normal (living) people. He can possess people. He can move inanimate objects even though he can't physically interact with them. He can haunt dreams.

When he has the opportunity to make himself a body, he doesn't turn into something physical; his physical form is separate from him, and he can freely separate from it any time he wants.

This is mind-body dualism. Generally, mind-body dualism is a framework people use to express the idea that the spirit/soul is a separate entity from the body. The thing that's killed in Stan's mind is the spirit; the statue left behind is the body.

Meaning, before he had that body, he was spirit.

When he separates Dipper's spirit from his body in the exact same way Bill separates from his own body, he says, "Without a vessel to possess, you're basically a ghost!"

Bill usually doesn't have a vessel to possess.

Ergo: Bill's basically a ghost and he said so himself.

I haven't listed anything we didn't learn from Sock Opera and Weirdmageddon.

The ONLY question is "well BEFORE he was an energy being, did he have a physical body?" Whether he was born an energy being or became one later is in the realm of headcanon; and I suppose it's a matter of opinion if an energy being counts as a ghost if it's 100% identical to ghosts in every way except that it didn't previously have a physical body. You could argue that his eagerness to get a physical body the second he could implies he used to have one or was meant to have one, but that's speculation.

In every other way, he meets the criteria for a ghost the same way that tomatoes meet the criteria for berries. But when someone tells you "tomatoes are berries," it doesn't teach you anything new about tomatoes. You already knew tomatoes have berry-like traits, you just assumed they were disqualified because they're too big or too unsweet or too vegetably, and now you know they aren't disqualified.

So like—putting that word on him doesn't change anything about Bill. You've learned nothing new. The characters around him would learn nothing new. It's not a plot twist or massive character revelation; it's just a background fact that gets mentioned when it's relevant.

[knoepfl]

Sweets Aren’t Enough

Characters: L Lawliet x Reader (You)

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Slight Hurt/Comfort

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of unhealthy eating habits, stress, exhaustion, and slight depictions of poor self-care.

Masterlist

Words: 1096

Author’s Note:

Hey, lovelies! This fanfiction is for anyone who loves the idea of caring for L and reminding him that he’s human too, even if he doesn’t always treat himself that way. Expect lots of fluff, a bit of exasperation, and a tiny kiss for those romantic feels. I hope you enjoy reading this! If you relate to any of the topics mentioned in the trigger warnings, take care of yourself and remember it’s okay to need rest, food, and love. You deserve it!

---

The glow of computer monitors filled the darkened room as the hum of L’s investigation team buzzed around him. He sat, as usual, with his knees pulled to his chest on the swivel chair, black eyes glued to the screen. Empty teacups, cake plates, and candy wrappers cluttered the desk, but he seemed oblivious to the mess—his mind too focused on tracking Kira.

You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching him with concern. How long had he been sitting there, motionless, aside from the occasional flick of his finger across the keyboard? Days, probably. L's narrow frame already looked thinner than the last time you’d seen him. His face was paler, his dark circles deeper, and from the way he slouched slightly, you could tell fatigue was creeping in.

Enough was enough. You couldn’t watch him do this to himself anymore.

"L," you called softly, stepping into the room. He didn’t look away from the monitor, but you caught the slight shift in his shoulders—he knew you were there.

"Hmm?" L’s voice was low, distracted. His gaze never left the scrolling data in front of him, fingers tapping keys like a pianist lost in a symphony.

You walked closer, determined. "When was the last time you had a real meal?"

“I had cake a few hours ago,” he replied matter-of-factly, finally glancing at you with his wide, unreadable eyes.

“That doesn’t count, L,” you said, exasperated. “You can’t live on sweets forever.”

His lips curled into a small, amused smile, as if he found the concept of needing anything beyond sugar and caffeine entirely unnecessary. "I function perfectly fine like this."

You knelt beside him, resting a hand on his knee to get his full attention. "But you’re not fine. You look exhausted. And no, cake isn't a meal."

He blinked, his head tilting slightly. It was always difficult to tell what L was thinking, but you knew him well enough to notice the flicker of acknowledgment behind his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he whispered, though there was no real conviction behind his words. You sighed and stood up, brushing the dust off your knees.

"Stay here. I’m making you something, and you’re going to eat it—no excuses."

Without waiting for a response, you left the room and headed to the kitchen. You knew L could be stubborn, but so could you. He needed proper food, and you were determined to give it to him.

Twenty Minutes Later

The smell of sautéed vegetables and herbs filled the small kitchen. You kept it simple: rice, a bowl of miso soup, grilled salmon, and some lightly seasoned greens. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was nutritious—something L’s body desperately needed after days of sugar highs and crashes.

As you plated everything, you heard the familiar sound of bare footsteps padding toward the kitchen. You turned to see L standing in the doorway, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, watching you quietly.

“You left your screen,” you teased with a smile. “That’s progress.”

“I came to observe your cooking,” he said in his usual monotone, though you detected the faintest hint of curiosity in his gaze.

“Well, the food is ready.” You pulled out a chair at the small dining table. “Sit.”

For a moment, L just stood there, looking at the chair like it was a foreign object. Then, slowly, he lowered himself onto it, mimicking his usual crouch with his knees pulled up.

You placed the plate in front of him, along with the bowl of soup, and sat down across from him. "Go on. Eat."

He stared at the meal as if it were an enigma, picking up his chopsticks with his fingers awkwardly pinched. L’s diet was so limited to sweets that real food seemed almost alien to him.

You smiled softly. “If you eat it all, I’ll make you dessert.”

That caught his attention. A tiny spark lit in his dark eyes, and he hesitantly took a small bite of the salmon. You watched as he chewed slowly, clearly not used to savory flavors, but you could tell he didn’t dislike it.

“See? Not so bad, right?” you said, propping your chin in your hand.

L swallowed and gave a tiny nod. "It is… acceptable."

“That’s high praise coming from you.” You grinned, relieved that he was at least trying. “Now finish the rest.”

L continued eating, albeit slowly. His hands were clumsy with the chopsticks, and his movements lacked the same precision he used when typing away on his computer. But he ate—piece by piece, spoonful by spoonful—and you couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection watching him.

When he finally finished the meal, L set his chopsticks down and stared at the empty plate as if surprised by his own actions. You chuckled softly, leaning over to ruffle his already messy hair.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

L tilted his head, his eyes meeting yours with that familiar, unreadable gaze. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

Your heart warmed at the rare show of gratitude. L wasn’t the kind of person to express emotions openly, but moments like these—small and subtle—meant everything.

You stood up and began to clear the dishes, but L’s hand reached out, lightly brushing your wrist. “You promised dessert.”

You laughed. "Right. I did, didn’t I?"

Later That Evening

The two of you sat on the couch, a small slice of strawberry shortcake resting between you. L picked at it slowly, savoring each bite with the kind of focus he usually reserved for cracking cases.

He looked more relaxed now, his posture less rigid, his expression softer. You nestled closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. L stiffened slightly at the contact but didn’t pull away. After a moment, his arm shifted, wrapping around you in a hesitant but deliberate motion.

You tilted your head up slightly, close enough to feel the soft warmth of his breath. He hesitated, his dark eyes flickering with uncertainty, but you gave him a reassuring smile. Slowly, L leaned down and pressed a delicate kiss to your lips—a fleeting, gentle moment that felt like a promise.

When he pulled back, his gaze lingered on yours, as if studying your expression to understand this new, unfamiliar feeling.

“Thank you,” he whispered again.

You smiled, brushing a lock of hair from his face. “Anytime, L.”

And you meant it. No matter how brilliant he was, L would always need someone to remind him that he wasn’t alone—and you would gladly be that person.

---

Author’s Note:

Thank you so much for reading! I loved writing this soft, comforting moment with L. If you enjoyed it, feel free to leave feedback! Remember, taking care of yourself—like eating proper meals and resting—is important, even if life gets busy. Just like L, you deserve love and care too!

[derww]

Three small oneshots written on keys from people. First, @mapicccc and TA going groccery shopping, second, @happy-mountain-goats and Subz fixing his wings (apologize in advance for the errors/inaccuracies in the anatomical details), third, @nivalulu and 4C doing small differences.

***

– No, – Zam says sterntly, suddenly perhaps even to himself, as he throws a frozen pizza out of the cart. Mapicc rolls his eyes like he's dealing with a small child.

– Okay, genius. Then you choose. Just hurry up, we've been here for half an hour already.

– No problem, – Zam goes to the shelves and – as if completely at random – pulls out a package of frozen vegetable yakisoba.

– Absolutely not, – Mapicc snaps, – there's not even meat in there! I'm going to starve!

– There was no meat on the pizza either, – Zam retorts, waving the box.

– There was pepperoni in there! – Mapicc crosses his arms over his chest, determined to stand his ground. – It counts!

– It's not, – Zam continues to bicker, but he is stopped by a package of mac&cheese hitting him in the temple. He catches it, rubbing the bruised spot with his other hand and swearing under his breath, and then throws it back. Spoke catches it and mockingly puts it into the cart. He is sitting in the place where small children were usually put – with his height, his feet almost touch the floor – and is clearly laughing at their silly squabbles.

– You don't have to eat the same thing, you assholes, – Spoke chuckles, – it doesn't matter – in short, just throw anything, otherwise, we'll be yelling here until closing time. By the way, where is Ro? Terry! – He waves his hand aggressively, and Terry, who is a few meters away from them collecting an obscene number of pastry bags, turns around and bows his head in a silent question, – Terry, find Ro, we've lost him again!

– I think we all know where Ro is right now, – Terry replies with a giggle, dropping everything into their shared cart, – but I can go and take him, of course, – he yawns, – we can't send Mapicc or Zam to this. Zam will get lost, Mapicc will crash into a shelf.

– I'm not that hopeless! I'll find a way back! – Zam objects, but Terry shakes his head and slowly disappears around the corner.

– At least pretend you have something in your brain, – Mapicc mutters irritably, randomly throwing several more random boxes and freezer bags into the cart and pushing it forward in the direction Terry has gone.

– Who would say that! – Zam is indignant, catching up with him, – It was a terrible idea, next time I'm going alone.

– If you go alone, you'll only bring juice, a pack of chocolate croissants, and a half–eaten chipotle burrito!

– Last time you brought sriracha and 32 sausages! Who eats this for a week in a row!

– Relax, – Spoke drawled, – let's not argue about little things.-

Mapicc stops, and Spoke, too lanky for his position, almost falls out.

– You weren't given the right to vote, – he says, – you brought five original monsters last time we've asked you to buy shit. What is there to eat, the jar itself?

– Great breakfast! – Spoke answers calmly, giving Mapicc a thumbs–up and kicking him in the knee, – I don't know what you don't like about it... – he hurriedly turns around and, noticing something, starts shouting, - hey, Ro! - at first it looks like he's trying to distract their attention, but in the distance there really is a familiar figure looming. Ro holds a half-filled shopping basket in his hand. To his left is Terry, who has clearly regretted agreeing to go with them a hundred times.

– Hello, people, – once at an acceptable distance, Ro waves at them, – are you still arguing? Who should I calm down? Has anything been trashed yet?

When Ro gets even with them, Zam immediately reaches in with his hands into the shopping basket.

– Well, I can understand that, – he picks up tomatoes and sweet peppers without any pretense, – at least someone in this circus thought of bringing some vegetables... Also no questions, – a bag of spinach, celery, bananas, – let's say fine, but you'll be the only one eating it, – edamame, some hummus, – why the fuck do you need so much turmeric? – Ro shrugs his shoulders, and Zam rolls his eyes, but approves. – Is there at least someone in our house who drinks it? – a liter of soy milk, – I'll confiscate it, if you decide to get drunk, suffer for yourself, I have to put up with you all anyway, – he takes off a box of alka-seltzer, to which Ro squints suspiciously, and Mapicc says something remotely obscene... – my God, why do you need twenty-one ounces of olives? – Zam looks dumbfounded, first at the cans, then at Ro. Ro spreads his hands.

– He likes olives and eats them, – Mapicc calmly informs and shrugs his shoulders, – it's not for you to object. It's strange that you didn't know.

– It's all bullshit! – Zam objects, - he'd rather pour them down someone's neck than actually eat them!

– I'll go buy some bread and eggs, – Terry informs them meekly, but his words are drowned out by the hubbub of an argument starting again.

***

Okay, the problem is, his wings have been on the verge of breaking for a fucking eternity, but it's not like he could just take them off. Frankly, he had no idea how to solve the tangle of lost magic without ripping off his own spine. When he was sculpting the spell, he was sculpting hard and forever, and you couldn't fly on a Lifesteal anyway... before.

And, okay, the bases of his wings were in a mess, too, of course, but oh, well, not that he could do anything about it. The last time he checked, there wasn't any major damage, so it wasn't important anyway. To his personal surprise, his hind wings in general were not seriously injured in any way, only worn and torn at a couple of edges.

Do I really have to deal with this, he asks himself. It wasn't that important. They still will last a decent amount of time. And even if he falls in the middle of the flight, it's not a big problem. At last... He rolls his eyes and sighs. Friend agrees with him, humming approvingly. Well, or so it seems to him.

First, he has to make all the tools, because of course he doesn't have the right ones – he wanders in circles through the chaos of his base from side to side and over and over and over until he has everything he needs – or a replacement that will do. A brush has to be made very soft and delicate, small and fluffy, and then his hand cramps for half a day from small work, all sharp corners are cut off from the planed stick, leaving a smooth but thin tip, and the formula for the adhesive material is based on water and made as non-toxic as possible... At least he thinks it came out non-toxic... Well, if it didn't work out, then he'll realize the mistake when he can't fly. Or get a couple of chemical burns. Or get poisoned and die. What a cool perspective to have!

At least there is a directional lamp of the right brightness, and that's how he unfolds everything, in the middle of the corridor, holding onto the part of the hind wings that he can reach: first, he cleans off all the dust and dirt with a brush with unbearable care, first wet, and then dry. Some of the debris refuses to move away, and in the middle of the process he has to build forceps and, swearing under his breath, wield them as well. His hands can't reach everything, but something is better than nothing, and the elytras obviously turn out to be much easier to clean – denser and clearer, they soon turn out to be in an acceptable form. He refuses to reach the inside.

It's even more difficult with glue: apply it to the gap with slow movements – hey, and why did he kill the ancient god at all, if even his wings are tearing – and, having fixed it in the right position, leave it alone. There don't seem to be any symptoms of toxic shock. For now.

He's already putting everything together to put it in a corner and not see it for another hundred years when he hears a block breaking – almost a knock on the door when you live in an underground base without a normal entrance. Well, or breaking in with a chainsaw, if it's an enemy. With the garbage in his arms, he turns around only to see Red. Both of his hands are busy, so he just nods.

– Hi, dear friend. – Red drawls. – And what are you doing here?

He shrugs his shoulders disinterestedly.

– I was fixing the wings. They've been worn out all this time.

– So you can take them off? – Red wonders, – then why do you go everywhere with them?

Subz rolls his eyes.

– No, I can't, – he says, bored. – I fixed the part that I can reach.

– Well, – Red says dramatically, – it's a matter of your safety, Subz! You clearly need the help of a friend who will do you a favor in this difficult and painstaking task!

He makes a face and sighs.

– Yes, yes, of course, my friend Reddoons, – he mutters and resigns himself to the fate.

***

4C is familiar to people here as someone who is simple... exists. He doesn't hold grudges, doesn't maintain bad relationships, goes about his business, and lets the others do the same, and tunnel rats smile when they see him and pass him candies in gratitude to the founding captain. People don't attack him in battles, they don't bother him with arguments, they don't see any threat or danger in him, and he takes full advantage of it. He appears here and there, invisible in his routes, never having anything planned, and people shrug their shoulders and perceive him a little better than the moving element of the interior.

Sometimes it seems to him that he really is some kind of ghost: he cleans the bedroom and hall of the FOCUS base, not forgetting to change the linen and put fresh flowers in the vases, he takes care of the trees at the spawn and decorates the buildings for the holidays, he puts an elytra in the Spacewaffles chest and leaves three copper swords with colored handles in the chest in the tunnels, he waters the valley of daisies and wipes discs lying there from the dust.

He feeds pandas with bamboo and cats with raw tuna, he cleans empty houses and lights candles in churches, and he repairs doors and greases bolts. He lures wardens away from busy places and leaves them in ravines and gorges. He collects items from the corpses and leaves them in chests.

He builds a house at Zaun: he has to choose a simpler design, but it's still nice. Maybe one day I'll really be able to live here, he thinks with warm sadness, leaving only a crafting table inside. On the sign at the entrance, he writes: Home.

In 4C, there is no desire to be a good person, both for himself and for others, he is an invisible man, devoted to the grave, a worthy tunnel rat and keeper of secrets, someone who has laid down his life to avoid conflicts with people, not someone with at least some good or heartfelt motives, but something motivates him to continue. Sometimes he plants a new daisy, and it fills the void in him, sapling by sapling.

[mcflymemes]

PRIDE & PREJUDICE PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the 2005 film

you must know... surely, you must know it was all for you.

are you out of your senses?

we've been nonsensical!

i have struggled in vain and i can bear it no longer.

are you rejecting me?

did i just agree to dance?

makes it all so much more enjoyable, don't you think?

you really do love him, don't you?

i appreciate the struggle you have been through, and i am very sorry to have caused you pain.

you're wasting your time with me.

count your blessings.

don't look at me like that!

only the deepest love will persuade me into matrimony.

i'm very fond of walking.

no, i prefer to be unsociable and taciturn.

may i have the next dance?

these past few months have been a torment.

i wonder who first discovered the power of poetry in driving away love?

my brother gave it to me.

i have never been thus treated in my entire life.

do you talk, as a rule, while dancing?

so this is your opinion of me.

i had to see you.

it's been many years since i had such an exemplary vegetable.

oh, believe me, no one would suspect your manners to be rehearsed.

i've been so blind.

i've come to tell you the news.

oh, very well then.

i must ask you to leave immediately.

you have insulted me in every possible way.

not all of us can afford to be romantic.

i could not have parted with you to anyone less worthy.

i will never see you again if you do.

he looks miserable, poor soul.

yes. a thousand times yes.

i will not and certainly never shall.

i thought that poetry was the food of love.

you are too generous to trifle with me.

all of these things i am willing to put aside and ask you to end my agony.

there's a lot to be thankful for.

don't you dare judge me.

i don't understand.

thank you for explaining so fully.

now tell me once and for all: are you engaged to him?

if your feelings are still what they were last april, tell me so at once.

have you no objection other than your belief in my indifference?

believe me, it was unconsciously done.

what a shame, for i dearly love to laugh.

and those are the words of a gentleman.

my affections and wishes have not changed, but one word from you will silence me forever.

you have bewitched me, body and soul, and i love... i love... i love you.

i love you.

i cannot tease you about that.

forgive me for taking up so much of your time.

how are you this evening, dear?

is this your reply?

they are far too easy to judge.

i do not have the talent of conversing easily with people i have never met before.

i thought you hated the man.

will that make you happy?

we're doing our best to find a fault in you.

i never wish to be parted from you from this day on.

i wish you would not call me "my dear."

perhaps you should take your aunt's advice and practice?

what endearments am i allowed?

please, do be seated.

one of these days, someone will catch your eye and then you'll have to watch your tongue.

people do not die of colds.

i was wrong. i was entirely wrong.

are you too proud? and would you consider pride a fault or a virtue?

this is a charming house.

i am well acquainted with you.

please do me the honor of accepting my hand.

what do you recommend to encourage affection?

what should i call you when i am cross?

are you... are you laughing at me?

i can admire you much better from here.

shall i call for some tea?

i cannot believe that anyone can deserve you.

i love you. most ardently.

good day. it's been a pleasure.

i have no idea.

did you walk here?

let us take a turn about the room.

it is a small kind of accomplishment, i suppose.

will you not join us?

i've never seen so many pretty girls in my life.

she is the most beautiful creature i have ever beheld.

why do you ask such a question?

what have you discovered?

we are all fools in love.

i have other reasons. you know i have.

i do not deny it.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Andy [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Word count: 2.7k

summary: you and Spencer have to learn to deal with grief without losing your marriage in the process.

warnings: grief, death, angst with unhappy ending, separation, divorce, alcoholism, minor details of a murder, two totally different points of view (don't hate Spencer or the reader)

The set of keys jangled in Spencer's hands, who was struggling to open the door without dropping the shopping bags in his other hand. He tried to do the shopping with only healthy and non-hazardous things and lately he had started bringing some of your favorite sweets, hoping this might cheer you up in some way. 

When he entered, he assumed that you were asleep, as always, so he thought of going directly to the kitchen to place the food in the corresponding spaces, thinking that maybe after that he would clean up the place a bit. He never expected to find you sitting in the dining room and both of you were startled to see the opposite. There was half a bottle of wine in front of you, you were puffy-eyed and carefully holding a photo that Spencer recognized perfectly. He noticed that you had lost some weight and you noticed the same characteristic in him, coupled with the marked bags under his eyes that evidenced the lack of rest. But in fairness, he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in a while.

"What are you doing here?"

“I brought groceries,” he reported, though it was obvious. Spencer reached over to the fridge to rearrange things and he noticed that almost all of last week's food were there. The milk was out of date, some of the vegetables were blackened, and there were a couple of bottles of alcohol that he definitely hadn't bought for you but always turned up there. He brought the garbage can closer and began to get rid of the rotten food, replacing it with the contents of the bags. "You have to eat something, there are things in here that you didn't even touch."

“And that's why I insist that you don't bring so much. Don't waste your money”

“It's not about the money. It's about you” he said in a stern voice and when he turned to look at you, he noticed that you weren't even looking at him.

He continued to organize things in the fridge while out of the corner of his eye he watched you take occasional gulps straight from the bottle. Before, it was the task of both of you to put the purchases in the cupboards and it had become a habit, because he liked to make you suffer with the high spaces of the cupboard just to accommodate things himself and take the opportunity to steal a kiss, which you always complained about.

He was so lost in memories that he couldn't understand you when you muttered something and then he asked you to repeat it.

"We promised to take him to Disneyland," you said, your slurred words a clear sign of drunkenness. You were holding a picture of Andy's 6th birthday: he was blowing out the candles while you and Spencer held him on either side, grinning from ear to ear. You had bought some green party hats, Andy's favorite, for the three of you to wear and the cake was a dinosaur, your son's absolute obsession “Somehow he found out they were going to have a Cretaceous world attraction and he was dying to go. We told him that when we had vacations, we would take him and to comfort him we bought him an illustrated book."

He perfectly remembered what you were telling him and a lump formed in his throat. That book was kept carefully on the small shelf in his room, along with the figures that multiple people had given him and with which he loved to play, since neither of you had had the heart to move a single object that was there.

Spencer was silent because he simply didn't know how to respond to what you had just reminded him, but he couldn't help but his stomach turned at the thought of your little boy. Although two months had passed, he hadn't even allowed himself to talk about what happened, and very rarely did he think about your son. Not because he didn't want to do it, but because he felt that if he did, things were going to completely collapse and he wasn't in a position to let that happen, not when he had so many responsibilities to fulfill.

Receiving no response, you tried to drink again, but Spencer didn't take more than a second to cross over to you to take the wine from your hands.

"Stop"

"Give it to me," you defended, standing up to try to take your drink back, but he held it just far enough out of your reach.

"You cannot continue that way"

"That's none of your business"

“Of course it is. You are my wife and I care about you."

Spencer hated the way you looked at him since that night. He felt that you were looking at him with contempt, as if he wasn't even worth your eyes on him, as if you had stopped loving him completely. And now you were looking at him like that while he was holding the alcohol you'd been drowning in for the past few weeks. 

"I don't need your pity" you practically spat, standing in front of him, but at a safe distance.

He didn't want to answer anything, for fear of hurting you in some way, so he just went to the sink to start emptying the contents of the bottle. Of course you squealed in offense at what he was doing and just headed for the fridge to get something else to drink, but before you could Spencer got in the way.

"You need help" he murmured, with a tone that reflected nothing more than the desperation he was going through. You looked at him, from below, with the same disdain that completely broke his heart "You are not okay"

"How do you expect me to be okay? I lost my son"

"He was our son," he said, suddenly sounding quite angry. It was so rare for him to get angry, much less when it came to you, but these two months had been too much to bear "Do you think I don't suffer the same as you?"

"No, I honestly don't think so. We never talked about this, Spencer, we just cried profusely at the funeral and then you carried on like nothing happened. All this time you have seemed so calm that I doubt very much that it will affect you”

“You are so wrong. You don't even know what you're talking about. Do you think it's easy for me? I have to go and work in a place where I see murderers and dead bodies all the time so that both of us can eat, pay the mortgage and basically keep our economy afloat because you decided to sink into depression and drink like a barrel without background"

“Oh, do you really want to talk about addiction problems? Because I don't think you're the best fit for that."

"Unlike you, I have not relapsed"

"Okay, then forgive me for being a weak dueling drunk."

“It's not about that, it's about the fact that you don't want anyone to help you. I hired a therapist that you decided not to go to, I have bought you everything you need in recent weeks, I have even stopped sleeping in my own house, all so that you feel calm”

"I never asked you for that, don't justify with it the fact that you wanted to leave"

"Well, maybe I left because every time I come here to check on you, you ignore me and look at me as if it was all my fault"

"Maybe it was"

"What did you say?"

"I said maybe it was" you exclaimed, now a little louder to make sure he heard you. You didn't mean any of that, you really didn't, it was just all the alcohol speaking for you “It was yours and it was my fault that man took our son from us. We should have done more"

“How, Y/N? Please explain to me how you want that, because I honestly don't understand you."

"Well maybe I should have been a better mother, because if I had been I should be dead instead of him" at this point it was useless to try to stop your crying. You were tired, dizzy, and hurt. You just wanted the whole nightmare to end “Spencer that man killed Andy just because you provoked him and you know it perfectly. He wanted revenge on you and decided that the best way to do it was to kidnap an innocent child and then kill him and then simply throw him on the side of the road. He could have hidden the body, but he wanted you to find it. He wanted us both to know that we couldn't question him like that without suffering the consequences."

"And that's why you see me as the cause of all your suffering?" tears had also started to roll down the man's cheeks, who was just as bad at holding them back as you were “Y/N I had to go identify Andy's body. I had to see him in a morgue, bruised and…” suddenly his voice broke completely. He had never told you things because he didn't want to stress you out anymore, but he felt that after everything that was happening there was no point in continuing to protect you “I barely knew it was him. He was completely deformed, I only recognized him by that scar he got on his knee when he fell from the swings and as soon as my fingers passed through it and felt the frozen skin I was completely destroyed. I had… I had to see my little boy in that state just so we both would have peace and yet you dare to say that I don't care."

“If you didn't have that job none of this would have happened to begin with! That has always been the problem, that as a family we had to compete with your work as a profiler”

"So you expected me to give up my life's work overnight?"

"I did. I quit my job to be able to raise our son.”

"And I had to stay in mine to be able to give him everything he needed"

“And look at us now. What of that did we do well? We weren't good parents and now I don't even think we're a good couple”

You two knew that this conversation was useless. You always knew Spencer went to superhuman lengths to spend time with your family, and you couldn't blame him for anything. He knew everything you had given up to take care of the housework and raise Andy. And when there were bad days, you were there for each other, but at that very moment you weren’t thinking straight. Your judgment was clouded by the pressing pain that was building up.

 “Y/N, why are you doing this to me?” his voice sounded so sincere and wounded, that even with the unconsciousness caused by the alcohol you felt a pull in your heart. Spencer was silent for a moment, a lump in his throat, and when he finally got up the courage he spoke again, “When Andy died I thought… I was devastated. I am devastated. But even with everything I thought that… I thought that I still had you. I thought together we could get through this and now you're telling me you're not even sure this is working. I try to take care of you, but you refuse to eat, you refuse to go to a therapist, you drink and sleep all day and I don't know what else to do."

"I just want you to be here, Spencer."

"I am"

"No, it's not true"

“I am supporting you, I do everything in my power to make sure you are well”

“But I don't want you to take care of me like someone sick, I just want you to be my husband! I just want you to stop pretending nothing is happening, just sit here and cry with me... I don't want you to support me, I want you to love me”

Both of you looked at each other for a second, your vision blurred by accumulated tears.

“Every day I wake up and I am strong just because I love you. You are the one who seems to no longer love me"

How could things work when the two of you offered such different things and needed such different things? Spencer thought you didn't love him anymore, you thought he didn't love you anymore, and neither of you knew what to do about it. You wanted him to be there but not the way he did and that's why you pushed him away. He walked away because he thought you didn't want him with you anymore.

But those were things none of you understood, and probably no one could. Mourning was a complicated, heartbreaking, but above all confusing process.

And, as much as he evaded reality, Spencer knew that it was a matter of time before you two broke up permanently. He knew the statistics; he knew that a large number of couples divorced after the death of a child and the numbers were more decisive than his hopes of maintaining the marriage with you. So, if these were the conversations you guys were having at one of the few times you saw each other, perhaps the threat of disbandment was closer than he imagined.

Suddenly the ringing of your husband's phone rang and you could tell by the look on his face what kind of text it was.

"A case" you guessed bitterly "It's always a case, right?"

A part of you desperately hoped that he would ignore the message, come up to you with an apology, and tell you that he would stay right there with you. But the utopian version your mind created didn't look like the real situation at all, where he just gave you a pained look from behind those teary eyes.

"I promise I'll be back. I'll come and… we can talk about all this when we're calmer. We can try to fix it, things don't have to be that way."

“But that's how they are,” you muttered, shrugging, as another message rang on Spencer's phone.

You wanted to tell him that if he really wanted to make things right with you he'd send the FBI to hell and stay there to talk, but you held back because you simply thought it was useless to do that. You were tired, so you were just going to let it go; you told him to come back whenever he wanted, without much interest in when that would be, and new dizziness hit your head from the decision you had just made.

You didn't push him away when he approached to hold your face, with a softness that surprised you, and he left you a kiss on the forehead, one of those you'd received thousands of but now it felt so strange to share.

The case dragged on into the next day, and the entire time Spencer pondered your words. Maybe he was right about some things, but you are right about others too. Perhaps if you tried to understand each other things could improve and if both of you reached an agreement little by little you would return to being a married couple and not just two people going through the loss of a child. It was worth stopping avoiding the problem and facing it to be able to be not only with you, but also for you. 

When he got home, the silence made him think that you were resting, and he still wanted to be able to lie next to you to simply hug you without saying anything. In a matter of a few seconds, so many nights passed through his mind in which he had loved you, in which you had feared and he had protected you, and those in which you had been immensely happy talking for hours until the sun bathed your face. You hadn't shared a decent kiss since Andy's funeral and suddenly the need to taste your lips became urgent, not to satisfy itself but to tell you how much he loved you. He had been an idiot these months, too busy not to break down to realize what was falling around him.

But upon reaching the room and turning on the light, all his hopes were shattered by a half-empty closet, a bed without you and a letter resting on the nightstand.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14

[anyamaris]

Easy Mode

Word Count-3789

Summary- Complete the quest...? What kind of adventure was this?

Pairing- Mingi x f!reader

Trope-Adventure AU

Warnings- Vulgarity, unprotected sex (wrap it up), overstimulation, Mingi has a big cock, dirty talk, mild restraining (using his hands/body)MINORS DNI 18+

Tags- @cultofdionysusnet @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @yoonguurt @shinestarhwaa @babesindestroyland @lemonhongjoong @stardragongalaxy @kpop-stories-21 @thelargefrye @kwanisms @sanjoongie

Library of Illusions Masterlist here.

Tysm @cafekitsune for the banner below!

As you pass through the rows upon rows of books, you can't help but feel a tingle of excitement as you read "Adventure". You always loved adventure stories growing up, and you were actually on your own adventure right now.

Of all of the genres, your brain ran rampant at the thought of what awaited you. Pirates on the high sea? Lost in a jungle, looking for treasure? Climbing a mountain to get to the peak?

You smile as you go to grab a thick novel but then a small, thin book falls to the floor in front of you. Frowning you pick it up, accidentally letting it fall open in your hands.

"Oh fu-"

Sunlight warmed your skin as you sit up, rubbing at your eyes. The smell of grass and springtime assailed your senses. All around you was fields of grain, and other random vegetables and fruits.

You inhale the fresh air, standing up and dusting off your clothing. You'd woken up beside a dirt road, and you finally spot a small village in the distance. As you take a step, suddenly a small screen appears in front of you.

"What the..." you mutter, focusing on it. It was a small screen, much like you'd see in a video game. But this was a book? The words on it read:

Objective-Speak to the villagers.

That was it. Nothing else. Shrugging, you sigh, trudging towards the tiny houses.

After what seems like longer than it should have been, you approach the people there. As you draw closer, you notice they are about a foot shorter than you and they were busy hustling around, with small wagons, or baskets of food items.

Approaching, some stop and stare at you, hesitant. You put your hands up at their wary eyes and smile. "Good afternoon...I um....seem to be lost and I was wondering if you could help direct me....?" you start, not exactly sure what else to say. The quest wasn't giving you many details.

An older woman, by the looks of her greying hair and wrinkled eyes as she smiled, approaches you. "Where ye be headin, pretty lady?" she asks, hefting her basket up against her hip as she studies you.

"I am unsure, but I've been traveling for awhile now and I was wondering..." you think momentarily, and then inspiration strikes. "I am just passing through and was looking for food and shelter...but I have no coin. Would there be any jobs that need to be done to receive either payment or a warm bed and food for the night?"

You'd played countless games so you decided to treat this like one, given the whole quest screen thing. This could be exciting, maybe you needed to slay a dragon or rescue a princess!

The small woman eyes you, seeming to decide you were harmless then nods, spitting to the side. "There be a task, for sure. Mayhap you could earn your stay."

Smiling, you thank her and then your quest screen pops up once more.

Objective-Speak to the Villagers COMPLETE!

New Objective-Accept the quest.

Following the woman to what looks to be an inn or tavern of sorts, you are guided to a small wrinkled man behind the counter.

"She be wantin to stay this eve...and take on some work for her keep." she nods at him, and he grunts, clearing his throat. He studies you much the same as the woman, taking in your appearance.

"I won't be askin ye how ye got here, but if yer willin to help with our...neighbor....I can give ye a warm bed and some stew to warm yer belly."

"Ok, you just let me know where to go and I'll go do what needs to be done!" you say enthusiastically. The man just nods, pulling out a piece of parchment.

"This 'ere be the map to the cave o'er the hill to the west. Could ye go chase off the beast that done took up livin there for us?" he asks and you look over the map as you take it from him.

"A beast? Do you know what kind of beast?" you frown down at it. It's a very crudely drawn picture, mostly with an arrow pointing to the left and a circle around where he wanted you to go. This is like a children's drawing, you think, sighing.

"He be huge, hulkin'! He done skerred off our game and lurks in the shadows!" he says, his eyes darting around. Excited you nod at his description. I'll just have to get some kind of weapon and go for it! you think, smiling.

"I'll do it!" you say and set out of the tavern, deciding to see what the distance was for this map. You could walk over the hill and see if you could even see the cave from a distance.

Objective- Accept the quest COMPLETE!

New Objective- Deal with the beast to bring peace back to the villagers

What you hadn't expected was to walk about 20 minutes up the hill, to crest it and see the cave about 100 meters in front of you. What the actual.....

Shaking your head, you trudge forward, slowly wondering if this was even going to be hard. You could just drive whatever creature it was off with the stick you'd grabbed along the way.

Finally reaching the cave, you are shocked to see the remnants of a fire pit, along with some makeshift tools fashioned out of wood and rock.

Venturing into the dark cave, you see it's not large at all. Nor is it empty. You take in the crude bed with hay and some rough fabric, a badly built chair that was broken and a few....books?

What in the world was going on? you think before you hear a crunch behind you. Spinning around with your stick at the ready, you are completely unprepared for the sight in front of you.

Instead of a large hulking beast you are faced with....

Well he was definitely large. Maybe even hulking.....

Your eyes scan the giant man...yes he was a man. He was shirtless and wet, eyeing you warily as he sets down his pail and the pieces of wood under his arm. Running his hand through his hair, he gives you a moment to take in his form.

He was tall and lean, but very...very fit. His thighs were hugged by some kind of leather, his stomach flat and you kept having to force yourself from following that line all the way down...

Clearing your throat, you shake some sense into yourself. Finally focusing on his face, you relax a bit. He had beautiful brown eyes, dark hair and his frown produced a dimple on his cheek as he studied you in turn.

This man was gorgeous, you think then he speaks finally. You weren't prepared for the deep richness of his voice as he says, "Are you hungry?"

"So they sent you to chase me off." he says, frowning. You nod, sighing. This wasn't the adventure you'd been hoping for. Just a big man scaring the smaller townfolk because...as you learned through talking to him....he was shy. Mingi, he'd said his name was.

He kept blushing as he glanced at you, his cute laugh making you want to cuddle him. He explained that the villagers scared him with their torches and screaming when he'd tried to approach them.

"I guess that's fine, I can just go find another place. It's not like this is exactly...." he says, waving around, ducking his head again.

"I feel bad...why don't you just go talk to them? Maybe I can help?" you say, laying a hand on his arm. His head shoots up at the contact, his eyes flashing momentarily. Then his dimples pokes out again when he smiles at you brightly.

"You'd do that for me?" he asks and you can't help but smile back, his sweetness so adorable. "Sure. I don't see why not? But it is getting dark...maybe I can come back in the morning and we can go talk to them together?" you say, rubbing his arm lightly.

You feel his skin prickle as he bites his lip, his head tilting, glancing at the setting sun. "Could you...would you....stay with me tonight? I...am...lonely..." he says, a small pout forming on his lips.

Was he...flirting? You couldn't actually tell, given his seemingly innocent demeanor so far. You didn't see how it could hurt to keep him comfortable....just for tonight....

"I can stay, if you'd like." you say, as he grasps your hand, his excited reaction making you have to bite back laughter. He was just so cute.

After a warm meal and helping him clean up, he directs you towards the cave. You rub your arms as a chill makes you shiver. "Oh..." you murmur, looking at the bed. He comes up behind you and you can't help but be affected by his nearness, his natural scent intoxicating.

His low voice hums as he moves around you, adjusting the bed. He slips in, then looks up at you. Realizing he wants you to get in with him, you blink.

"Aren't you cold? I'm sure....I can....keep you warm...." he says, smiling. Without a second thought, you crawl in with him. His big arms immediately pull you into him, engulfing you and pressing you against his chest. Oh hell yeah.

You are reminded of his naked chest from earlier and you feel your body react. Suddenly you're looking up into the face of this beautiful man, the innocence you'd seen in his eyes earlier replaced with curiosity mixed with what could only be desire.

"You...smell really nice..." you say, feeling heat creep up your neck. He brings his head down to your neck and inhales, causing you to stiffen up. "You smell good enough to taste..." he whispers then his tongue is on your skin, licking a trail up your neck.

Gasping, you grip his broad shoulders. This wasn't the adventure you'd expected but fuck if you weren't going to indulge while you were here. This man was luscious and you were too horny to care about your objective at this moment.

"Mingi..." you sigh, and then suddenly he's on top of you, his huge form hovering above you. "I love when you say my name..." he moans, settling his hips between your legs, his thick thighs pushing yours apart. "I need you..." he groans out, and you can feel his thick length proving that need as he grinds himself against you.

"Please-" you whimper, feeling your panties soak through at his low noises. He leans up and tugs your pants down, discarding them. You pull at the strings on his as well, and he removes them quickly, settling back between your legs. The weight of his huge cock on your mound causes you to mewl out, suddenly wondering if you were going to be able to take him.

"Mingi..." you moan again, as his length slides against you, your slickness as he rubs against your clit making you arch up. His large body covers yours as he grabs you behind one of your knees, pressing your leg up and to the side.

"I'm going to show you what kind of beast I really am...." he growls into your ear as he rams his enormous girth into your eager pussy, stretching you painfully. You scream out as he sheathes himself completely, the sting of pain and pleasure mixing to make you dizzy.

He doesn't even hesitate before he's grasping both of your wrists, yanking them over your head, holding you down. "You're all mine now, and I'm going to fuck you until you can't even think anymore..." he murmurs, his hips thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace. It's not long before you feel the build of your first peak, taking you by surprise as your body trembles beneath his.

The weight of him holds you down, actually drawing out the high at the feeling of helplessness. "Fuck yeah, baby, just like that. Scream for me...." he's groaning, the slap of his balls against the wetness seeping out of you causing him to bite his lip and rut into you even harder. He holds himself up to look down, so he can see his large cock burying itself into your tiny hole.

"Such a pretty pink little pussy," he's panting, then he yanks your top up, his lips encircling your sensitive nipple, grinding his hips down into you. The pressure has your legs shaking again, another coil about to burst in your abdomen.

"Mingi! FUCK!" you scream, your aching walls clamping down on him. If he wasn't so heavy and his weight was holding him into you, the force would have ejected him. You watch his jaw clench when you can keep your eyes from squeezing shut, enjoying his reaction to your noises and body.

"Going to make you cum all night around my dick." he states, huffing and beginning to sweat. He pulls out of you, the feeling of sudden emptiness eliciting a cry from you. But then he's lifting you as if you weigh nothing, turning over to seat you on top of him, facing away.

"You want more of this cock?" he asks, seating you so his thickness is rubbing against your slit, slapping it against you. "PLEASE!" you moan out. He chuckles into your ear, one of his hands cupping the weight of your breast, his fingers pinching and pulling.

"Beg me..." he murmurs and you can't help but sob his name, crying out for him. "Fuck me, oh my god...please...I want you to tear me in two with your big fat cock!" you whine. "Mmm that's what I like to hear..." he groans, leaning you back so he can guide himself into you.

As he forces his way deep into you again, he grabs your arms and holds them behind you with one hand, his other slaps your sensitive clit, making it sting.

"Cum on me, do it." he growls as you whimper and bounce on him, the sense of being torn apart never felt so good to you. His long fingers slap against your nub once more, but then he's pinching and pressing on it, ripping yet another orgasm from you.

"Oh my god....how long....can ..you...last-" you gasp out, almost collapsing from the countless times you've cum tonight. "Mmm, do you want me to fill you up, baby? I can fuck you forever if you'd like...." you plead with him, tears falling down your face. Your poor body overused and shaking from overstimulation.

"One more..... this time- cum with me while -I fill- you up.....going- to make you- burst from the amount of- cum I have for you..." he's moaning, his mouth on your neck. His grunts start to pick up as you bounce faster, his hand letting your arms go to grip your hips.

Your head falls back against him as he sucks on your nape, leaving a mark as you start to feel yourself quaking. He murmurs incoherent pleased noises as you clench around him yet again, but this time he grits his jaw, a gutteral noise coming from his throat as he pulls you down one last time, and you can feel his thighs tremble beneath you.

"God yes, fill my pussy! Fill me up until I can't take anymore!" you're screaming, his hand dipping between your legs to rub you where you both meet. You cry out yet again as he lifts you briefly to pull you back down, his thick fluid seeping out from the motion. "Fuck yeah...." he moans, repeating the motion one more time, the sticky mess coating you both.

His hand goes to your mouth, his fingers forcing themselves into your mouth. You can't help but suck the mixture of the both of you off of him, reveling in the bitter salty taste. "Fuck I hate letting you go again..." he murmurs and you frown, too dazed and exhausted to say anything. The last thing you remember is him cooing at you, laying you down with him as you drift off to sleep.

Waking in the morning, everything seems like a dream. Minus the soreness between your legs. It seemed that he'd bathed you with something while you slept, as you were clean and reclothed. You rub at the nape of your neck, realizing that your whole body was aching.

Worth it, you think, taking in the form of the big man as he comes to tell you he's ready to go meet the villagers.

Finally setting out on the very short trip back to town (grumbling under your breath about the lack of actual adventure), you turn to Mingi on the outskirts.

"It's probably best if I go speak with them first to explain, then we can go from there. How does that sound?" you ask, looking up at the large man. He just smiles at you brightly with his cute dimples, giving you a nod.

Sighing, you turn to go talk to the villager who gave you the quest in the tavern. The switch from the animalistic beast last night to the adorable innocence and happy puppy dog personality has you rubbing your head. Who the fuck wrote this 'adventure'? you think, grumpily. Minus the sex, it was horribly boring.

Walking into the town, you notice the villagers gathered to greet you. A few are wringing their hands, worry on their faces that turns to relief as they see you approach them.

"We thought ye'd done got ate up!" one of them calls and the rest murmur their agreement. The tavern keeper pushes through and you look down at him. Clearing your throat, you address him and everyone around.

"I did meet the ... creature you all sent me to handle. He is indeed very large." Mutters of agreement and gasps escape the crowd. "How did ye survive?!" they ask and you put up your hands.

"This so called 'beast' is just a tall human man who was just too afraid to come to your village to speak with you all. He thought he would be fine where he was, but I explained to him the issues it was causing." you explain.

"How do you know he tells the truth!?" a voice calls out, echoed by others nearby. Sighing, you smile and gesture to yourself. "I spent an evening with him, and we shared a meal. I am in one piece and was not ravaged by him." you say, doing your best to hold back the snicker that threatened to escape you at that particular comment.

"Tis true, she do be livin." they all whisper amongst themselves. "Listen....I have spoken with him and he has expressed his desire to speak with all of you on his own, and explain himself. Perhaps you all could reach an agreement for him to live there and he could help you all around the village?" You're met with some shocked looks from some of the more wary people, but others are pondering the idea.

The tavern keeper walks forward and eyes you up and down. "Does ye trust this beas- this human?" he asks, squinting at you. "As much as I can trust someone I only met for one night, yes. He seems genuine and I believe he's not here to cause any harm. He's quite shy." You say, motioning to the outskirts of town where he waited.

"I've brought him here to speak with you all, if you'll allow it. But he's agreed to leave if you are uncomfortable with it." you explain before they can all freak out.

"I mean...he came all this way..." someone says, then others are nodding, while others are reluctantly kicking the ground expressing their doubts. "I'll go meet him!" a small woman says, coming forward.

"Momma!" the tavern keep says, pulling on the older woman's arm but she shoos him away. "Big fraidy, you all are. He wants to help, I say we talk to him." "Thank you," you smile at the woman and she just gestures you on to go meet him.

"His name is Mingi," you tell her as you both approach. You definitely don't fail to notice the entourage following behind as you both go to greet him.

As Mingi watches you approach, he ducks his head a bit, holding onto the little bucket hat he'd brought with him. "So ye be the so called "beast", Mingi?" the woman says, walking right up to him. She stood about as tall as his hip.

He looks down at her shyly, and nods briefly. "I'm sorry for causing any issues." he says quietly and she just throws back her head and lets out a loud guffaw.

Smacking him on his rearend, she grabs his hand and drags him with her to meet the others. "No need for 'pologies her, mister Mingi! My you're a big boy, I bet we 'ave lots o work for the likes of ye...." you laugh as he looks back at you, shocked as he's forced into the crowd of little people.

Once the greeting was over, and Mingi seemed like he was finally warming up to all of them, the tavern keep comes to speak with you.

"Well, it wasn't what I sent ye for but you done did deal with the issue. Looks like we got ourselves a new townsfolk. Thanks to ye." he nods. "That bed and meal are still yers for the takin'." he says, patting your arm as he walks away.

"Seriously?" you sigh out. "This easy mode shit is what I get for my adventure?" you kick at the dirt path, but then let your gaze wander over the gorgeous man you'd spent the night with.

Well...you'll take it, you think. Suddenly the quest screen pops up and you clap.

Objective- Deal with the beast to bring peace back to the villagers-Quest Complete!

"Yay! Quest complete!" you cry, drawing Mingi's attention as you reach out to let the key fall into your hand.

Momentarily before things go black, you hear, "NO! DAMN YOU HWA AND YOUR STUPID GAME TUTORIAL BOOK-"

You open your eyes to the familiar dim light and the rows of books. What a weird story for adventure, you think. You turn around to the sound of a cat yowling softly, slowly slinking away with it's odd, sad noises.

This place was so strange.

You open your small box and notice there are six slots. Sliding the key into one of them, you shut it and look around.

Smiling as you think upon your 'adventure', you touch the mark on the back of your neck, oddly the only part of you still sore before you make your way onwards.

[alizha]

𝑰 𝑭𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒍𝒚 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖 | 𝒁𝒆𝒌𝒆 𝒀𝒆𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 | 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝟑

Rating: E Word Count: 5,230 Tags: reader has a name but is not described, childhood friends, zeke yeager being an asshole, flashbacks, pushy parent nagging about marriage and grandchildren (idk that bothers me), mild sadism, discussions of pregnancy, some dom/sub dynamics (sub zeke), rough sex, blowjob, cunnilingus, 69, face-sitting, orgasm denial

Summary: After nearly ten years, Zeke Yeager reconnects with you, an Eldian doctor assigned as his psychiatrist. As children, you were out of reach—two years older and the object of a youthful crush. Then, he became a Warrior, and the dynamic shifted. Now, as you navigate the complexities of your new professional relationship, where do you stand? Who holds the power in this tug of war?

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Chapter 3: Zeke

Now

Zeke sits across from you in the cozy dining room of your parents’ apartment, the rich aroma of vegetable pot pie filling the air. Your parents flank you on either side, and your mother appears to have pulled out the nice cream-colored tablecloth for dinner, the one he recalls she likes to spare for her most favored guests.

“Your grandparents must be beside themselves. How long will you be gone, Zeke?” Dr. Faust asks.

The information about his mission to Paradis is strictly confidential, of course. You glance up at him through your lashes, clearly curious about how he’ll respond. But the Marleyan brass have provided him with plausible covers for exactly this purpose.

“Oh, no more than a few months,” Zeke says smoothly.

He meets your gaze, hoping for a flicker of emotion—surprise, irritation, anything. But you’re too practiced, turning away to focus on your dinner. The slightest hint of a smirk touches your lips as you roll a carrot from your crust and cut it in half with your fork.

Your mother sighs, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. “A few months? Well, don’t forget to visit when you’re back. It’s a shame Stella doesn’t have more friends around the house these days. With all her work she’s hardly at home anymore.”

She shoots her daughter a pointed look, and though her tone is light, Zeke can tell it’s a frequent point of contention in the household from the way you react. Your fork pauses in mid-air, half a piece of carrot falling from the tines back onto your plate, and your brow furrows just slightly before you smooths your expression.

“Mom, I’m perfectly content with the number of social calls I’ve been receiving,” you say evenly.

“Well, I just worry about you, sweetheart. You’re in your late twenties now, and you’re still so focused on work,” your mother fusses. “When do you plan to relax? Meet someone nice? Give your poor mother the grandchildren I’ve been dreaming of.”

You nearly choke on that carrot. “Mom. It’s taken me this long just to get through med school and residency. I’m not gonna give it all up now.”

Zeke can’t help but find thrill in your discomfort, but it’s tainted when your mother is the one doing it. It needs to be him , drawing out those awkward shifts in your seat, those flustered looks. He leans back, glancing over at your father, who looks torn between agreement and an unspoken wish to avoid the topic entirely. Seeing his chance, Zeke jumps in.

“Stella doesn’t need to rush into anything,” he says, catching your eye. “She’s beautiful enough to have any man chasing after her, and she’s got all the time she needs.”

Your mother beams at him, and Zeke catches the hint of a blush creeping up your neck. There it is, that gorgeous darkening of your flesh that he’s been longing for since that session in your office. You take a sip of water, attempting to hide your embarrassment, but he can tell he’s hit his mark.

“Ah, Zeke, you always did have such a way with words,” your mother says, patting you on the arm. “Zeke thinks you’re lovely, darling! If only he could be a permanent part of the family, hmm? He’d make a wonderful son-in-law.”

She gives a wistful sigh, clearly picturing it. Zeke taps your foot with his own and relishes in your deepening blush. Your fork clinks against your plate, and you clear your throat.

“Mom, please,” you mutter, drawing your foot out of reach beneath the table.

“Come now, darling. You two practically grew up together. It’s just nice to imagine, is all,” your mother says. “And Zeke’s such a gentleman. Maybe he could give you a few pointers on, you know, loosening up.”

You look like you wish you could disintegrate on the spot, but Zeke can’t resist the opportunity to stoke the fire.

“Actually, Mrs. Faust, I’d be more than happy to help her with that.” He leans forward, grinning openly at you. “In fact, I’d say she’s already made some progress.”

Although you’ve clearly been trying to avoid his gaze, you shoot him a furious glare at that. Another thrill shoots through him, this time pure and raw. He wants to drag you back to your dark little bedroom and steal kisses from your pouty mouth until you’re bent over backwards for him again.

“See? I just knew you’d bring out the best in her, Zeke.”

Dr. Faust coughs into his napkin, finally managing a soft, “Dear, perhaps we should let Stella find her own way.”

You barely wait until your father has stopped talking before standing, your forced smile flickering. “Well, it’s been… lovely. But Zeke has to go now. Busy schedule and all.”

Your tone is firm, making it clear as day that this is not up for debate. Zeke allows himself to be tugged out of his chair and toward the door. Your mother looks mildly disappointed, your father relieved, but neither of them argues as you all but drag him into the hall.

As soon as the door closes behind you, Zeke snickers. “Couldn’t wait to get me out of there, huh?”

You don’t dignify that with a response, your heels clicking briskly as you head for the stairwell. He trails behind as you descend the narrow, dimly-lit stairs and emerge outside. The night air is warm and thick, the remnants of summer hanging on despite the late hour.

“Grandchildren, huh?” he remarks, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Your mom seems set on it. Should I be flattered.”

“You know how I feel about that,” you snap, leveling him with another glare. “It’s not a choice I’d make.”

Zeke raises a brow. “Still? No children? Ever?”

“Not in a world where they’ll be hated just for being born,” you reply in a clipped tone.

The conviction in your words gives him pause. Most people he knew paid lip service to ideals, skimming along the surface of their beliefs without delving too deeply. But you had clearly thought this through. You’d committed yourself to your stance as thoroughly as any Warrior.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” he murmurs, mostly to himself.

You stiffen at his tone, as if waiting for him to undermine your reasoning, but he doesn’t. 

“What do you say you spend a little more time with me before I leave? Provided, of course, that your parents aren’t around to spoil the fun?” he says casually.

You narrow your eyes at him. “And what exactly would that entail?”

He grins, pleasantly surprised that you didn’t outright reject his suggestion. “Remember when I used to climb up to your window?”

Your lips part, your gaze dripping with skepticism. “You’re serious? You’re far too big to pull that off now.”

“Where’s your faith?” Zeke retorts, lifting his chin defiantly. “I’m still a Warrior, you know. Scaling a building’s not beyond me.”

You stare at him for a long moment, probably half-convinced he’s bluffing. Then, with a resigned sigh, you relent. “Fine. I’ll meet you up there.”

Zeke’s heart thumps against his ribcage as he watches you head back inside, shaking your head as if trying to figure out how he’d talked you into this. Once you’ve disappeared, he makes his way around to the side of the building perhaps a little quicker than he’d admit. After a quick glance to make sure no one’s around, he climbs.

His muscles coil as he pulls himself up, finding footholds in the familiar nooks he’d used as a boy. The building’s not exactly sturdy, but he’s undeterred. He’s too eager, too hungry to be alone with you within the four walls of your small bedroom. He hoists himself higher, slipping into the same old rhythm as if no time has passed at all.

Your window is still open, the way you left it, and your room is quiet and bathed in shadow. As he pulls himself over the edge of the sill, he hears the faint creak of footsteps in the hall. A moment later, you emerge from the door, slightly breathless as you closes it behind you.

“Still got it,” Zeke whispers, throwing you a lopsided smile. “Did you doubt me?”

“This is absolutely ridiculous,” you mutter, closing the distance between the two of you with a few short strides.

For a moment, he thinks he might have actually pushed you too far, and you might shove him out your window. But then, your hands come up to his chest, twisting into the fabric of his shirt, and you pull him into you. Zeke lets himself get dragged away from the window, falling onto you on your tiny bed, eager for your gentle touch. Except, you’re anything but gentle.

You open for him and delve your tongue past the seam of his lips, plucking and swirling and taking . Your fingers tighten, holding him firmly in place as you give a slow, lush roll of your body against his. Zeke strangles a moan deep in his throat, and you greedily swallow the remnants of the desperate sound slipping past his teeth.

“Quiet,” you command, and it sounds as authoritative as Magath’s barks at a fraction of the volume.

Without giving him a chance to respond, you dive back in, kissing him hard. You taste like the spicy-bitter smoke of his cigarettes and long, hazy summer days. When you dig the hard enamel of your teeth into his lip, you put your spite and your hostility behind it, but you doesn’t draw blood this time. The pain jolts straight to his cock as you roll you body again, the movement languid but far from soft.

Your hips grind against his, and Zeke thrills at the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it shiver that racks your frame when you realize he’s stiffening in his trousers. The mattress creaks quietly beneath you, and your heels clatter to the ground one by one as you maneuvers yourself fully on the bed. Zeke’s got his legs half dangling above the ground. He struggles against your firm grip, bracing himself on his forearms so he can kick off his loafers.

Once you’re both barefoot, you waste no time hauling him up on top of you. Zeke flicks his tongue against yours, shifting his weight to his knees straddling your thighs to move his hands to the front of your shirt. You make a disapproving noise in the back of your throat and grasp his wrists, yanking them off your chest and holding them in place on either side of your head.

Your message is clear. Outside, he might be in control. But in here, you’re the one calling the shots.

“This is dangerous,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to speak against your lips. He weaves his fingers with yours, pressing your hands into your mattress. “One word from you, my psychiatrist, and the brass could cut my life short before my five years are up.”

“Yeah, well,” you pant, pupils blown wide, “you’re just as dangerous. You sent your own parents to Paradis, Zeke.”

He growls softly and bites down on your lip, luxuriating in the way your face pinches as you try to muffle the sound of your resulting moan. “You know fuck all about that, Stel.”

Oh, you’re gonna punish him for that. Your gaze darkens up at him, and you tilt your head to sink your teeth into his neck. Zeke hisses into your ear, feeling himself twitch in his trousers.

He’s hyper aware that your room sits close to the living room, where your parents like to relax in the evenings. His own room is no better, sharing a wall with his grandparents’ bedroom. If he’d told his younger self he was going to be sneaking around like a teenager again after all these years, he would have laughed in his own face.

You rip your hands away from his and grab either side of his face to angle it further. The searing heat of your mouth devours the length of his neck, from his collarbone to the edge of his beard. Zeke buries a groan in your hair.

“So, Doctor,” he rasps. “Are we going to talk about your taste in company, or are we going to keep pretending this is strictly professional?”

You lift your head to look at him and reach one hand between your bodies to palm the bulge at the front of his trousers. “Don’t talk, Captain. You’re ruining this.”

Zeke curls in on himself, his ears ringing for a moment. Then, he arches into you, or tries to anyway. You’re already withdrawing your touch and settling your hand on his hip.

“If you don’t wanna hear me talk, give me something else to occupy my mouth,” he says with a smirk.

Your thumb digs into his flesh through his clothes. “You’re very confident. You’re sure you won’t disappoint?”

“Certain,” Zeke says, dipping down to mouth against the soft skin of your throat. “Let me taste you.”

The shadow of a moan rattles against his lips, barely more than an exhale from deep in your chest. “Ask me like you actually want it.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, the hand at his hip grounding him. “Please, let me taste you. I’ve been thinking about it for ages— shit , I need it— please .”

You thread your fingers into the hair at the back of his head and mash him deeper into your neck. He lets out a muffled sound against you and sucks hard. Your thighs clench, rubbing and sliding together under him.

“You sound like you want it too much,” you sigh. “I don’t think you deserve it.”

Zeke groans in protest and shoves his way up to look at you. “Bullshit, Doc. Don’t act like you don’t want it, too.”

“What? And have that scruff scraping and scratching down there?” you scoff, your gaze darting briefly to his beard.

“I’ll have you know oil it,” he says, indignant. “It would not ‘scrape’ or ‘scratch’.”

You huff a hint of a chuckle, grinning up at him. Your lips and your neck are flushed and bitten in a way that makes the last of his blood rush south, and he’s suddenly overtaken by the very desperate need to be touched. He tries to grind his achingly hard length down into your groin.

“Needy,” you murmur, shoving a knee between his body and yours.

With a forceful push, you shove him up and roll him onto his back before swinging a leg over his hips. Your skirt flutters with the movement, and you lift yourself up to sit just below the tent in his trousers. Zeke gapes up you, transfixed by the sway of your hair as you toss it out of your face.

“Take those damn glasses off,” you demand, pressing the heel of your palm firmly against his cock.

His hips lift of their own accord as he scrambles to fold up his glasses and set them on the bedside table. You’re undoing the flaps of his trousers, nimble fingers pulling at the buttons. Zeke’s breath comes in shallow as he watches you reach in his underwear, then it hitches as you pull his throbbing length from its confines.

The unconscious way you lick your lips with your eyes locked on his erection makes him twitch in your hand. He’s so hard it hurts, a shiny bead of white liquid already gathering at his tip. You bend forward, close enough for him to feel your breath against his heated skin, and dip your tongue into the slit to lick the precome off his dick.

“Fuck,” Zeke whispers as you wiggle your way down his legs a bit and drop your head down to hover over his cock again. “Oh, fuck.”

You take him into your mouth, slicking up his length with your spit. And then, you’re bobbing up and down, swallowing him down fast and dirty. Your tongue is molten velvet along the underside of his cock, massaging him with each stroke as you take him deeper and deeper. Zeke’s mind whites out like static when you hollow your cheeks and pause to give him one hard suck, popping off with a wet, obscene sound.

“Goddamn, your fucking mouth,” he chokes out as you sink your lips over his cock again. “Fuck—let me lick you, Stel. Please."

He half sits up and reaches for you with near-frantic hands on your waist. You squeak quietly on his dick, rhythm interrupted, but let him pivot you around carefully. Once you’re more or less facing away from him, Zeke lifts one of your legs, settling your knee over him to straddle his torso, then yanks your ass up above his face.

His hands smooth the curve of your hips, the soft globes of your ass. He’s already breathless from the almost sloppy way you’re taking down his cock, but the anticipation of exposing your pussy is making his chest painfully tight. Impatiently, Zeke flings your skirt out of the way, letting it bunch around your waist.

The moment he slides a finger under your underwear, he feels the head of his dick hit the back of your throat. He freezes and bites back a moan and feels the rumble of your chuckle around his length. Spurred, he takes the thin fabric of your underwear with two hands and tears.

You lift off his cock to swear at him, but Zeke’s already tossed the ripped garment to the floor, and he pulls you down to his face without preamble. His lips slot against your cunt, and you’re arching your back with a sharp inhale. Zeke curls his fingers firmly around your thighs and drags his tongue through your folds, surrounded by the dizzying musk-salt scent of you.

“You’re so fucking wet. Dripping ,” he whispers into your pussy. “All this for me?”

Your hand squeezes hard around his cock, drawing a whine from his throat. “You’re one to talk, Zeke.”

He huffs a quiet laugh and drapes one arm across the top of your ass to drag you in even closer, until you’re practically sitting on his face. Then, he goes to work. He swirls his tongue around your entrance, gathering the wet arousal there, and slides it up to your clit, delighting in the small twitches and jerks of your hips.

Slick and swollen, he flicks against the sensitive bundle of nerves a few times teasingly before flattening his tongue. You moan wantonly around his cock as he starts firmly lapping at you, focusing his attention on your clit. You shift, hips trying to shy away from the intensity, raw and searing, but Zeke holds you in place, unyielding.

Your squirming titillates him. He tightens his grip on you and slips his lips around your clit to suck. The sheets beneath you shift and rustle as you fist them violently and muffle another moan on his dick. Goaded into action, you redouble your efforts and take him to the hilt, the tip of your nose nuzzling against the satin skin of his balls.

“Shit ,” Zeke hisses.

You swallow around him in response, and the resulting squeeze of your throat around his cock threatens to haul him over the edge once and for all. He can feel his legs shaking, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he holds himself back from the precipice. When you turn to glance over your shoulder at him, there’s a smirk on your wet, darkened lips.

“Good boy,” you whisper. “No coming until you make me finish.”

Your words shoot straight to his dick, and Zeke pulls you in again to groan against your cunt. You let out a sigh of contentment. Instead of licking at your clit again, he drags his tongue past it to dip inside the clenching ring of muscle at your entrance.

“Yeah, that’s—just like that,” you mumble against his head.

He draws back until just the tip is inside you, only to thrust his tongue back in a moment later. The whimper you let out is delicious . Zeke wants to make you scream, but he’ll settle for the frustrated little sounds you’re desperately trying to hold back for now.

When he starts fucking you with his tongue in earnest, your hips move to meet him. You’re sucking his cock again, though your pace stutters here and there and briefly falters altogether when he brings his thumb to your clit. He draws tight circles there in time with the expert movements of his tongue.

Even though you’re clearly having trouble concentrating, Zeke’s already come close to his peak, and he feels it lingering, slowly creeping back toward him. The familiar crackling heat at the base of his spine signals the approach of his climax, and he’s shuddering again. He bucks his hips, seeking the friction of your lips. You pull off him with a hiss and wrap your fingers tight around the base of his cock.

Your grip is a vice, and frustration shoots through Zeke’s veins like prickling ice. He growls into your pussy as his orgasm fades into a dull ache. Every muscle in his body slowly relaxes, but it feels like misery rather than relief.

“Fuck you,” he gasps through heaving breaths of air.

“Seems like I’m the one fucking you,” you murmur. “You want it? Show me you deserve it.”

Without any further prompting, Zeke sinks his tongue into you again. Your hips cant into him, slowly—carefully—but passionately nonetheless. His thumb works your clit faster, more deliberately. You’re panting, humid breaths fanning against his throbbing cock.

Your fingers have loosened, and you’re faintly rolling your wrist, stroking him with frustrating tenderness. It takes a pathetic amount of willpower to keep himself from bucking up into your hand as Zeke spears your cunt with his tongue over and over. Soon, your exhales morph into breathy moans, and your thighs start to quiver, and you take his cock into the wet heat of your mouth again.

You’re close. You must be. Zeke thrusts into you as deep as he can go and presses firmly against your clit, and you choke back a cry with his dick on your tongue. Your hips roll as you ride out your climax, and you’re still shaking when he lets himself follow you over that cliff.

Before he can have the chance to warn you, he bursts inside your mouth, coating your throat with his release. He lets out a half-strangled groan from deep in his chest and thrusts into you, shallow and careful. You swallow around him, gulping down every drop he gives you until his hips still.

Zeke collapses fully into the mattress as you lift off him, sucking him clean until his cock falls from your lips and slaps against his shirt. Wiping your mouth with your sleeve, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and wobbles a little as you stand. Your skirt falls around your legs, and when you smooth down your hair, you look almost as put together as you'd been before falling into bed with him.

“You can leave from the front door. My parents should be in bed,” you say as he’s tucking himself back into his underwear.

“Not so cold that you’d kick me out the way I came in, hm?” he teases.

You shoot him an irritated look, but there’s not much heat behind it. You’re too softened from your climax, still half-drifting through the hazy aftermath of it. Zeke fixes his trousers and stands, bending to pick up his shoes. It’ll be easier to sneak quietly down the hall barefoot.

“I’ll make sure they’re in their room first and signal you to come out,” you tell him, hand on the doorknob.

“Aren’t you even gonna wish me luck on my mission?” he asks, plucking his glasses off the bedside table and unfolding them with his teeth before slipping them back on.

“Please. I’m not worried about you,” you say, glancing back at him. “You’ll have Pieck there with you.”

Zeke chuckles. “Fair. Guess I’ll see you for my post-mission evaluation, then.”

You roll your eyes and push the door open, stepping out into the hall. Your footsteps fade as you head towards your parents’ room to make sure the coast is clear. Zeke follows a few moments later, moving quietly.

You tiptoe after him to the front door and open it for him while he slips on his shoes. Zeke lingers for a brief second as he goes to pass you, pausing to run his fingertips over your cheek where your flush is receding. Then, he heads out and down the stairs, slipping into the shadows without another look.

➴ ➴ ➴

Then

The streets of Liberio are alive with music and laughter, lanterns strung haphazardly between buildings. It’s hardly grand—the festival looks like it’s been put together with scraps and spare change, stalls slapped together from crates and patched-up tarps. Vendors sell simple fare, the smell of fried dough and watered-down wine filling the air. But Zeke can barely care about any of it. He only has one thing on his mind.

Weaving through the crowd, he scans for you in the throng of people. You’d promised to meet him here, and he’d staked out the spot they agreed on earlier—right by the street musician whose fiddle is scratching out old upbeat folk songs. Zeke wonders if you’d still like them, now that you were practically grown.

But he’s excited anyway. Days away from fourteen. He’ll soon be the same age you’d been when you first met. For a brief, shining few years, you’d been able to run through the streets together and share those carefree days of childhood. Yet today, he’s caught up to you, in a way. You can’t look down on him as a kid anymore, not when he’s shooting up like a sprout and quickly overtaking you in height.

The crowd swells around him as the music picks up, and Zeke catches a glimpse of the familiar flash of the color of your hair, a delicate white bow pinned to the back of it. He surges forward, calling your name, but his voice is lost beneath the clamor of singing. Finally, you appear fully, your dress swinging just above your ankles and your eyes flitting back and forth.

Zeke’s heart does a little leap. You haven’t changed much since turning sixteen, even if you wear your hair up now, and your skirt reaches lower than before.

“Stella!” he calls, and your eyes light up when you spot him.

“There you are,” you say, grinning as you close the distance between them. You look at him in surprise, reaching up to compare your heights. “Look at you, catching up to me, Zeke Yeager. How did you grow this much in just a few months?”

He knows you don’t mean to patronize, but he feels a slight sting at your words anyway. “I’ll be way taller than you soon.”

“Keep this up, and you’ll tower over me,” you tease.

It bothers him that you joke, and he straightens as if he can will himself to prove your jest right, but you’re already leaning forward, captivated by the dancers. The musicians pick up the pace, and skirts fly as people spin their partners. Zeke thinks about nudging you, asking you to join him for a dance, but the thought of putting himself out there in front of so many people makes his pulse quicken for all the wrong reasons.

Zeke shifts on his feet, and before he can second-guess himself, he blurts out instead, “I’ll grab us something to drink. Stay here?”

You give him a quick nod, your eyes still on the dancers with that soft, faraway look he’s only seen you wear at these festivals. His heart thumps as he turns toward the line of makeshift stalls to find a drink vendor. Zeke maneuvers through the crowd, his mind whirling as his thoughts bounce between your words, your laugh, the way you don't seem to notice how much he’s changed—how much he’s trying to change, for you.

It takes longer than he’d like, but he finally finds a vendor selling cups of lemonade. Clutching two in his hands, he hurries back, hoping he hasn’t kept you waiting too long. But as he rounds the corner, he stops in his tracks, his heart sinking.

There you are, laughing and beaming, and you’re not alone. A few boys—three of them, all around your age—are crowded around you, clearly captivated. One of them is leaning a little too close, saying something in your ear that makes the wispy tendrils of your hair quiver. It’s like you’re caught in your own little world, and Zeke’s left outside, watching from the edges.

Jealousy twists in his chest. He stands for a moment longer, fists tightening around the cups as his face grows warm. Without thinking, he strides forward, pushing through the boys with an air of irritation that he doesn’t even try to hide.

“Hey,” he says sharply, shoving one of the cups into your hands with more force than necessary. “Don’t you guys have somewhere else to be?”

The boys look at him, taken aback, until one of them steps forward with a cocky grin. “We’re just talking, kid. Maybe you should take a walk and come back when you’re older.”

Zeke’s jaw clenches. “Yeah? Maybe you should take a walk and not come back at all.”

The smug boy narrows his eyes, clearly considering a retort, but you step in and put a hand on Zeke’s shoulder.

“It’s fine,” you say, your tone light, but your eyes flash with worry. “They’re just being friendly.”

The group of boys exchange glances and drift away into the crowd, muttering amongst themselves. You watch them go before turning back to Zeke, eyebrows raised. He meets your gaze, expecting a smile or a teasing remark. Instead, you sigh exasperatedly.

“Really, Zeke?” you say. “You can’t just drive people off for speaking to me.”

He opens his mouth, but his response falters at first. He glances away and mumbles defensively, “They were bothering you.”

You laugh coldly. “No, they weren’t. You’re just—,” you pause and shake your head. “You’re just being mean.”

Zeke’s stomach turns to lead. He can see it now, how your eyes sparkle with the attention, how you seem to lean into the easy flirtations you get from your peers. You’re not just tolerating it—you’re enjoying it. Maybe, you even look forward to it. He feels as if he’s shrinking in your presence, suddenly too young, too naive. Too small .

He tries to swallow the feeling down, but he can’t ignore it. Without another word, Zeke whirls on his heels and pushes into the crowd, the noise and bodies a blur around him. He hears you calling his name but doesn’t turn back. He just keeps walking, letting the music and chatter swallow him whole until he’s far enough away that he can’t feel your gaze on him.

Anger churns in his chest, but it’s not directed at you. Not exactly. It’s more at himself, for letting himself carry on this childish crush for so long, for foolishly believing you’d wait for him, as if he had all the time in the world to catch up.

But that’s the problem—he doesn’t have time. Not really.

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

Disgrace Chapter 3 : Crosshair x F!OC

Summary:

After crash-landing on a desert world, the main objective is getting off of it again. A backwater pirate operation is nothing for the Elite Imperial Sniper, even alone... What's not accounted for is Tah'nyem's draw for bad luck and mischief. They'll have to try to navigate the hostile environment without getting too distracted.

Chapter Specific Warnings: Minor Injuries, Drug use, Flirty Banter, Gun Fight, Threats made against MC, Crosshair still being (mostly) professional. Bad decisions, Explosions.

Word Count: 6k+

Dynamic: Princess x Guard, Speed running Co-dependancy, A Mangy Cat and his Aggressive little Chihuahua.

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Music Inspo- Not A Crime - Gogol Bordello

[oh how I knew I'd write an action sequence to this the moment I heard it]

Listen on Spotify - Listen on Youtube

Chapter 3

Not a Crime 

The surface we landed on was powdered with a fine, rust colored sand. Our pod had dug a wide gouge through a forested landscape of thick, tube-like trees that twisted and wove into each other like vines. 

“Careful now, don't touch the trunks.”

Crosshair steadied me by grabbing my arm, keeping me from falling into one of the odd plants. 

On closer inspection I could see that the vegetation was ridged. Sharp needles stood in clumps along the deep channels. 

Still in my thin sleep gown, I didn't fancy getting too close. The warm sand however was pleasant on my bare feet as I was half dragged through the dangerous, gigantic brambles. 

“I need to change,”

I complained again. I had managed to hold onto my pack during the evacuation but we hadn't stopped walking since leaving the escape pod. 

“You need to keep moving, That wasn't a subtle landing and we have no idea who might… investigate,”

I swear there's enough distance for me to put some Kriffing pants on…

But the clone was in full soldier mode and I had yet to really reach him under all that protocol.

Maybe he likes how thin the gown is…

I self consciously looked down at the light colored shift now stained with hazey, rusty streaks. It clung to my thighs and the soft peaks of my breasts, occasionally catching in the tuck point of my buttock. Not exactly covert travel garb. 

Thank Be’llahl it's warm…

“What exactly is the plan here,”

“Find a new ship, get you to a safehouse till we're summoned, keep you off the radar,”

“That's it? That's the whole plan b?”

He didn't answer. 

“What if this planet’s deserted?”

“It's not.”

He pointed ahead at the sky where pillars of smoke stood in sharp contrast against the bright, blue-green atmosphere. 

“Could be a natural phenomenon…”

I grumbled, but it was an impotent theory. Listening closely there was a thumping, mechanical clanking on the breeze. It was most likely some sort of refinery or mining plant… the galaxy was full of them. 

I had tried to check my datapad for any brochures to the place but it was apparently unlisted to the civilian holonet. 

“C’mon, princess. The faster we find a way off this planet the faster you can change.”

He started to pull me along quicker than before and I'm sure I caught a hint of amusement in his voice. At my expense no less… I glowered up at him but if he noticed he didn't react. 

The spiked tubes began thinning out signaling we were near the edge of the natural outcropping, which when reached, dropped off steeply to overlook a massive valley. 

I could barely make out the opposite cliff face, the depression in between vast and filled with a thicket of twisted metal, steam and smoke. 

“What do you think it is?”

“Doesn't matter.”

He swung the rifle from his shoulder and focused the scope to the ground outside the … factory? Scanning a little left, a little right and then out, over the expansive structure. He lowered the gun. 

“There’s ships, A lot of them, But they look rough, we'll have to find one that works and possibly fuel it up ourselves.”

“You think they'll give us one?” 

He paused, turning to me with what I could guess would be a look of controlled confusion… hard to tell through the helmet. 

“I wasn't really planning on asking…”

“Why can't we just buy a ride? I have plenty of cre-”

“Princess,”

Ah, the warning growl.

I shut up. 

“Someone blew up an entire military transport with the intention of you blowing up with it, We stay off record,”

“You don't know they were aiming for me,”

“Don't be dense,”

I was yanked forward again and sighed. 

“You know you should really save the rough stuff for later,”

I had decided to drop the kitschy act around him but damn it, he was pissing me off a little, being so right all the time.

He was skilled at ignoring me by now though and pressed on, checking his scopes from another angle. 

I was about to snag a pair of trousers from my pack but was pulled into motion again. 

“Found our ship, Stay close, Do everything I tell you exactly,”

My pulse quickened at that, though I wasn't sure if it was nerves for what was to come or the image the command conjured. 

Time and place. 

He positioned himself behind me, swinging his scope back up to be level with my eyes. 

“See it? Small, green stripes on the hull. Its engine is intact and the fuel lines aren't dripping,”

“How… how can you see all that?”

I squinted into the scope, the engine panel on the specified vehicle was open but I couldn't make anything out even with the magnification. 

Giving up I looked around the ship we planned on stealing. The alcove was bright with sunlight, causing me to squint as the occasional stray mirror from scattered speeder parts flashed it into the scope. It was far from unattended, the ground a buzz with droids and insectoids bustling to and fro, about eight maybe?

“Uh… how good a gunman are you? Exactly.”

I could feel his chest puff in pride against my back, his voice coming as almost a purr. 

“The best,”

Okay, tough guy. 

…

“Show me.”

The demand caught him off guard, skipping a beat in hesitation. 

He moved purposefully, repositioning his rifle to rest against the well worn plate on his chest and pulled me to him, tucking me under the steadied muzzle.  

It only took a second, but I knew when he found his mark; a wave of rigidity flooding over his muscles as if locking it into place before relaxing into a calm confidence. 

“Cover your ear,”

His voice was close, and if it weren't for the helmet his breath would've been dancing across the back of my neck. I obeyed, cupping my hand over my right ear. 

With a squeeze of the trigger a single blaster bolt shot forth and darted into the alcove the ship was parked in. 

It ricocheted, flashing a wild pattern as distant cries of alarm went up and just as quickly died. 

He gave me back the scope to check his work. 

The alcove was completely cleared. Everything taken down in a single shot. 

“Holy shyte!” 

“That was nothing,”

“No kidding,”

Pleased with himself, he slung the rifle back across his shoulders and pushed me forward again. 

More cries were heard on the breeze as an alarm was raised from the metallic jungle below us. 

“That wasn't really the best move was it?”

“No,”

It was so matter of fact I giggled a little. 

“How hard is this gonna be now?”

“Not any harder than before,”

“How hard were you before?”

He walked into that one. 

His armor jerked slightly, a sharp exhale through his speaker giving away a silent laugh as he helped me carefully pick our way down a steep incline and I relaxed a little. 

At least there's some kind of reaction, I must've caught him off guard again. 

The stoic business-like demeanor he'd been projecting since the pod had been vaguely off putting and I wasn't sure if it was the disruption to the dynamic that had been built till then or the fact that I just hurtled from the sky in a can that had me on edge.  

And it's hard to feel scared when we're charging forward giggling like idiots, right? 

“Don't you ever stop?”

Feigned annoyance. 

“Not when I'm nervous,”

The levity was short lived as we descended the cliff side. He finally reached even ground and turned to lift me at the hip, picking me up off the last ledge and setting me next to him.

“Don’t be nervous,”

Easy for you to say, tough guy.

Luckily, the denizens of the metal monster hadn't really guessed where the lone shot had come from and they appeared to be scrambling trying to figure out what was going on. 

“New plan,”

We skirted around and away from the commotion, making our way towards the further side of the factory. 

“There's another junk yard this way,”

The place seemed to be a processing plant for salvaging scrap from ships, the outer walls consisting of mismatched metal streaked in bloody rust and corrosion. A shrieking, thumping, ringing din rose from within. My hopes of us finding a nice, usable getaway craft were dwindling. 

We made our way around, stopping at a gap in the protective collage of scrap where the rust had completely eaten through and ducked inside. 

There were towering walls of partially crushed and destroyed ships stacked to form tight aisles in what had to be a labyrinth of twists and turns. It reached to either direction from where we came through and Crosshair motioned for me to be silent. 

I could tell he was listening and I focused as well. There were definitely people here, drifting about, none too many. From the snippets of common I could make out these stragglers didn't think there was much cause for the alarm. Good.

My arm was taken and I was pulled to the right and away from the congregation of gossiping workers. The path between the metal columns grew tighter, and I slowed, once again made aware of the delicate shift and bare feet I was dressed in. 

“Stop.” 

I whispered hurriedly and started to quietly reach into my bag. 

“No. Not now,”

“C’mon, just some slippers, It's a death trap in here!”

He was annoyed but his visor dipped to look down at my ankles and he acquiesced.

Did you seriously miss that I was barefoot? Tunnel vision I swear… 

Finally, I reached in and found the silk flats I was looking for, triumphantly slipping them on my feet. 

A gurgling whine went up behind us and we turned and looked up. 

A winged insectoid perched on top of the column screeching a warning to his crew. 

Ah varp.  

Without even an, “I told you so,” Crosshair swung me forward and out in front of him as he aimed a blaster back the way we came at the pursuers already pouring into the narrow corridor. 

“Run.”

I ran.

There was only one way to go and I bolted down the path as fast as I could, uttering a prayer to the void that we'd end up somewhere useful. I could hear an exchange of blaster bolts and was pushed up against the wall with an arm hastily thrown over me, the ground scorched where I had been. 

I darted on again, more determined to find a way out and trusting Crosshair to keep us safe from behind. He was tapping the walls periodically as we went, he had to be coming up with something. 

The straight path ended and split into three. There were already pursuants down the leftmost path, and little time to deliberate, so I pivoted us down the right towards sunlight. 

I scuffed the wall of hastily assembled debris, and almost fell as I took the turn wrong. I could feel fire alight on my side where abrasions no doubt were blooming from the ungraceful scrape. No time, I kept moving forward trying to fix my stumbling gate when suddenly the ground ended and I was sliding in sand between the stacked pillars. 

Crosshair fell against my back and wrapped an arm around me to steady us, turning behind us and squeezing off a final shot as we reached the end of the ramshackle shoot and rolled onto a belt. It darted, bouncing off of little mirrored pucks that now strategicly dotted the makeshift corridor in a dizzying light show. Our pursuers fell every few meters, the rest tripping over the fallen. 

The conveyor beneath us shuddered rhythmically, moving at a slow, ungainly pace, shaking the sand. Bits of jagged metal and plastics emerged from the sediment quickly falling away from our ankles. The line shifted under my feet carrying us upwards before evening out again, showing me what was shaking the belt. 

A giant column of metal was bearing down on the automated line. The pedal end, the size of a ship itself, swung and rolled across the conveyor, crushing the sifted debris flat before dumping them into a grinder with a sickening crash. 

Oh good. 

Crosshair quickly hoisted me up and over the side with him and we plunged down to the next layer of moving belts. He landed hard, losing some wind as he “caught” me with a thud.

Then we were up. He had taken my hand now, pulling me to stand, then running as best as we could. There was flattened scrap piled at our feet as we made our way down the narrow incline, slowing our progress with sliding unpredictability. The air was starting to grow hotter, and I could only assume the column ahead of us was some type of furnace. 

A buzzing clatter filled the air as Insectoids dropped onto the conveyor to either side of our position, training their weapons towards us. 

“What are karken Genoans doing out here…”

Is that what they're called?

I was dipped as Crosshair dropped to a knee, pulling me down for cover as he shot the two to the left. Next, I'm up and spun against his back. He opens on the ones to the rear. The group scatters as the middle man falls, his body slumping onto the belt, but not before he spit some kind of fluid at us, slapping across the snipper’s visor. The fallen bug-man disappeared as the channel ended, dropping him into the incinerator with a delayed flash of sparks. 

Up and over again, I was lifted as my guard calculated another jump over the edge. Atop a rusted casing for some whining machine, smoke, and then darkness as we dropped into a hollow shaft. For the moment we were safe. Sort of. Pistons periodically pressed into the space to either side of us, the loud mechanical groans as they shifted in quickly and then pushed back against a hydraulic regulator were raising the hairs on the back of my neck. 

Eerie and too, too close.

We stayed there, still and listening. There were a few low, buzzing voices talking under the belt we had jumped from. I could barely hear it over the thrusting piston, but it sounded like they might be giving up and scattering. 

Please believe we fell in… please just go away. 

Other thoughts were spinning through me in the sudden stillness. 

Why such a fuss for scrap?

Irritation flared up as it occurred to me how shady and complicated my life had suddenly become, the questions I suddenly had to account for… 

I was supposed to be shopping with Kahtzi on Coruscant right now. 

I looked up at the helmet above me. The front of it was covered in a thick sticky gunk. I was surprised he could still see through it at all.   There was no telling what he was thinking through that thing, but the tension in him seemed to signal that he was listening too, barely breathing. 

“What do you think they're really doing here?”

I whispered but a hand was clasped over my mouth anyways. 

We stayed silent and still, the voices drifted away and we waited another second, two? before squeezing out of the piston housing. 

Looking around the tight aisle between twisted pipes and gauges I spotted an armored door to the left of us and pointed it out. 

“Can we get in there?”

He turned to see what I was looking at and grabbed my hand again, ushering me inbetween the varied obstacles of metal and rust. 

Pull forward, spin to avoid a jet of steam, held to him as we step through a small gap, spun back out front. 

I giggled. 

“What's so funny?”

“Oh, nothing … was just thinking you dance better than some Dukes.”

The motions were so fluid, it was hard not to make the comparison. 

“We're not dancing.”

He pulled me to face him again as he moved me through the next gap, and dipped me under an obtrusive pipe.

“Says you, I’ll definitely need you to escort me to the gala after all this,”

I laughed lightly and we reached the door, it had a good old fashioned magnetic lock. 

Crosshair, ignoring me again, located the power supply line and severed it with a calculated blaster bolt, quickly pushing me back against the forest of metal limbs. 

The lock went dark, and we waited. It didn't seem like any additional alarms were sounded. 

Safe so far. 

To the door and inside, I closed it behind us. 

Quiet … so far. 

I turned to get my bearings, it seemed like we had found our way into a storage warehouse of sorts. Crates stacked high to the ceiling along every wall, and grouped onto the floor through the middle. I couldn't make out anything left or right, being too dark, but the roof was open here in the middle and it filled the room with warm light. 

The clone had removed the ruined helmet and began rubbing dirt into the goo, wiping it clean. Sensing I had a moment, I reached a hand in my bag again. 

This should help!

The cloak draped over me and I slipped my arms into the sleeves. The gray, floor length fabric was light weight but should help protect my skin.

I looked over at Crosshair, hoping to regroup now that we were in the belly of the beast and still no closer to finding a ship of our own. He was still preoccupied trying to get a clear line of sight through the eyepiece. 

Checking both ways down the stacks of crates… there didn't seem to be anyone in here. 

Strange…

I strode over to a grouping of containers near the middle of the room and pressed the mechanism to pop the lid. 

Oh?

I grinned, sifting my fingers through the powder within. I pinched some bringing it close and took a small whiff of the dust. 

After a moment, the sting of the scrapes I sustained in our spirited jaunt through the factory started to subside. Feel good even. 

Spice. Carsunum to be exact. 

I was familiar with the common varieties of Spice, was part of the job. Father made sure I had a decent tolerance at a young age. For protection, of course. Can't be overwhelmed by a small spike slipped by an unscrupulous client. 

Carsunum specifically was rather important to our business, being engineered for a reverse tolerance to battle the addictive nature of the drug. Better for the employees who needed to imbibe frequently with clients. The only reason I could feel it now was due to my familiarity, the feeling was unmistakable. 

I turned to Crosshair, checking the perimeter, and wondered if he ever really partied before. 

Can't be all work, no play, right? Guy’s so tense. 

He finished his sweep and finally turned back to me, standing over an open crate of contraband. 

“What the kriff are you doing?”

I close the lid with a snap. 

“Looking around.”

The tiny dose I inhaled wouldn't do much, but I wasn't feeling aches, pains or that healthy apprehension anymore. 

Ignoring my sudden lack of caution, I turned to investigate the crates shadowed by the overhang. They were behind fencing, with some additional locks.

What do we have here?

I skirted the laced wire, finding a gap that aligned with a lid. It was simple enough to just… reach in and press the latch, allowing the lid to pop open. 

My heart sank a little, as I observed the rows of palm sized, carefully packaged black bricks inside. A hundred? Two? A rough calculation in my head and I felt a little ill. 

I reached in, shimmying one out with my fingertips and carefully extracted it through the fence. 

Crosshair had been trailing me apprehensively, and I turned to show him the small brick. 

“We have to go. Now.”

I turned and eyed the warehouse.

There's got to be a loading dock. Close. 

“What's that?”

I held it up.

“This means that whoever owns this smuggling operation isn't someone to kark around with.”

“Then why did you take one?”

I smiled at that. I had only served this variant of spice to a guest once, it was the type of thing only royals can get their hands on. 

“Cause you keep calling me princess,”

It was mostly a museing, I wasn't really sure myself, but a shyte ton of rare drugs and I wasn't supposed to sneak one?

He stopped me, grabbing the hand with the package and holding it aloft. 

“Put. It. Back.”

I tried to free myself. 

“No, We're wasting time enough let's just go,”

Pew 

The package in my hand burst in a cloud of sparkles and I was being dragged down and behind the stack of crates. 

I watched as the shining dust glimmered for a moment, and then fell into a dark black ash as the sunlight rendered it inert. 

Oh well. 

What was that she had…

I froze. 

We had dove away, the sunlight… I didn't think we had gotten any, but that was fast. 

I turned to Crosshair, who blinked a few times in a dazed kind of way before moving to slip his helmet back on.

Oh I am about to be sooo detrimental…

He was looking at me, stiffening when he realized I wasn't speaking aloud. 

There's wasn't much time to address this little predicament, as we both turned at the cluster of thoughts tingling to our left flank. 

We stood and lifted our gun, we saw… everything. There was a strong, leeward wind. 

There you are old friend. 

We pulled the trigger. We hit our mark. 

I tried to hold onto myself, struggling to quiet my thoughts. It was kind of working, and I sunk into him, becoming small mentally, letting him work as I observed the mechanisms in this ultimate act of voyeurism. 

Another target, another mark made. The wind was our guide. Angles and beautiful shadows, a canvas trapping our enemies in focus.  

His calculations, my metaphors. 

New thoughts, congregating on our right flank. 

We draw our pistol and fire. We stare them down as they round a corner of crates. Squeeze the trigger, one, two, three down. 

I was staring down my arm and a small moment of shock rippled through us. 

I had drawn his side arm and he had used me, my line of sight, to fire behind us. 

This could work

This could work

I let go again. Giving him control and feeling his consciousness burn my cortex as he slipped into my mind purposefully this time. I retreated to the quieter parts of him, nestling into his subconscious, feeling everything that was him around me. The feeling was… exquisite?

No, erotic…

The dark, shadowy silk of his inner workings wrapped in an ever moving spiral around the thought of what I was, holding it together, caressing against the raw concept of me.

It dawned on me why our client may have wanted this stuff and a tremble went through the man against my back as the thought raced from me to him, causing a shot to go wide. 

Later

I purred and sank back into the role of observer, I could feel new calculations forming as he took information from my eyes.

Point, shoot, point, shoot. 

He was hitting the mark but I could feel a mounting frustration at how much slower my body was, the difficulty of controlling two minds, and well, the overall psychedelic effect that was linking us wasn't easy to focus through. 

Despite all that, It didn't cost us much. A bit of effort and we managed to clear the wave of workers that had been closing in. Escape was still the main goal here, we just needed to make it. Perfection comes later. 

We looked around, the extended range of view making us slightly dizzy. There were distant footsteps that grew louder by the moment, signaling more security to fight through. Gotta move before then. 

We picked our way carefully to the far end of the warehouse sliding through another door into a dark, loud chamber. Chains swung threateningly from the ceiling and the floor hung high above a pit I couldn't see the bottom of. The air was hot, heavy with the smell of burning mineral. 

I glanced at my escort, walking in tandem stride. He was superimposed over the image of the walkway, I could see as he did, but the spectacle was the hallucinations. His inner world projecting around us, all storm and thunder and crashing waves. One moment the walkways, the next a tempest. I could almost see raindrops gathering on his armor.

The metal walkway tinked with the sound of non-existent rainfall as we made our way around the drop and through a new set of doors. 

A raucous noise met us as we passed into the next chamber, drowning out the disembodied thunder. Moving machinery again, hot steam, and a hazy dust making it hard to see. I put my hand on the armored back in front of me, trying to stay in step and not think too much. 

The path narrowed between spinning belts and pistons, but it looked like the room beyond opened up. I stuck close as we started the squeeze between the machines. 

We took it slow, shuffling along the tight channel with hot metal just inches to either side of us. 

Yank

I jolted backwards, a sudden force dragging me away. I tightened my hold on the plate I was touching, but the force was too fast and I barely gripped his side before being snapped too far to reach. 

The robe was tightening around my armpits, and I turned to see the hem sucked into one of the belted obstacles, it was disappearing quickly and I could feel Crosshair's mind fighting the panic that now poured from me, trying to find a course of action through the frenzy. 

A swift kick with his boot heel and the belt came loose, giving him time to pull me from the twisted fabric before it slowly wound itself into the gear with a loud whine. 

I was gasping against him, the skin around my shoulders an angry red where the tight fabric had cut into me. There was no doubt some friction burns but I was grateful I couldn't feel it for the moment. 

I get it, universe. No more putting clothes on. 

Regret seemed to shift between us as we emerged from the tiny passage into a wider area.

There

We had spotted the long, port doors that should lead to a dock. Taking steps in unison, we swept the area and made our way across.  

My mind was being flooded with mental schematics. Scenarios. My skills being assessed against them and then rejected. Frustration again. A wish that someone was here. Many someone's. Heartache…

He was drifting into thoughts I wasn't supposed to see. I tried to untangle myself from his synapsis, suddenly conscious of how naked we were to each other, but the glitterstim was still coursing through us. What was he seeing of me? 

I wasn't too sure if these were the normal effects, but I could easily chalk it up to a synchronized will to live and the dosage. I quit trying to close the connection for now, there wasn't any use. 

Stroking the shadows of his subconscious where I was still mostly tethered, I looked at my reflection in the pain that was sinking back into the stormclouds. Feeling the way our lungs and hearts had started to move in unison.

Just a will to not die at the hands and/or pincers of  insectoid drug runners, that's all this is about…

There was a disappointment to that conclusion that wasn't mine. Or was it? It was becoming hard to tell.

I opened the door, we slipped through and into the bright sunlight. It made it easier to parse out which thoughts were all me. We were alone still, a little time before we would be located. 

We had been right about the loading bay. A few commercial ships milled about, with more modest, personal craft lined up behind another fence. 

We clung to the wall, keeping an eye on the few silhouettes moving around the larger vehicles, and made our way to the smaller ships. 

Crosshair took a knee by the fence, and I stepped up, letting him take my foot and lift me over. 

I caught a glimmer of a thought about how small my slipper was, the shape of my legs then I was on the other side of the fence. 

In a moment he was with me, and we moved with purpose scoping out the surrounding cruisers. 

He selected a small craft in black, and tapped the keypad, making sure it was unlocked. 

Of course he goes for the black one.

I heard that. 

I poked him in the rib, and he chuckled, surprising me a little. 

Didn't think you were ticklish. 

I'm not. 

The feeling that talking like this was strange washed through us, and I tried to keep my head clear while we boarded the ship. 

He darted into the cockpit and started checking the fuel and core levels. Can't have another ship explode on us. 

Not great, we'd have to refuel to get to the coordinates. 

Should we pick another? 

He quickly walked out the port and ducked into the ship next to us. It didn’t take long until he was back again. 

They're all stored without fuel. Have to do it ourselves. 

I hopped out with him this time. And we looked back at the loading docks. The bright lights and line up of cargo vehicles made the fueling station obvious. The dock behind it should have separate pumps. 

How do you figure, princess?

I manage a business. One where retrieving shipments, this means hanging out on shipping docks, is one of the many facets of my work.  

I wasn’t able to completely hold back my annoyance, the “princess” thing  was actually rather patronizing. I tolerated it cause… well…

He had winced from the initial irritation rolling off me but settled into a somewhat swaggerish stride by the time my train of thought had petered out and I cursed him a little. Rolling my eyes.

Give a guy a meter.

I’ll- 

…

The thought was cut off abruptly, and I smirked at him, amused.

“You’ll”… What, tough guy?

We need to get to those pumps… and hope a usable ship is close by.

Fine, don't play.

We linked step to the side of the fence and kept low as we picked our way over to where the fueling station was glowing even in the bright sun.

The growing cacophony of thoughts coming from the many cargo ships lined up at the station was reaching the brink of painful as we approached, but the fact that my brain wasn’t frying meant that the glitterstim was starting to wear off a little.

Thank Be’llahl… that could've killed us. 

That would have been your fault. 

Who was waving it around?

Who stole it?

Uhg, What are you twelve? 

Close. 

… 

Wha-?

He put a hand up for me to be quiet, which was stupid, on account of us not actually talking. He got a raised eyebrow in return, but motioned that we had come as even with the pump as we could from here and knelt to help me back over the fence. 

Backtracking… love it. 

Over as swift as the first time except a twisted rod snagged my hem, ripping the already considerable slit a little higher up my hip and I sighed. 

At this rate I might as well just seduce the guards…

I eyed the damage as Crosshair hoisted himself over with lothcat-like grace, contrasting my clumsy performance. 

All of them?

Don't think I could? 

I think they'd kriff you to pieces. 

… Charming visual. 

Staying low now, we made our way through sharp piles of junk and trash, slowly approaching the chugging line of old, beat up, cargo barges. 

Once even with the nearest ship another calculation rippled over him and I was scooped up and held tight as we went up over the embankment and slid down the other side to the packed dirt that made the makeshift ship lane. 

He bolted between two barges as they shifted forward and dived, tucking my head as we rolled and were through, pressed against the opposite ditch of trash. 

I looked up from where I was still held to his shoulder, and scoped a path up and around to a dark hanger behind the main pump site. 

Three separate smaller pumps sat in the shadows, waiting. 

I tried sending him the visual as I saw it but it took a moment. The connection was starting to fade and it was hard to share more than a surface thought. It… ached a little. 

He seemed to get enough of the picture though, and made towards the path I had picked out, putting me down once we had reached decently even ground again. 

A few droids stumbled into our path and were dispatched, but otherwise no hiccups. 

I was starting to grow uneasy. It was taking them too long to find us actually, we shouldn't have had this much time. 

A glance at Crosshair's hurried movements as we entered the hangar was all I needed to confirm he was thinking something similar. We were getting very lucky. Luck doesn't usually last. 

The hangar was empty besides a scattered team of droids loitering around the pumps. Some rapid fire and they were down, and we paused, listening, waiting, finally moving again. Usual looking racks lined the walls holding various tools. Pallets hung from the ceiling stacked with canisters and dark husks of droids.

The pumps we were looking for were at the far back standing by a large, sliding door that had been stuck ajar.  I glanced through it, hoping luck would hold just a bit longer. 

The sun was held back by the long shadow of the roof, and in that shadow…

“Ha!”

I had to stifle the sudden mirth, but it was just so droll. 

Crosshair appeared at my shoulder and I could sense question on him but that was all. 

“Look,”

I whispered instead, pointing through the gap to the ship parked just outside, ready to be filled and launched. 

Small. Green stripes on the hull. 

“Kriff me,”

He chuckled too and leaned against the framed opening. 

“Let's get the kark out of here, Start up one of those pumps, I'm going to clear any stragglers,”

He slipped out silently and I ran to the nearest pump, hoping the long tube would be able to reach the ship’s fuel port and started hitting the energy connections requesting fuel to the line. 

Next, pushing the tube off its hook, I tried hoisting the heavy bundle over my shoulder but stumbled under the weight, clanking loudly against itself. 

No good. 

I stopped, making sure no one was summoned by the clanging and lowered the coiled bundle, taking the pump end and dragging it instead. The soft zip of it uncoiling in the sand put me on edge, it was too soft to carry, but sounded loud to me and I was getting jumpy. 

I left the nozzle by the open door, not thinking it was wise to leave the relative safety of the hanger before Crosshair said it was clear. Instead I checked the status of the pump.

All set. 

A door slammed open towards the middle of the hanger, spilling light suddenly into the shadowed building. I dropped behind the pump but there wasn't anything more solid to duck under. I tried not to breath.

“If I catch that little nerf who cost me a block, a whole Kriffing block, of glitterstim I'm gonna skin her alive. Right in front of that partner of hers. Where'd they go? Were we able to track them on the holocams?”

Shyte, shyte, shyte.

I recognized that voice, rich, velvety and dangerous. 

The steps grew closer, seeming to make straight for the gapped door. 

“Ah hah” 

Busted

I felt a hand yank me up by the hair. 

“Wha-...”

I swung in the woman's grip as she scanned my face, recognition blossoming as she dragged me back to the middle of the building. 

“Tah’nyem Ra? What the absolute varp are you doing in my chop shop, aye?”

“Ha-heh… Ah’Jso. Long time!”

The dark skinned woman didn't let go of my hair as she eyed my torn and dirty nightgown and tattered slippers. 

“Seriously, are you the chewy center to that popped pod we found out there?”

She was looking good, no way of seeing grays in her white dreaded hair, pulled back into a ponytail that reached her calves. 

The last I saw her I had just come of age and was sitting in with my fathers meetings for the first time. During his hostile takeover of Ah’Jso’s district on Coruscant.

Not the best person to bump into. Not the worst though…

“Girl, you owe me quite a lot of credits suddenly, You're a smart one, what do you think that brick cost?”

“Oh, a small million or so?”

“A sma-... Ha, how about 10? You got 10 million credits on you girly?” 

She shook me, sending hot little jolts through my scalp. 

“Not… exactly”

Her grip was tightening in my hair and she was lifting, making me stand on tiptoe. I didn't realize how strong she was but it wasn't surprising. Woman was like, two meters tall. 

I swayed a little, trying to keep balanced. 

“I should send your daddy a slice of that fine ass. The trouble your family causes me.”

She used her free hand to give my rump squeeze and sharp slap. The threat though, was very real and I struggled more ernestly. 

“No need for that, Ah’Jso, hah… we can just call him… and he'll get you the credits.”

Fat chance of that actually…

“This isn't about the credits… do you know how long I've wanted to get back at your father? This is too good to pass up.”

She tossed me at the droids that had accompanied her in and turned away, plotting to make a holocall. I glanced at a shadow that darted into the hanger and back out again, catching a glint off of Crosshair's visor as he found an angle on Ah’Jso.

I tried to catch his eye and shook my head subtly. 

Can't shoot her, Bad for business. I'm probably already causing a lot of disruption as is…

By the amount of spice in the warehouse, and it's proximity to Ga’haiian space, we probably got our spice from her too, and I had just racked up a debt. Not exorbitant, but better not insult her further.

Seriously karked this one up…

“Something else”

I mouthed once I was sure I wasn't being watched. 

Ah’Jso was giddy with preoccupation, wondering what to do with me to make the most impact on my father; it seemed she had forgotten I had backup for now. 

Crosshair's shoulders dropped in what was probably exasperation but he lifted his muzzle, looking for a different way to get me out. 

“Maybe,”

She turned back to me, grinning,

“Maybe I get my biggest, ugliest bugman in here and have him rip your arms out their sockets on call!”

“Sounds… delightful?”

Pew

A bolt briefly lit the hanger, and Ah’Jso glanced around in confusion.

Seconds later, a pallet of canisters fell from the ceiling, one or two igniting on impact with the sandy ground. 

The small explosion threw me and the security droids to the side in a cloud of dust. More blaster bolts and I was being grabbed and dragged, through and out. 

He had already plugged the fuel line into the shuttle ship and hit the button to release it as we passed, spilling fuel onto the ground. 

“And I couldn't shoot her because?”

“Business partner.”

I left it at that as we boarded and slammed the door shut. Lowering myself shakily into a seat in the cockpit I flicked a few prep switches as I went wanting to be moving quickly. 

Another loud boom rang out behind us, the fire had reached a fuel line and the door next to the ship bowed out at the new inferno inside. 

Cross slung into the seat next to me, strapped in and finished the launching procedures. We were moving, directly up in a stuttering motion as we fought a narrow launch path and another explosion threatening to throw the craft into one of the giant scrap piles. 

Just as we cleared the height of the factory walls the fire reached the tanks just below us and the resulting flash threw us the rest of the way clear. He punched the throttle, sending us bolting up through the atmosphere. 

I winced as I observed the fires blooming below us. 

“Shyte… I think she might be dead anyway.”

“They were pirates weren't they?”

“Yeah, guess that's what you'd call ‘em.”

Ah well. Tried to be nice. 

He shrugged, almost too casually,

“Not a crime.”

[drafthorsemath]

Antidote (TBB Tech x afab Reader)

Tech x AFAB Reader (use of she/her pronouns), but all of the Batch included

Word Count: Five words over 3.3k

Warnings: Sex pollen but not the usual trope (no sex and an alternative is found), suggestive sexual language and situations but nothing acted upon, restraining for safety, some strong language, frank description of biological processes, creative use of a tampon, some feelings of shame but they are addressed, NSFW, younglings begone

A/N: I can’t read sex pollen fics. I tried. It wasn’t my thing, but then I got an idea and @staycalmandhugaclone encouraged me so here we are. This is not a call out or meant to be negative toward any sex pollen fics. This is just a different take.

Also on AO3.

You met the Batch on Pabu and in the months since, found yourself spending more and more time with them. This was especially true of Tech. You found his thirst for knowledge and direct nature easy to understand and get along with. Though, you were doing more than getting along. You weren’t sure how to tell him, but you had fallen for him.  His brothers all noticed, but he seemed not to. What you didn’t know was that he simply didn’t know how to bring up his feelings just yet.

The boys had decided to visit a nearby planet and since there didn’t seem to be any danger, no one had any objections to you coming along.  You hadn’t been on a ship since you first traveled to Pabu and you loved watching as you flew through hyperspace. Tech landed just outside of a city and you all headed toward the market. Hunter and Echo went in search of supplies while Wrecker, Tech, and Crosshair all helped buy food to bring back to Pabu. You were particularly interested in the local fruits and vegetables that didn’t grow on the island you called home.

“I think this is enough,” you said, putting down the last crate next to the pile.

“Is it,” Wrecker asked. “I could eat all this in a couple days.”

“Yes, but we’re just getting what we can,” Crosshair responded. He didn’t want to make more than one trip back to the ship.

“Well, we can carry more,” Wrecker retorted. “At least I can.”

Crosshair gave him a half-hearted glare but helped purchase a few more crates.  Wrecker easily carried most of the load.

You turned around to look for Tech.  He was busy scanning some kind of contraption that caught his eye one booth over.

“Ready to go, Tech?”

“In just a moment,” he replied.

Wrecker and Crosshair walked ahead, catching up with Hunter and Echo who were waiting near the edge of town with some ship parts.  You knew a moment for Tech could mean anything from a few seconds to much longer than that but wanted to stay with him.

He put the item down and walked with you. “The wiring on this new style datapad results in faster computations. I want to see if I can rewire my own and achieve similar results.”

“That didn’t look like any datapad I’ve ever seen,” you replied.

“Ah, the outside is only meant to grab your attention. It is a new model. The inside is what interests me.”

You smiled at that.  Tech offered to carry the crate you still had, and you kindly accepted.

Once back at the ship, Wrecker took the crate from Tech. It was decided you all would spend the night on the ship and head back the next day.  Tech cleared his bunk so you would have a place to sleep, insisting he could sleep in a chair.  While you felt it was incredibly nice of him, you also couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to share a bunk with him.  The thought left your mind as he asked if you wanted to come with him to document some of the local flora.  After dinner, the others stayed around the campfire while you and Tech walked over a few hills and to the edge of a forest.  He excitedly took pictures and samples, telling you about each plant and its properties.

“This one has several medicinal uses,” he said, handing you a pink flower. You smiled at it and then back at Tech.  You gathered several and put them in their own storage bag for transport.  Multiple species of flowers were packed before you looked a little further into the woods.

“Tech! Come see!”

He walked over and immediately noticed the large teal blooms that opened as you walked by.

“Fascinating,” he said. He took a picture and noticed that as he got closer to you, the flowers seemed to open even further. He scanned them, looking for any known properties. His face dropped as soon as the results showed up.

“We need to go, mesh’la!”

“What? Why?” You sneezed.

“It may be too late.” He took your hand and briskly walked you out of the woods. Your face suddenly felt hot and your throat burned.

“Tech, I don’t feel well.”

“We must get back to the ship,” he said nearly panicking. “I believe those flowers create an aphrodisiac that specifically affects females of several species.”

No sooner had he said that, and your limbs felt like jelly and you fell against him.  Something wasn’t right. You could swear you felt all your blood rushing to your groin and let out a moan. You tried to run, but felt a great weight on your ankles. Tech lifted you like you weighed nothing and ran toward the Marauder. Hunter stood as he saw his brother carrying your body. Preparing for the worst, the boys all stood up asking what was wrong and following Tech on to the ship.

“A large flower opened, spreading pollen,” Tech stated. “I believe it is an aphrodisiac and it has already started to work.”

He sat you down, scanned you, and confirmed your symptoms. The others stood behind him, looking rather helpless. He sighed and gave you a rundown of what to expect. Very brief fever followed by extremely high libido and high energy until satisfied.

Crosshair looked from you to Tech and asked, “Isn’t there a way she can take care of this on her own? You know? Manually?”

“Negative,” replied Tech. “Based on the information available, orgasm does not help in mitigating the symptoms. It appears this particular pollen only effects females and it does not wear off until either sexual intercourse with a male is completed or her hormones shift with her next menstrual cycle.”

“Next period?!” You really started panicking. “I can’t feel that way for that long!” You wanted to cry and yet you could feel that you had to fight to remain yourself even now. You knew it would only get worse. “Look I… Tech I…” You searched for words, feeling overwhelmed. This was not how you wanted to have this conversation, but it seemed like you had better get it over with. “Tech, I have feelings for you. I really like you, but I don’t want to have sex with you or anyone right now, for that matter and I’m afraid of what I might say or do in the next however long.”

Tech quickly processed the information and couldn’t help but smile. “I believe the feeling is mutual,” he said, still kneeling in front of you. “I promise no one will do anything you would not want done in your healthy state of mind. You have my word.”

“That’s great,” chimed Echo, “And I’m really glad for you two, but how are we going to fix this without waiting?”

“I have an idea,” Tech replied.

No sooner had he said that and the fever hit. You felt like you were on fire and cold as ice at the same time. Wrecker stepped toward you to hold your hand. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said. “If anyone can solve this, it’s Tech.”

You tried to nod. Your whole body shook with fever, but within a few minutes the fever was gone. You knew that you weren’t yourself, but there was no way to stop it. You looked at all five men greedily and started to take your shirt off.

“I want Tech first,” you said with a smirk.

“Now now,” Wrecker said, still next to you and taking your hand away from your shirt. “None of that.”

You tried to stand up and looked at each member of the squad. You giggled to yourself that you just thought about the word “member.” They would do nicely, but you would give anything for Tech to throw you onto his bunk and fuck you through the bottom of the ship. You walked closer to him and he adjusted his googles.

“I know this is not you,” he said.

It quickly became clear that you were going to be quite a handful.  Tech did research as fast as possible, finding flowers that reacted similarly.  Wrecker held you in his lap with his arms wrapped around you after you tried to jump on Hunter as he walked past to assist Tech. He was also trying to keep you from acting out your latest threat of walking up to Tech and sitting in his lap naked. You made several comments about each of the men, but would not stop talking about how much you wanted Tech.

“We know,” Crosshair said, sitting next to Wrecker.

You turned your head toward Crosshair and smiled like an idiot. “Jealous,” you asked him.

“I didn’t say that,” he replied in annoyance.

“It’s okay if you are,” you countered in a sing-song voice.

Your body then decided that since you were sitting on a man’s lap, you might as well start thrusting your hips.

“Nope,” Wrecker said, lifting you off his lap. He was strong, but you were giving him a run for his money with how much you were squirming.

“We’ll sit with her awhile,” Hunter offered, dragging Echo with him. “Crosshair too.”

“What? Why me?”

“Because you’ve only sat next to Wrecker. I think we’ll all have to take some limbs or something.” Wrecker sat you down on the bunk and Hunter held you back before you could lunge at Tech. You nearly yoinked him halfway across the Marauder. Hunter managed to sit you back down with Echo holding one arm, Hunter the other, and Crosshair sitting on the floor hugging your legs.

“This is ridiculous,” you giggled. “Just let me fuck your brother. Just once.”

Hunter sighed. He knew you were going to be upset later. Tech had already discovered that there is no lapse in memory for this particular drug, so you would remember every moment of this.  He hoped you would find solace in the fact that they all knew this wasn’t really you. 

They were all getting tired and while Wrecker wanted to help Tech, he knew there was little he could do, so he tried sleeping until it was his turn to hold you again. Tech worked furiously through the night. He grimaced when you hit the next stage and complained you felt throbbing.  You had gone from flirty to begging for someone to put your out of your misery “with as much cock as possible.” When that didn’t work you cried. He knew it must be painful by this point. He couldn’t stand to hear you cry.  Your body was simply reacting to a drug. He felt guilty for not knowing this plant was in the vicinity, but it had never been documented on this side of the planet before. How could he have known?

In the middle of the night, Wrecker woke to stay with you while Hunter, Echo, and Crosshair tried to get some sleep. You made a lot of noise, but they tried. Wrecker had to admit that he didn’t do any more than doze. They were all worried for you, but being in war and under stress, they had learned to sleep when they can and then get up and do their part when it was time. They got what sleep they could.

You wailed when Wrecker held you, trying to scramble away to get to one of the men. He just kept apologizing and telling you he was keeping you safe. You managed to turn in his lap and wrap your legs around his waist.

He sighed. “I know you don’t want that. Not really.” You started crying again and all you could seem to feel was your pulse between your legs and a chemical drive that would not go away.

At the front of the ship, Tech started to make some progress.  He smiled to himself when he found a research article on this species of plant. He needed one of the pink flowers you’d collected earlier along with two drugs from the med kit.

Hunter hadn’t done much more than close his eyes, but he sensed the med kit being opened and went to try to help his brother.

“Will you restart the campfire,” Tech asked.

“Sure. What progress have you made?”

“We are not able to create or obtain the hormones needed to trigger her menstrual cycle and end this using that method. However, it is theorized that the reason sexual intercourse causes the pollen to cease its effect is because of the presence of semen in the vagina. Specifically, one protein found in seminal fluid. Now, obviously that is not an option for us, but it appears a similar form of this protein can be synthesized using the pollen of some flowers we collected. While not ideal, there are some items in the med kit that can help this chemical process.”

“Great, but how do we get it in her,” Hunter asked.

“We don’t,” answered Crosshair, now standing behind them. “Put whatever you make on a tampon and ask her to do it herself.”

“Would that work,” Echo asked, joining them.

“I believe it is the least invasive option,” Tech replied.

They all nodded. Hunter went outside to start the campfire.  Tech sterilized some equipment and joined him.  It seemed simple enough. He only needed part of the flower and then the heated wound disinfectant along with bacta gel would cause the protein to be isolated. Hunter dug a tampon out of the emergency supplies.

Echo and Crosshair helped Wrecker who held your legs, while the other two sat on either side of you. You were tired, but still acting ravenous. Your method had gone even further in the direction of complaining about how you were hurting, and you just wanted all this to be over. 

“It doesn’t have to be Tech,” you declared. “I’ll take any of you. Please!”  You then melted in Echo’s arm and looked at him with stars in your eyes. “Changed your mind yet? Any of you?”

He simply shook his head, trying to show he cared, and held on so you couldn’t pounce on anyone.  You turned to Crosshair on your other side. He held your arm and tried to help keep you still as best he could. You quickly moved to try to bite his neck and he pulled away. “No thank you,” he said. “I’m saving that for someone special.”

You were trying so hard to fight the drug coursing through your system, but it was a losing battle. After what felt like ages, Tech seemed satisfied with the concoction. There wasn’t much of it, but once it was cool enough he dipped the end of the tampon in the gel and walked back onto the ship. The boys let go enough for you to walk toward him. Your flirty symptoms appeared again, and you wanted Tech so badly. You looked up and down his body with no shame. He really took your breath away.

Tech found your glances made him nervous, but simply cleared his throat.  Just as he was about to explain why he was holding a tampon, you started sniffing the air.

“That smell,” you said.

The men all looked at each other. “Can you smell it,” Hunter asked. “The protein?”

“Whatever it is, I want to sit on it,” you replied with a grin. You homed in on the tampon.

Tech cleared his throat again and explained, “I have created what we hope will reverse the effect of the drug, but you need to insert this yourself.”

Crosshair and Echo were still each holding your arms, but not too tightly. You seemed to calm and they let go. You took the tampon and went to take your pants off, but everyone stopped you. Tech opened the refresher door and you walked in. He closed it and everyone sighed.

“I hope this works,” said Echo. “All I smell is floral bacta gel.”

In the ‘fresher you regarded the tampon with a little suspicion, but your body seemed to be on autopilot. You placed the tampon and immediately the ache started going away. You took slower breaths. You washed your hands and realized your nerves had been on fire for hours.  You looked at yourself in the mirror and felt the heat in your face start to drain. Instead, you realized all that you had said and done, or tried to do. All kinds of emotions flooded your system. You were sure that Hunter could sense the change in you from the other side of the door, so you made no effort to report what was going on. You weren’t sure you wanted to see or talk to any of them yet. You were covered in sweat from all your activity and wanted a shower.  You stripped off your clothes and briefly stood under the water. Just enough to clear away the feeling on your skin.  When you got out, you noticed someone had left you the spare clothes you’d brought, and you slowly put them on. After a few more minutes of staring blankly into the mirror and letting the antidote work, you finally reappeared.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “I didn’t mean all that.”

“We know,” Wrecker said, pulling you into a hug.

“Glad you feel better,” Hunter said.

“Been thinking we might all get some shut eye before we leave,” Echo suggested.  Crosshair nodded with a little smile on his face. For the first time all night, he popped a toothpick in his mouth.

You nodded, thanking them for helping you.

“Especially you, Tech.”

He wasn’t sure what to do. Should he hug you? Hold you? Keep his distance?

“Here,” he said. “If you find you need more to counter the drug, I will put this in a safe place.” He showed you a container with the small puddle of gel he had made using the flowers. You smiled at him.

“How did you figure it out?”

He walked you to the cockpit after closing up the ship as the sun rose. He sat you down, noticing how physically weak you looked. Sitting across from you, he told you about his research and how he found a way to mimic the protein structure that seemed to shut down the drug.  You smiled. Of course Tech would figure it out.

“I’m sorry again,” you said.

“Cyar’ika, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, reaching for your hand. He gave it a soft squeeze and smiled at you. “None of this was your fault.”

You returned the smile and sat back, looking like you might fall asleep.

“Let me help you to bed,” he offered. You took his arm, needing it to steady yourself. Your legs felt like jelly for a whole different reason this time.

You got into bed. In his bunk. The others were already sleeping. Tech sat on the end of the bed, but looked conflicted. When he originally offered to sleep in the pilot’s seat, he didn’t know all of this would happen.

“Tech? Can you stay? Is that okay?”

He nodded, but suddenly seemed a bit nervous. He had never shared a bed with anyone like this. What he said earlier was true. He had feelings for you and knew you had feelings for him. He wanted you to feel safe, so if you wanted him close, he felt it would be alright now, although he wasn’t sure what he was doing as he laid down.

“How would you like me to, uh…”

“Like this,” you replied, taking his hand and laying it across your middle. Not too close or tight, but just there. “But however feels right. I trust you.”

He softly smiled and relaxed. “Goodnight mesh’la.”

[electrikworm]

Under Pressure

Relationships: Echo & Hunter & Omega & Tech & Wrecker

Content Warnings: Bear Traps, Broken Bones, Blood and Injury

Summary:

On a mission, Wrecker's leg is caught in a trap. But Omega isn't going to leave her brother behind, even if he tells her to.

Written for @augustofwhump Day 8: Trap and Attack

Word count: 2,683

Read on Ao3

Omega almost doesn't registers the loud crack that rings out behind her. A bad feeling settles in her stomach at the noise, but she doesn't think much of it.

They're running from a gang they'd crossed and angered during their current mission, and the squad had been split up. Omega hasn't got the time to investigate noises.

“Don't move!” Wrecker shouts suddenly. Doing as told, Omega turns to him. Her brother isn't right behind her like she'd thought, he's standing a good three meters away.

“What's wrong?” Omega fidgets with her bow. Wrecker may have noticed enemies Omega hadn't and she isn't going to be a liability if a fight breaks out.

“They've trapped the grass. Watch where you step.” Wrecker reaches into the the tall vegetation surrounding them, pulling at something.

Scanning the ground around herself, Omega notices a glint of metal near her foot and takes a big step back. It looks cruel, jagged edges lining its sides. Wrecker's been teaching her about explosives, but she can't tell if the object is a mine or an alternative form of trap. Either way, she wouldn't have noticed it if Wrecker hadn't pointed it out.

“What do we do?” Omega asks. None of the plans her brothers have explained to her dealt with traps.

“Watch your step, but keep moving as fast as possible.”

Omega nods, keeping her eyes on the floor as she moves on. But the bad feeling Omega had increases, swirling wildly in her chest. It makes her freeze, turn back to look at Wrecker for reassurance.

He hasn't moved a step.

“Wrecker?” Omega calls. He looks up at her. “What are you doing?”

“Keep walking Omega, fast as you can.” He says.

“Why did you stop?” Omega turns, doing to opposite of what Wrecker asked her to do.

“No, no, turn back around, keep going.” Wrecker says, waving his arms at Omega wildly. “I'll be right behind you.”

“Liar.” Omega hisses, picking up the pace in Wrecker's direction. His weird behaviour is unnerving, making Omega nervous.

“Omega, you have to leave!” Wrecker snaps, voice cracking, but Omega ignores him, crossing the last bit of distance between her and her brother. She gasps.

One of those metal traps is around Wrecker's left legs, its vicious teeth wrapped around his calf. It must have snapped shut with tremendous force, Wrecker's greave bearing large cracks from the impact. It must have still hit skin, blood pooling under the trap, painting the flattened grass red.

“Wrecker...” Omega says, hand over her mouth. The trap is attached to the floor by a chain that seems to continue deep into the ground. Wrecker's pulled some of the chain free. Omega crouches on the ground, staring to dig around the chain. “Can you open it?”

“No.” When Wrecker readjusts his grip on the chain, Omega spots blood running down it from Wrecker's palms, surely a result of him trying to open the trap. “Omega, you can't stay here.”

“You can't either!” She snaps back, pulling on the chain at the same time Wrecker does.

“No, Omega. You have to run.” Wrecker stops to push his helmet up, leaving a bloody handprint on its front. His face is serious, eyebrows drawn tightly together, eyes narrowed. “The people chasing us are dangerous, 'mega. I don't want them anywhere near you.”

Omega scoffs. “We fight dangerous people all the time.”

“They're really bad people.” Wrecker puts his hand on her shoulder. Omega wonders if this has anything to do with what her brothers had discussed without her earlier. “If they catch you, they'll hurt you.”

“They'll hurt you too!” It frustrates her, how her brothers always put her health over theirs.

“They'll use you to get back at us Omega. I can't let that happen.” His voice shakes. “Please go Omega, I can free myself.”

“We can free you faster working together.” When Wrecker tugs on the chain, Omega keeps digging around it. She's not leaving Wrecker behind.

The next time Omega claws at the dirt, she spots something. An anchor, hooking the trap in the ground. But the roots of the surrounding grass have wrapped themselves around it, trapping it further. Omega's fingers can't get through those easily.

Before Wrecker can try and tell her to abandon him again, she draws her bow, firing three quick shots at the roots to burn them off. Wrecker jumps a little.

“Omega!” He exclaims. “What are you doing?”

Without a word, Omega pulls the anchor from the burnt roots and hands it to Wrecker. The thick chain rustles loudly as it moves. “Now we can go.”

Wrecker thanks her, pushing his helmet down just before he starts moving, keeping Omega from seeing the pained expression on his face. She can hear the way he barely keeps himself from crying out though, the muffles noise clear even through the helmet. The step he takes is so unsteady, Omega's worried he'll fall over.

“You should lean on me.” Omega says.

Wrecker laughs weakly. Omega would be upset at him, but it's hard to be mad at your brother when he's bleeding from a likely broken leg. “You're a little too short for that.”

“Then just steady yourself by holding on to me!” Omega huffs. “I don't want you hurt yourself more...”

Sighing, Wrecker puts his hand back on Omega's shoulder. “I'd rather you just hurry ahead without me.”

“Not happening.” Omega says, glaring at Wrecker to demonstrate how serious she is.

Omega guides her limping brother through the grass, announcing every trap she sees. Though if asked, Omega would say calling what Wrecker's doing 'limping' is a bit optimistic. He seems unable to put more than the tiniest bit of weight on the limb, making him hop more than he walks. It looks extremely uncomfortable.

Wrecker's breathing becomes more and more laboured as they walk. He's losing so much blood, but they can't risk slowing down to do first aid. At least she hasn't seen any more traps set up in a while.

“We're almost back at the Maruader.” Omega says, recognizing the general surrounding they left the ship in. Just then, a blaster bolt narrowly passes Omega's helmet. Wrecker pushes her behind himself.

Omega counts seven gang members that caught up to them. She doesn't wait for them to get closer to start firing at them. The grass is still tall here, giving Omega the advantage of ducking down to have some form of cover. Wrecker is not so lucky.

Like they did with the whole squad, they're able to separate Wrecker and Omega from each other, leaving both of them exposed.

Wrecker's got one of the gang members held high in the air with one hand. Omega shoots at an enemy creeping up on her brother in his blind spot, but in turn misses one behind herself. The back of her shirt is grabbed, but before anything else can happen, Wrecker's shot that one in the head.

That's when Wrecker suddenly falls forwards, disappearing in the tall grass. Omega quickly spots why. One of their opponents grabbed the chain attached to the trap around Wrecker's leg and yanked the limb out from under him.

Omega's forced to look away from her brother as multiple gang members start to subdue him when another comes at her.

Just as Omega's about to take a shot, that opponent drops dead. Behind them, Omega spots the rest of their squad. The commotion of combat must have alerted them to Wrecker and Omega's presence.

With the gang occupied with the new arrivals, Omega rushes to Wrecker's side. He's getting up already, but the wound on his leg is bleeding profusely.

“I'm fine, I'm fine.” he says as Omega takes his arm as he stands.

Their brothers are shocked at the sight of Wrecker's leg, not having encountered any traps in their escape path. He is rushed onto the ship quickly, moving faster now he can lean on someone fully.

On the Marauder, Wrecker is made to lay on the floor where there's more space to treat him. Omega sits next to him, wanting to watch and help with first aid, but also be a source of comfort for their brother.

“We shouldn't risk removing armor from the limb whilst the trap is still attached.” Tech says as he inspects the limb. “It is likely keeping you from sustaining even worse injuries.”

Wrecker nods, wringing his hands as he lifts his head enough to look down at his leg.

Once Wrecker's been given something for the pain and a piece of cloth to bite down on, stopping the bleeding is the next step. None of them are familiar with the contraption, so its removal may take a while. They'd all rather Wrecker didn't bleed out in the meantime.

Any open edge of the wound both visible and easily accessed gets gauze pushed into it. Echo keeps a steady hand on Wrecker's chest throughout, though Wrecker remains shockingly still. His face and hands however are an entirely different story. Expression twisted in pain, Wrecker clenches his hands until his knuckles are white. Once or twice, he slams his fist onto the floor, making sure not to do so too near to Omega or Echo.

Omega only leaves to fetch Lula, propping her up against Wrecker's shoulder. With his hands bleeding, Wrecker likely won't hold her now, but he could reach her if he needed to.

“There is no obvious release mechanism.” Tech states after scanning the trap. “How I see it, there are two options for removal. Either we use brute force to pry it open, or I can attempt to deconstruct it to locate what is keeping it shut.”

“Which option would you suggest?” Echo asks, applying temporary bandages to Wrecker's hands to quell the bleeding.

“The first. Having no knowledge of this particular mechanism, I might end up increasing the pressure administered on Wrecker's leg.” Wrecker makes a disapproving, almost fearful noise at Tech's words.

Knowing what happened to Wrecker's hands when he tried to pull the trap apart, they try a different approach. A piece of spare pipe is inserted into the trap at either side. Hunter uses one to hold half the trap to the floor, whilst Tech attempts to wedge it open.

The trap barely moves, the times it does only resulting in more blood spilling from the wound. Wrecker's muffled screams make Omega's chest hurt. He leans his head against Lula, sweat and tears running across his face.

Omega hates this. All they've done so far is cause Wrecker more pain without being any closer to removing the vicious contraption from his leg. Omega wishes she could be more useful.

But then the trap does move, enough for Wrecker to almost pull his leg free. It doesn't stay open nearly long enough, ending up with the teeth dragging along his calf and shutting just a little under the first wound. Omega can see splinters of Wrecker armor being pushed under his skin. Wrecker covers his mouth with his arm, but even muffled by both the limb and the gauze, the noise he makes is awful to hear.

“Kark, Wrecker, are you alright?” Hunter asks, letting go of the pipe he'd been holding like it burned him.

Wrecker mumbles something about the pain being worse now into his arm, making Tech and Hunter exchange a look. Guilt crosses Tech's face as he puts the pipe aside.

“We won't be trying that again.” He mutters to himself.

After the newly exposed wounds are packed with gauze as well, Wrecker's trapped leg is set in Tech's lap. Omega watches as he removes a panel off the bottom of the trap. Tech works slowly, not wanting to risk any mistakes as he takes the mechanism apart.

But even careful as he is, the trap tightens slightly two times, and makes some unidentifiable noise three more times. Each time was followed by a moment of panic, Hunter ready to jam one of the pipes back into the trap would it decide to close further.

Nobody's mentioned it, but Omega knows they're all worried the trap may be strong enough to entirely sever Wrecker's foot. Omega's not sure they could save Wrecker's life if that happened, not with the limited medical supplies they have stocked.

When the trap finally hisses open, Omega lets out a celebratory exclamation. Relief crosses all her brother's faces. Except for Wrecker, he just screams again.

Without the support of the trap, Wrecker's leg is at a strange angle, confirming Omega's suspicion of a break. The med scanner confirms as much a second time.

“Comminuted fractures of the tibia and fibula, displaced in both cases.” Tech announces, making Omega cringe. He reads the rest of the list, boiling down to large amounts of swelling as well as torn skin and muscle both from the teeth and Wrecker's armor. “I would not like to see what would have happened to your leg had you not been wearing armor.”

“Can we deal with that by ourselves?” Hunter speaks like he already knows the answer to that question.

“Certainly not.” Tech says, confirming what Hunter must have been thinking.

“Looks like we're going to have to give the doctor that fixed Tech's femur another visit.” Echo pats Wrecker's arm.

When Omega had heard they'd be visiting a back alley doctor, she imagined a dingy and dirty lab with barely sterile equipment. Instead the doctor they met was a Pantoran vet that did work on the side offering her aid to those not willing to go though the Empire's system. She was nice, and according to Hunter, her fee is fair.

“We'll do what can for now.” Hunter says. “Hang in there vod'ika.”

Wrecker nods, groaning in response.

After what's left of Wrecker's greave is removed, sometimes having to be dug out of his skin, the open wounds are disinfected and wrapped. The limb in then splinted. The whole process is painful to watch. The wound looks awful, skin swollen and a deep shade of purple.

Once the break is prevented from worsening, ice packs are secured around Wrecker's leg. After his hand are cleaned and wrapped as well, there's not much more they can do.

“How are you feeling?” Echo asks.

Removing the wet gauze from his mouth, Wrecker laughs. It sounds a bit like he's going to cry. “Great, perfect. I'm fine, this is fine. I- I could even walk if I had to.”

“Well, don't.” Tech says.

They don't move Wrecker, even if he blocks most of the floor space. Walking past him is difficult, mainly because Omega's worried about bumping into him. Luckily, she doesn't have to do so often, as she lies down next to Wrecker, further blocking the Marauder's floor.

Omega puts her head on Wrecker's shoulder and he leans his on her head. Now his hands are wrapped, he has Lula in them.

“I'm sorry.” Omega says when she hears Wrecker inhaling shakily.

“What're you apologizin' for?” He mumbles, voice hoarse.

“Your leg?”

“Nothing to apologize for, s'not your fault.”

“I'm still sorry you got hurt.” Omega doesn't even want to know how bad Wrecker must be feeling right now. She's never broken a bone, but has learnt enough about them to know how painful they are.

“No one's fault but mine, 'mega.” He sighs. “Rather me than you. You probably would have lost a leg.”

He's right, but Omega hates the situation non the less. She likes going on missions with her brothers, fighting along side them. But the reminder of how quickly something can go wrong hurts.

It was a trap that got Wrecker, nothing she could have logically prevented. But the thought that she should have somehow, could have, if she were better, haunts her. She apologizes to Wrecker again, internally this time. He can't argue against it if he doesn't hear it.

Omega watches Wrecker's chest as it rises and falls. She can see Echo and Hunter from here, watching Wrecker too. Even if they've got an eye on him already, Omega doesn't stop doing so too. That's at least something she can do.