#got one half of the Task done yesterday

[verved]

need someone to go at my brain w a brush and some ajax like it feels so gunked up i cant DO things. god i just need to make a fucking phone call why is this so hard it's just a fucking phone call

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

.

[miodiodavinci]

(sleeps one hour) ohh what god awful task do i have to subject myself to today

[samkerrworshipper]

warmed - mapi leon x reader

just r cockwarming mapi.. not much more to it lol

ik i keep promising yall angst… its coming… at some stage

warnings: smut 18+

You’re overstimulated.

To the point where your skin is beginning to itch with the want and need that is pooling up in the pit of your stomach, right where you feel so full and so empty at the same time.

You fucked up, you were well aware of it, it wasn’t like you could make up for it now.

This though, this was so rewarding and unrewarding at the same time, you were stuffed full to the very brim which was perfect, but also so unfulfilling at the same time.

“Keep still or we start over.”

Mapi’s words are a brutal reminder of exactly what position you are in, crammed down against her lap, ass flush to her hips whilst you try your very hardest not to grind or jostle against her.

An hour and thirty minutes.

That’s how long you’ve been sitting in Mapi’s lap like this, no pleasure, no release, no relief.

The two of you had to rewatch your game from yesterday anyways, so Maria had set you the task of staying still whilst she analysed the match against Levante.

You were supposed to be analysing it as well, but it was kind of hard to pay attention when you were filled to the brim with 7 inches of silicone cock.

You wished Maria had given you the easy way out, wished she’d spanked you or edged you or done something else that would make you feel something besides mellowed out pressure.

“Maria.”

Your words are whined out for the room to hear, not that there is anybody else in your company.

“Eyes on the screen, carino.”

Your eyes struggle to obey her command, your pupils stuck to your naked bottom half that’s unmoving.

“I won’t say it again, eyes on the screen unless you want a spanking once we’re done.”

Your eyes snap up, what you want once this is done is for Mapi to fuck you senseless, you aren’t sure if you can handle another minute with her just idly sitting inside you.

“Eight more minutes princesa, you think you can hold up for me until then?”

You groan at her, you want to say no, but the words can’t make it past your lips, Maria seems to understand though.

“Tough luck, make it through the eight minutes or else you won’t cum for the rest of the week. I’m sick of your shit attitude and bratty fucking mouth, you have to learn some way.”

Mapi’s voice is gritty, you know that she wanted nothing more than to come back from dinner, cuddle up on the couch and watch the game replay before the two of you went to bed together.

She wanted soft, sweet, tender.

You wanted mean, rough and hard.

You supposed this was the halfway point, it was Maria’s way of punishing you without giving in to what you wanted.

You’d been obtusely bratty and cheeky.

The two of you had been invited out for dinner with Alexia and Olga, a little quaint double date to a cute boutique Italian restaurant in Barcelona’s core.

It was nice, everything had been going well, until you’d made the decision to start teasing Mapi.

It had started with a hand on her exposed thigh, then your fingers drawing patterns up and down, pushing her skirt out of the way as you paved a path through to her panties.

You were out of your mind thinking Mapi would let it slide, she told you as much when she leant over to your ear telling you not to push her. You’d blatantly ignored her, continuing your attempts at one upping the defender. You got as far as the inside edge of her panties before her hand was grabbing yours and shoving it into your lap with a look of so much annoyance that you knew you were in deep shit.

Now you were here, sitting practically speared on her dick, your juices leakingout all over her thighs and your own.

You watched the clock run down, your eyes aimlessly following the ball as it was passed from side to side on the pitch.

Your legs were aching from the position you were being held in, your thighs being put to use to keep you from moving.

“Maria, please.”

You knew that most likely, your begging was going to be pointless, normally Mapi couldn’t of cared less, but it was worth a shot.

“Say one more word and you’ll see just how much worse this can get for you.”

You close your lips, your eyes staying laser focused on the screen as the clock ticks down on the game.

The last thirty seconds are possibly the worst, your legs start to burn and everything is so much more painful.

As soon as the final whistle blows on the game Mapi is turning you around, so you are now face to face with the Spaniard.

“This is how it’s going to go, we’re going to go to bed, I’m going to fuck you how I like, until I’m satisfied, you won’t cum, you won’t move unless you’re told, all you are here for is to be my little slut for my pleasure, not your own, comprendida?”

You can’t do anything beyond nodding your head.

Mapi picks you up with ease, lifting you up and taking you straight to the bedroom.

Just the feeling of her cock jolting inside of you every few seconds has you moaning, Mapi doesn’t care, all she cares about is getting you to where she wants you.

She manhandles and roughouses you onto the bed, pushing you up against the pillows and spreading your legs open before beginning to move inside of you.

Mapi’s pace is nowhere near fast or rigorous enough to satisfy you, when she said that she was searching for her own pleasure you didn’t realise that she would quite literally use your body as a vessel for her orgasm.

There is no doubt in your mind that Mapi has the little vibe insert tucked into the strap.

Her thrusts into you are shallow, hitting none of the spots that you need her to.

It’s crazily unpleasurable, and yet you don’t find yourself minding too much, especially not when Maria is the picture of perfection, her messy bun bopping up and down, her moans echoing out across the room.

You focus on Mapi, completely syncing out of your own mind, trying to imagine how Mapi is feeling.

You know that your supposed ‘punishment’ would have gotten her worked up, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

She’s chasing a built up desire, deep pure pleasure thrumming through her lower limbs.

Maria isn’t a overly loud lover, but you can tell just by the way her eyebrows are scrunched up and her pupils are blown that she is teetering somewhere on the edge, you aren’t quite sure where she’s at until her legs spasm and her whole body jerks.

Mapi cums hard and fast, her body thrusting into yours until the after effects of her orgasm have managed to rid her body and she pulls out.

You feel emptier than you ever have, most likely a result of being stuffed full for hours on end.

Mapi makes quick work of removing the strap, once she does she lies herself down on the bed next to you, letting you breathe through the big feelings that you are experiencing.

“How are you feeling, princesa?”

Mapi’s hands are on your face, twisting the strays hairs out of your face and gently playing with them between her fingers.

“Good, just need a second.”

Your legs feel heavier than a hundred bricks, numb and weighed down to the point where you genuinely wonder whether they’ll be in use tomorrow.

“You want to cum? I think you’ve earned it, you were such a good little girl for me, princesa.”

You do want your own orgasm, you think that your cunt will implode if it doesn’t get to experience some relief, but you need a few minutes to recover from the last hours happenings.

“Just gimme a minute, seeing you like that made me think and feel things I never had.”

Mapi’s smirk was cheeky, cavalier and slightly proud.

“Mm, next time it’ll have to be three hours, hmm? I wonder how crazy that would make you.”

You shake your head at the suggestion immediately, an hour and a half had been pushing it, 3 hours was simply ridiculous.

“How about I promise to never be a brat again?”

Mapi rolls her eyes, her mouth reaching down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“We both know that would be a lie, carino. You’re my bratty girl and I wouldn’t dare have you any other way. Now how about we go get clean in the shower and I let you get off on my thigh, hm? You’ve been good but not good enough to deserve my mouth or fingers, you’ll have to work your way up to that.”

You nod eagerly at Maria, already willing your legs to begin moving so that Mapi can’t take back what she’s just said to you.

When Mapi realises that you need some assistance, she picks you up, gently carrying you towards the bathroom.

[searchingforserendipity25]

There are some things Davenport knows.

He counts them sometimes, the things he knows.

His name; how to tie his shoes with twelve different knots; how the Madame Director likes her coffee.

The rules of playing Fantasy Chess, and how to cheat at Fantasy Chess too.

How to tell when someone is afraid

How to make his bed, so tight and neat he can drop a coin on it and it jumps, newly polished and gleaming, right back into his hand

How to bandage up to twenty different kinds of injuries

How to make the best sea chowder on the Moon Base, and also on the planet

How to press a uniform so it lasts a week and several explosions with no crinkled corners

How to organise reports with proper colour-coding techniques

Not a great many words, when it comes to that - slippery as fishtails, words, hard to grasp in the mind and impossible to put into his mouth

How to laugh, and how to cry

How to be helpful, if not always in the most efficient way

Some very complicated geometry and arithmetic, though not the word for geometry, nor how to write down an equation to explain how he got his results.His name, the names of his colleagues, where he is, what time of the day it is, what happened yesterday.

His name, his name, even when he doesn't know anything else, his name is Davenport -

Most days, anyway

He cries, sometimes, over bowls of spicy soup and at cute dogs, when someone leaves a book half-open on the table - when he sees groups of people laughing, and when he's alone for a long time. He is rarely alone. The Madame Director finds him, every time. Brings him biscuits and jam, shares puzzles, gives him folders to file.

She tries to teach him new words from brightly coloured books, sometimes. Not often; Davenport hates to make her unhappy, and she looks very sad, whenever he fails. He hates failing - this he knows for certain. But regardless of what he does, the Director is sad a lot of the time. Busy, busy; but she goes very still, late at night, and writes lists in strange languages with shifting characters, and then burns them, with a look on her face like stone, like a closed fist. He sweeps the ashes, afterwards; there's nothing in them he can understand.

No one sees her in those hours. Only Davenport is there, with no one else around. Davenport does not count as company, really. Or at least the Madame Director trusts him enough to let him see her when it's very late and she is very tired, and there is too much work for a night's rest.

It's nice, being trusted. Davenport likes it, likes his little tasks, his schedule and his friends. He knows every corner of the Moon Base, except the ones he is not supposed to enter; he has a little map sewn into his coat pocket, for when he forgets he knows every corner of the Moon Base.

He loves slow music, and sea chowder, and to drink his tea (the Director makes it, sometimes; she knows just how he likes it) while standing behind the transparent windows and watch the planet down below, all green and blue and changeful, like a face with many moods.

He knows he likes these things.

It is only that, sometimes, Davenport is very full of a painful feeling, a feeling like being full of smoldering fire, a feeling like --

Anger has no face, no colour. Davenport does not know a lot of things; sometimes he grasps at the softened edges of his mind, looking for something sharp enough to cut himself with. Davenport is angry, sometimes, though he has no words for it. Sometimes, anger is the only real thing in Davenport's world, the first thing he ever knew.

And then he forgets about it.

There are few things Davenport knows. He can feel the shape of something very important, prodding at him, filling him up with a warm, unpleasant energy. It is there when he wakes, for a handful of moments - every day, in the dreaming place between wakefulness and sleep. Like a dream, it fades before he is done dressing for the day. He has no words for it. The truth is, most days Davenport only knows his name is Davenport, and the worst of it is Davenport forgets there might be anything missing.

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LADS Xavier: Galaxy Hands | SFW

Look at me. LOOK AT ME. I dun wanna hear nufin about bad typos in this one. I just got my nails done yesterday and they're so long in comparison to how they normally are. I am learning how to type all over again and ya...this was written in fifteen minutes.

Pairings Xavier x Reader Warnings None Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

```You had decided, for once, to treat yourself. To paint your nails despite knowing that while working tomorrow they would probably get ruined in some way. You knew your job wasn't exactly one where you could have fancy nails, so you felt it simple. Instead of going somewhere, you opted to just do it yourself.

Xavier hadn't questioned it when you showed up to his home with a small box in hand, nor did he ask why you were setting things up in his living room. Instead he just sat and watched as you got out the polishes and began working on your hands.

He was snacking, enjoying some pocky while watching you from the couch. The way you were sat on the floor, relaxed, and just focused on the task. It was relaxing for you, the small motions, waiting for it to dry between coats, and then finishing it. It had taken a good half hour, and the entire time the apartment was basked in silence.

When you finally looked at them, you smiled. It was simple, a black undercoat with a holographic purple and blue on top of it. The way the top coat made it shine had you staring at them for a little longer than you normally would.

Then you felt a hand taking your own and you looked to see Xavier. He was staring at the design on your hand with a gentle look in those beautiful blue eyes of his, "It looks like a starry sky." he finally said, breaking the silence that had been there since you had first come over.

"I know, I wasn't expecting it. This is the first time I tried this polish." You admitted. You had expected it to look nice, but you hadn't expected to have a literal galaxy on your nails when you had finished them.

You blushed when Xavier brought your hand up to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss onto the knuckles of your hand. Your nails were, at this point, mainly dry, but he was still being so delicate with them that it surprised you.

"I like them." He finally said, "Why don't you paint your nails for often? You're pretty good at it." he noted as he looked them over. It was like he was transfixed on your hands at the moment and you let out a nervous chuckle.

"I mean, they'll just be ruined tomorrow while I'm at work. Doesn't make sense to do them every day." you pointed out and he nodded.

"Aren't there ways to make them last longer?" his finger were gently playing with your hand as he looked at you. "I know I've seen Tara with her nails done a few times." what he really meant was how he had seen Tara shoving her hands in your face before to gush about her nails, but that was neither here nor there.

"I mean I guess if I got them done professionally with a gel or something they'd last longer." You murmured.

"Then how about on your next day off you do that?" Xavier suggested, "It's clear you like your nails like this."

"I feel like you're enjoying them more." you pointed out, taking your hand away from his to gently bop his nose with one finger. He gave you an amused smile as he took your hand back and placed it on his cheek.

"I do. We can go together if you'd like." he said and you gave him a questioning glance.

"Oh, and are you going to get your nails done as well?" You pinched his cheek and he gave you a soft smile.

"Perhaps. Would it make you happy if I did?"

You took a moment to think about it. Xavier did have pretty hands, and his nail bed was long. Even if he kept his nails short, there was a lot you could do with them. "Ya, I think it would. I'll ask Tara where she goes tomorrow and make an appointment for us." you said as you leaned down. You pressede a quick kiss to his nose and he looked at you with a pout.

"You missed…" he muttered, and before you could ask what he meant, his lips were pressing against your own. You hummed into it, savoring the feeling of his mouth on yours as he pulled away, "There, that's better." he said, then quickly kissed your cheek. He went to grab your hand again, staring at the color for a moment more, "Now…how about we get some dinner."```

[b1rds3ye]

hi!!! i LOVE the masked reader content 😭💞 my hyperfixated brain is thanking u deeply

can i request a masked (w LEDs bc i love it sm) reader who's saying "i cant believe you guys didnt notice my new haircut" or something similar, having a :( face on their mask and 141 is so confused like "we cant see your hair" "you have hair? kinda thought u were bald" stuff like that 😭 its a weird idea but im craving stupid platonic fluff like that

ty for the masked reader content love u sm for it

Hehehe as someone who hyperfixates a lot I am flattered I can induce it onto someone else LMAO Just a lil Drabble for this one I couldn’t think up of much 😅

“You pissed ‘em off,” Ghost observes and Soap’s face drops into one of sheer betrayal.

“That was one time 'n' now you a' think it’s me?” Johnny jerks his head to the side in annoyance. “What about when cap’n-”

“I’m sure they can hear you,” Gaz whisper-shouts as he gestures to you. The rest of the task force look over to you sitting on the couch at the far end of the common room. Absentmindedly watching the shared television, your arms are folded with your mask in a perpetual "-_-". You make no indication that you heard them, no, you were fully set on ignoring them all morning.

"Captain what should we do?" Kyle asks.

"This isn't a mission Kyle, we can talk it out," Price sighs.

"Care to do the honours, then?"

Price stills, beady eyes sparing a glance at your unmoving figure. If the rest of the task force didn't know any better, they would think the unwavering captain was scared.

"'m busy," he replies gruffly.

"Busy" being him fishing around in his pocket for a new cigar for an impossibly long amount of time until his subordinates let him off the hook.

"L.T.?" Johnny looks to the next superior officer, to which Simon only responds with a half-hearted grunt. In truth, Simon and John have always been good at figuring out your mood. This is one of the few times they've been left stumped, clear through the silent conversation they shared as they looked at each other.

"Cowards," Johnny mutters to himself before stomping up to you, with a drawn out, sing-song (but horrendously out of tune) "bonnieeeee" announcing his presence to you. You don't even flinch.

Johnny saddles himself beside you, leaning into you. He offers you his sweetest puppy-dogs to try and placate you before he tests the waters.

"So... what's up?"

The rest of the task force was slowly joining Johnny, you could tell as Price's cigar smoke became more pungent. An explosive move by you has these grown men flinching as you pull out a strip of paper and slam it on the coffee table in front of you, mask flitting to an angry face all the while before returning to "-_-".

Simon reaches the paper first. Delicately opening the thin parchment as Kyle and John peer over his shoulder. Johnny looks up at them but stays by your side.

Simon looks at you.

"A hairdresser?"

"Got it done yesterday," you seethe. "And no one bloody noticed. They're not cheap, you know!"

Johnny tries putting a hand on your shoulder but you jerk it away. There's a heavy moment of silence as you keep laser focused on whatever the hell the television is playing. Your hands grip your biceps as you ensure they stay crossed.

Kyle eventually submits. He kneels before you, not daring to take up all the view of the screen, but just enough for him to be sure you were aware of him.

"Love, I'm gonna ask you a question. Please don't take this the wrong way."

"What?" you grumble.

Kyle takes an audible inhale. He receives an encouraging nod from Price and he needs to take a swallow to prepare. Even you have to admit the anticipation is killing you now, you offer him the relief that he indeed has your attention, mask now set with "?" over the eyes.

"... you have hair?"

You groan and swat him away as Johnny bursts out laughing. Leaning forward with your head in your hands you try to make it seem like your shaking shoulders were from devastation and not because you were laughing too.

"No, Kyle, I just thought I'd go to a hair dresser and admire everyone else's hairdos," you retort once you've recollected yourself.

"Thought you were bald," Simon muses.

"Right back at you, Skull Face."

"I'm sure it looks good, sergeant," Price encourages as he takes the receipt from Simon, inspecting the details.

"At least someone appreciates my efforts unlike the rest of you."

"How about we appreciate it more then, bonnie?" Johnny leans in mischievously. "Take that mask off. Show us how good it looks."

"Actually, I- uh... I got my hair treated. Need to keep this mask on, let it set, you know?"

Kyle tilts his head.

"That's not how it works-?"

"I've been waiting for this bit!" You exclaim as you point at the television screen. Kyle shakes his head with a smile before joining you on the couch, opposite to Johnny. Simon and John also situate themselves around the room, far enough for personal distance but close enough to still take part in conversations, and it's now a typical off-day for the 141. They may not be able to see your face - nor your improved hair - for now, but perhaps one day they'll be graced with the sight. For now, these antics around base will suffice.

Call of Duty Navigation Masked Reader Masterlist

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: How M6 act when they're sleep deprived

Julian

What do you mean? This is his permanent state of functioning, MC, he wouldn't know who he was if he wasn't exhausted

Now give him back his coffee. He wasn't done with that

Julian's version of properly sleep deprived is akin to a normal person's version of "so close to dead they've never felt more alive"

You'll only know he's at the true edge of his exhaustion when his eyebrows reach a new height of bushiness and his pupils dilate to two tiny pinpricks of black in a sea of shaky grey

His normal eye will be so bloodshot that you'll have a hard time telling which one needs an eyepatch over it

Be prepared for the theatre kid plague doctor version of zoomies

Were you hoping to read your book quietly? Not anymore!! Allow him to spice up your story by assigning different voices to your beloved characters and loudly reading them from atop the table

Better yet, watch him vault from the table to the windowsill as he demonstrates the dashing hero's getaway!

The plot takes a turn as the book goes flying into the sink and he continues undaunted, improvising a three person fight scene with the lid off your soup pot and the fire poker

This ends when you either guilt him into bed or he crashes mid-sentence

Asra

To say that they don't take well to being sleep-deprived is an understatement. They exist in a constant state of "just rolled out of bed and will happily roll back in." Life revolves around sleeping in

He can lose an hour or two of sleep here and there. It's not even super unusual for him to accidentally stay up into the wee hours of the morning because he got stuck in a curiosity spiral

But they usually make up for it with cat naps through the next day. When that proves impossible, though -

There's no nice way to put it. He's grumpy. Irritable. His tendency to make sarcastic, cutting comments about things he doesn't like increases tenfold

Their hair gets frizzy, the annoyed wrinkles around their eyes could rival an elephant's, and their usual easygoing expression is replaced with a scowl so deeply disgusted by existence that it rivals Muriel's

He doesn't yell or snap - no, he just stumbles through the shop with his hair in his eyes and a random object in his hand (is that a half finished rendering of the Palace carved on a banana peel?)

Be prepared for them to mumble out all kinds of hilarious swear combinations as they give you their real opinion on yesterday's finnicky shop patron. They'll read her outfit to filth

Nadia

She just gets stressed and depressed

And depending on how bad the deprivation is, slightly panicked

First she gets stuck asleep for literal years. Then after waking up she can't sleep enough, thanks to headaches and nightmares. She's just so done with the discomfort of it all

She also associates you with being able to sleep in a way that is safe and restful, so you're about to become a personal stuffie

If you complain, she'll immediately apologize and leave you to go about your day. Otherwise she doesn't realize what she's doing

You're coming with her. Everywhere

She's either got your arm looped through hers, her hand holding yours, or (depending on your height) your shoulders tucked firmly into her side while she runs her fingers through your hair

She will instinctively tighten her grip on you if you squirm

If she gets too lost in thought while she tries to get her tasks out of the way, she will bodily pick you up and carry you from room to room like an animate teddy bear. You are her comfort item now

Forgets to verbalize her thoughts. The plan is so clear inside her head, no need to pause to enact it

Which is how you ended up plopped on a horse with 0 explanation

Muriel

Oh dear

His anxiety skyrockets. Sleep is his coping mechanism for an ugly world. Sleep is an escape. And now sleep is ... unavailable???

His personality slowly shifts. Is he still grumpy? Yes, but faster now. Without access to the thing that helps him feel safe, he's full of anxious energy to the point of becoming frantic

Starts obsessively doing everything he can so that sleep is possible again. Is there a lot to get done? move out of the way.

Is it insomnia? He's trying everything from filling the hut with myrrh to making an uncharacteristic march into town so he can raid the shop for remedies while Asra looks on, jaw on the floor

He'll do anything, just let him sleep

Absolutely refuses to have anything to do with alcohol to make him drowsy, though. The same goes for any type of strong sleeping enchantments, medicines, or potions

He wants to maintain control over his body

It was a strange experience to come back after a day out to find the entire hut rearranged, with a borderline manic Muriel pacing the floor and muttering to himself about "something soothing"

Apparently that was you, by the way, you were all he needed. He took one look at you, heaved a sigh of relief, and then dozed off to the sound of you puttering around

Portia

For someone who's usually so cheery and on top of things, she gets really mellow and spacey - almost childlike

You will have to repeat yourself up to five times before she's able to process your question and tell you that she moved your shoes to the closet because she needed to sweep earlier

Slow frog blinks, first one eye, and then the other

Keeps putting stuff down where it's not supposed to go and then completely forgetting about them

Why is there a wet bar of soap on her pillow. Why is there a teacup half-buried in the garden. Why is Pepi covered in flour

If the reason for her sleep deprivation is overwork, there's no chance of her getting anything more done until she's had a full eight hours of rest. She physically cannot focus enough

If the reason is just insomnia, she just gets sad. One glance at Pepi curled up into a cute little roll and snoozing in a sunbeam will lead to silent tears pouring down her cheeks and quiet sniffles

Gets so so sweet - she already is, of course, but to a whole new degree. If you bring her a cup of soothing herbal tea, she'll look at you like you're a fairy and whisper "thank you" while she cradles it

A good backrub is usually all she needs to conk out

Lucio

He values his beauty sleep and he is not happy when he doesn't get it. Do you know what it takes to maintain skin like his??

Loud and cranky but refuses to acknowledge why

He wouldn't feel this lousy just from not getting enough sleep! What are you talking about? This is clearly some kind of foul magic or sickness at work - check his temperature! Is that a fever??

He doesn't need sleep, he needs answers. Who's fault is this? Who does he need to beat up? Leave him alone!

Wait no no no he didn't mean that, don't leave him alone, MC please, he loves you, don't go (note: you haven't moved)

He knows what he needs to do. He needs to hunt down whoever or whatever is causing this misery and force them to put an end to it

It must be some kind of curse. Loud noises hurt his ears, the sun is too bright, his eyes are tired and itchy, his brain is full of fog, his whole body feels slow and heavy, this isn't right!

Maybe this is actually his cue to throw a party - no? Yeah okay, he wasn't really feeling up for one anyways

Which is clearly another symptom of the curse! MC, help him!

You'll have to change tactics and tell him that you'll only be able to help him kill the curse if he falls asleep so you can see his dreams

[axelsagewrites]

Could I request Alpha!Rhaenyra x omega!handmaiden!reader where they’re drawn to each other from the moment they meet and bond over their mutual trust issues regarding losing loved ones while slowly falling in love on Dragonstone? Like Nyra is cold and distant with everyone else, hesitant to let anyone in, but she just clicks with reader and whenever they’re alone, Nyra just melts and goes all soft, all affectionate touches and sweet nicknames and tender looks? (Two of my fav nicknames she’d call reader are: my little one, and Perzītsos (little flame) Maybe even some soft smut? It doesn’t have to be omegaverse if you’re not comfortable with writing it

Rhaenyra Targaryen*Perzītsos

Pairings: Rhaenyra x handmaiden!f!reader

Warnings: mentions of loss, family death, grieving, smut, fingering, f!recieiving oral, nipple play, pet names, soft smut 18+

Word count: 3110

A/N: trying to pick between emma and millie for a Rhaenyra gif is a near impossible decision

also i wouldve done the omega and alpha things but i havent really read much like that so i didnt wanna accidentally butcher it so i hope this was okay!

Masterlist Here

Translations

Perzītsos (little flame) ñuha dōna (my sweet)

All the servants had lined up, backs pressed against the stone walls of the corridor, waiting for the princess arrival. Heads bowed, hands whipping sweat on their skirts, hushed whispers to see if anyone had caught a glimpse of her yet. The sound of dragon wings batting through the skies alerted you all to her arrival.

Rhaenyra barely looked at anyone, let alone the servants as she walked the halls of her new home. As she spoke to the lords of Dragonstone at the entrance you took the moment to take her in. Her long silver hair was windswept from the fight, cascading down her back, yet somehow not tangled from the flight. She didn’t wear what you would expect of a princess, instead clad in leather and bright red cloth for ease of riding. Her eyes were the softest of lilacs, staring at you like flowers.

Oh fuck! You thought as your eyes snapped to the ground. She had caught your stares and you could only hope from this distance she did not see your embarrassment. What you hadn’t saw was the slight smirk on her face or the way her eyes lingered on you as she passed you by. Your new boss had told you yesterday you would be one of her many handmaidens and not to expect any great things out of washing the princess delicates so to keep your head down. You’d only arrived last week, and you had already made the first mistake.

You had hoped to spend the rest of your life with your family in Old Town even if only as a servant, but a fire had made that impossible. You escaped with your life but had lost it at the same time. One of the lords of the manor you worked in took pity on you and had you sent here so to not have to suffer the memories. Yet Dragonstone was cold, its walls empty and dark, and its people sombre even when greeting their princess.

The princess had been practically locked in her chamber for the past week, barely saying two words to her servants at a time. her eyes would always watch your every move as you cleaned her room. She never even let you do half your tasks and wouldn’t allow anyone to touch her. she was cold but you could not blame her since you too missed home, even if home was so different for you both. “Take these to the princess for her bath,” the head maid shoved a small chest into your hands before stacking towels on top. “She’s in a right grouchy mood for someone who has everything,” the woman muttered as she stomped off.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you set off to the princess’s chambers. they had made you walk this path till your feet felt like they were going to crack to make sure you never got lost however as you stood in front of the door you kind of wish you had got lost. Taking a deep breath, you steadied the chest on your hip and knocked on the heavy wooden door. a moment passed before someone called out, “Come in,”

When your hand took the handle, you hadn’t expected the door to be so heavy. You shuffled forward, shoving the door open by your shoulder as you struggled to move the wood while balancing the chest. When you finally got in the room you were met again with those violet eyes. Rhaenyra smirked as she watched your head drop in embarrassment as you quickly shuffled in the room.

“Need a hand?” she asked as she stood from the bed she had been sitting on.

“It’s alright my princess I’ve got it- “you started to say as you placed the towels on the table beside the steaming hot bath when crash. The chest slipped from your hip and hit the ground, the wooden corner splintering and the top breaking over. “No,” you gasped as you knelt down to try put all the bath salts and fragrances back into the chest.

You heard footsteps but didn’t look up till Rhaenyra’s hand shot out to pick up one of the bottles, “Let me help you,” she said softly, ignoring the way you gaped at her. up close those eyes seemed even more magical, “Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes meeting you.

You realised she had picked up all the pieces and quickly went to stand, “Yes princess, thank you princess, princess I- “

“Rhaenyra,” she cut you off.

Pausing for a moment, eyes scrunched in confusion, before you nodded, “Princess Rhaynera I- “your sentence was cut off by her soft giggles.

“No please just call me Rhaenyra. In my chambers at least. Id like some form of normalcy at least,” Rhaenyra said as she stood up, but she did not move back as you began to lay out the bath supplies on the table. It seemed almost that she stepped closer. “What is your name?” she asked, her breath brushing the back of your neck.

You turned around, trying to stand tall, as you told her. “A beautiful name,” she said, her lips finally curved into a smile. It suited her face far better than her usual melancholy. “Are you here to ready the bath?”

“Yes pri- “you said, stopping suddenly with an awkward smile, “Rhaenyra. It will only be a few moments longer,”

“Thank you,” Rhaenyra said, a slight laugh in her voice as she stepped away to begin taking her jewellery off.

As you poured the salts in you decided to try actually speaking to her, perhaps she just missed conversation you thought. “I can help you with that,” you said causing her to spin round, “if you give me a moment of course,” you said as you stirred the salts in before picking up the bottle of fragrance the king had sent in spades for her.

“I know how to take my own jewellery off,” she said, turning away again.

“I did not mean to offend you,” you said quietly as the sweet smell filled the room, “I just like to be of help,”

Rhaenyra chuckled as she sat her jewels down, small things that cost more than your life, “I don’t think anyone could help me truly,” she said as she began to tie her hair up.

“Maybe,” you said as you laid out the towels, “but you never know till you ask. My mother always told me that,” you said, pausing for a moment in the sweet memory. She had always been so positive.

Rhaenyra paused briefly before finishing her hair. “Mothers always seem so wise,” she said as she looked out the window, “Till they die that is,” she muttered as her hands moved to try unstringing the laces behind her back.

“You don’t miss the fire till it’s gone cold,” you said as you checked the waters temperature, deciding the bath was in fact ready. Rhaenyra turned round with a questioning look, abandoning her futile attempts to undress herself, “That’s what my lord told me when I lost mine. Would you like me to get the laces princess?” you asked, somehow managing to stay calm as you spoke.

Rhaenyra nodded and you moved to stand behind her, gently loosening the dress, “Do you miss her?” Rhaenyra asked as the dress was loose enough for her to slip off her shoulders.

“Everyday,” you said as you picked up the heavy fabric and attempted to fold it.

“Me too,” she sighed as she moved to help you fold the dress, “Does it get easier?”

“No,” you said honestly as you bundled the gown into a drawer, “but it hurts less, in time,”

Rhaenyra didn’t say anything as she walked towards the bath. You silently helped her slip into the hot water, her shift going see through in the water, but you quickly averted your eyes. “Goodnight Rhaenyra,” you said as you bowed your head and went to leave.

“Wait,” she called out as your hand rested on the door handle, “Could you stay?” she said, her voice going quiet as she averted her gaze, “You could brush my hair?” she asked with a hopeful smile.

“Of course,” you smiled back at her, “It would be my pleasure princess- “

“Rhae,” she said cutting you off. “Call me Rhae,” she said as she settled back in the water.

“Okay Rhae,” you said as you moved a stool to sit behind her bath and took a brush in your hand, “Lean back,” you said as you took down her hair and began to brush.

Rhaenyra began requesting you daily for certain tasks. You would be the one to brush her hair, help her dress, arrange her bath. At first Rhaenyra would listen to your stories as you did your chores. She was nearly always silent when you did so, asking maybe one or two questions the whole time but always insisting you continued when you stopped.

Then she began to tell you, her stories. About her first time on a dragon, about her father’s new wife, and her mother’s death. Slowly she opened up more and more. You began to see her outside of chores. She’d have you sneak out to join her dinners or even a few times let you meet her dragon with the promise of a ride on it one day. Your meetings got longer and her words sweeter. Her hand began to linger when she would pass you the brush or your hands rested a moment too long on her shoulders until the day you kissed her without even thinking.

You had been helping her dress and had moved to her front to adjust the material. “All done,” you said, suddenly looking up from where your head had been tilted down to fix the bodice when your nose brushed against hers. Her lips brushed yours as your head moved up, her eyes gazing into yours and without a thought or a word you leaned forward closing the gap. It was a short but soft kiss, and you pulled back, wide eyed and almost teary as you expected to be scolded when Rhaenyra stepped forward.

Her lips crashed onto yours, her hands moving to hold your back and press you into her tighter. Your hands had been trapped between your bodies and snaked up her front to rest on her shoulders. This kiss was desperate, hungry, and so needy that you didn’t part for air till your head grew dizzy. “You shall dine with me tonight,” she whispered, her forehead resting on yours, “and I will count down the minutes till I return to find you in these chambers,”

That had been weeks ago. Now you lay in a bed of fine silks and furs, a silver haired girl laying with her head on your chest as you stroked her soft strands. “Rhae?” you asked quietly, “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” she whispered back. You couldn’t help but smile at her voice, “I’m just enjoying your company Perzītsos,” little flame, she whispered still in the quiet room only lit by a few candles. She had given you one of her shifts to wear as you settled into the bed with her, and it felt like clouds on your skin. “Is that wrong of me?” she asked as she brought your hand to her mouth to kiss.

“Not at all zaldrīzes,” you said, kissing the top of her head.

“Your Valyrian is improving,” you could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke.

You smiled down at the girl curled in your lap, “Only because of my teacher,” you said.

Rhaenyra shuffled and moved to sit up, her legs draped over your lap as she curled into you, her head resting on your shoulder, “It is easy to teach such a willing student,” she praised, kissing your check.

You turned your head, resting your forehead on hers before capturing her kiss. Her hand moved to hold your cheeks while yours softly squeezed her hip. Without a word Rhaenyra moved to straddle your legs before crashing her lips back to yours, holding your face gently. The kiss was comfortable, the type of kiss you melt into. Your hands moved from her hips to her back, pressing her chest into yours as she led the kiss.

Rhaenyra’s hands slipped down from your face between your bodies, resting over the thin fabric covering your chest. “Patience little one,” she giggled as she pushed back, “Good things come to those who wait,”

“I’ve been waiting for someone like you for a long time Nyra,” you panted before rejoining your lips, your hands slipping down to squeeze her ass over her shift.

Rhaenyra’s hands slipped off your body but only for a moment to pull off the thin fabric covering her body. “That’s better,” she said as she as she placed your hands back on the soft flesh of her ass as her hands began to gently squeeze your chest.

Her lips became more feverous, but Rhaenyra was careful not to burn you, always going softer on her favourite hand maiden. Rhaenyra’s hips began to grind down, signalling to you without words. One of your hands slipped from her back to her front, moving between your bodies to run a finger up her cunt, “So wet for me,” you praised with a slight smirk.

“Shut up and kiss me,” she giggled as she pulled you back in.

Your fingers trailed up and down her wet folds for only a few moments before slowly pushing into her entrance. Rhaenyra moaned into the kiss as your fingers slipped in, your thumb positioned to rub slow circles into her clit which you had worked over so many times now. Rhaenyra began to slowly buck her hips on your fingers, fucking herself slowly as your fingers curled.

Her moans were soft and mixed with gasps as you began to kiss down her jaw and neck. The soft skin was like a drug as your lips moved down to nip at her collarbones. Your spare hand moved from her ass to her chest as you began to kiss her chest before taking one of her hardened nipples into your mouth, sucking on it gently, “Yes,” Rhaenyra moaned softly as your fingers began to trace her hardened bud, “Don’t stop,”

“Whatever you want,” you whispered before lightly biting the bud with your teeth.

“You,” she gasped, “I want you,” she moaned as your fingers curled into that all too familiar spot. The way her hips began to buck was a familiar sight. your hand moved from her chest to her hips to hold them in place as you helped her moan out in ecstasy, curling your fingers still as she rode out her orgasm before collapsing into your arms.

Rhaenyra’s head rested on your shoulder for a moment as she caught her breath. Your hands moved to rub soft circles into her back, holding her close. After a few moments Rhaenyra lifted her head to leave a soft kiss onto your lips, “Your turn,” she whispered.

“It’s okay princess- “

“Let me take care of you,” she interrupted, brushing your hair out of your face, “Lay down little one. I want to hear you,” she said as she moved to let you lay on the soft sheets.

Her eyes raked over you body, the shift doing little to cover your modesty. Rhaenyra sat next to you, reaching out to trace your hardened nipples over your clothes, “So pretty,” she muttered before she moved lean over your body. She kissed your lips before trailing down your body, leaving kisses down your skin till she reached your thighs.

Rhaenyra left several kisses up the sensitive skin while you shivered from her touch. Her soft breath fanned over your wet cunt, already making your body tense. You breathed in sharply when she placed a sudden kiss to your clit, your hands gripping the fine sheets. “Relax,” she whispered with a teasing tone, “Trust me little one,” she said as she moved your thighs over her shoulders, “Let me hear your sweet sounds,” she said before licking a soft stripe up your folds.

Your hands tightened around the sheets as Rhaenyra began to lap up your juices, softly at first but with growing hunger. She moved her head till her nose brushed your clit, making your body jerk. Rhaynera hands wrapped around your legs, squeezing the soft flesh of your thighs as she began to fuck you with her tongue.

You could feel the knot growing in your stomach and you did your best to stay quiet, but Rhaenyra was not making it easy. One of her hands released your thigh only for her to begin teasing your hole with her fingers. Rhaenyra slowly eased two fingers into you, curling them slowly inside you as her mouth moved up to place open mouth kisses to your clit. Her tongue massaged your bundle of nerves while her fingers began to brush over that one particular spot.

Your soft moans filled the chambers and the fear of someone entering didn’t even faze you as your body tightened. When you felt her begin to lightly suck on your clit you could feel your peak ready to tip so when her teeth grazed the bundle of nerves you began to crash on her tongue, your knuckles turning white as you gripped the sheets.

Rhaenyra didn’t stop even as your thighs tightened around her head. You felt your body might break in half as her mouth seemed to get more determined to milk another out of you. it didn’t take long till your body was jerking as you tried to almost fight off the second orgasm, but it was futile once her fingers curled to hit your sweet spot and you came again on her face.

This time Rhaenyra came up for air as you lay in bed, half dazed as you stared at the ceiling. “You were so good for me,” Rhaenyra praised as she lay beside you, brushing the hair out of your face, “Can I hold you little one?” she asked, raising your hand to her lips and to kiss your knuckles.

You nodded, shuffling slightly so that Rhaenyra could lay behind you, her arms wrapped around your front while her head buried into the crook of your neck. “Get some sleep darling,” Rhaenyra said, kissing your shoulder, “I’ll be here in the morning,”

“Okay,” you whispered as you felt Rhaenyra shuffle and suddenly a thick blanket fell over you both, “Gnight Rhae,” you said, already half asleep,”

“Goodnight Perzītsos,”

Taglist @clairacassidy @starkleila @valeskafics

[abigailywrites]

bargain. [din djarin x reader]

part two of indebted.

ao3 / ko-fi rating: t word count: 2.8k warnings: none

Karga gives you a break from secretary work the next day, apparently realizing that yesterday’s workload was too much for a beginner. He sends you to pick up groceries instead, shoving a handful of credits into your hand and telling you to “buy whatever you know how to cook.” Then he returns to work which seems as bad as it did yesterday.

There’s something about the liberty that the Nevarro marketplace affords you that puts a spring in your step. It’s hot and crowded and people are shouting from every direction for every reason. It’s loud, and you hate the noise. But you’re effectively by yourself. No one is lording over you. You’ve got a handful of credits to spend on whatever you like. If this was your job every day, you could get used to it. Twenty years wouldn’t be so bad.

But it would still be twenty years.

Maker, you need to figure out how to convince Mando to take another puck. Just one more. If he’s as good a hunter as Karga makes him out to be, how much would it hurt? But you sincerely doubt you’ll be able to convince him by asking “why not.” There’s little else you can use to convince him, as the man at the bar made abundantly clear yesterday. Not that you would necessarily offer that. You’re going to have to pray that, when the moment comes, you’ll know what to do.

It’s little more than a half-hour later when that prayer is put to the test. At an intersection of streets, the glint of the sun off a beskar helmet catches your eye, and you see Mando march across the marketplace with a satchel slung over his shoulder. You’re chasing after him before you know what you’re doing. Your head is swimming again, this time with the idea of a year of freedom you wouldn’t otherwise have. 

You can’t run; the streets are too crowded for that, and Mando wouldn’t respond well to that, anyway. Besides, the idea of approaching him and immediately engaging in a conversation is making your step falter as you get closer and closer. 

He’s bartering with a vendor in a language you don’t understand, and you just hover in the background, trying to map out your plan, pretending to be involved in your surroundings. Every step you take closer to him is more time you have to remind your heart to keep beating. Maker, you've never been so disoriented before, and it scares you to death. 

Still, you persist. When he moves to a different stall, you move too, giving him space to get ahead first. You're still racking your brain for what the hell you say to whatever the hell a Mandalorian is. If you knew anything about him at all, this might be easier. Maybe you should just observe for now.

He goes under a tent that takes up three stall spaces, and you follow him there a few moments later. It’s an artisan’s tent; shards of stained glass in every shape you can think of hang from the posts of the tent, shining in the sunlight and casting rainbows of color onto the dusty ground below. It’s the most color you’ve seen in years, and it nearly distracts you from your task. 

There’s a mobile with shards of deep blues and purples in abstract shapes lined with silver along the edges that catches your eye. You haven’t seen anything quite so vivid in years. Almost without thinking about it, you reach for it. Your fingertips barely brush against the smooth surface— 

“Are you done following me?” a voice from behind you asks.

Mando’s sudden attention hits you like a punch in the stomach, and you drop your hand to the side. He’s no more than a couple of feet behind you, and you hadn’t even noticed he moved at all. You suppose you should’ve known better than to try following a bounty hunter without being noticed. “I—” you start, as you spin around.  “I wanted to apologize. For yesterday, I mean…”

Mando doesn’t shift an inch. “It was Karga’s fault. He should know better.”

Great start. "He wasn’t trying to be rude,” you tell him. You’re still aiming for an apologetic tone, but it comes out defensive. You need to rethink your strategy. What you need is a lie. Well, no, not a lie exactly. Just a different way to frame the truth.  “I wasn’t even supposed to meet you at all, but I pestered him about it. It was all my fault. If there’s any way I can make it up to you…?”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” he says. “Tell Karga that if he thinks sending his errand girl to—” 

“Karga didn’t send me,” you interrupt him without thinking, and in the silence that follows, you realize that may have been a mistake. He’s staring at you, helmet tilted to the side. All you can do is take the fact that he hasn’t turned to walk the other way as a prompt to elaborate. “That is, he didn't tell me to talk to you. Opposite, in fact.”

“If Karga didn’t send you,” he starts, “why are you here defending him?”

“Well, I— I’m trying to be a good employee,” you stammer. “I just want to do my job.”

“Never met someone so invested in working for Karga. It’s always something else. I’m not interested,” he points out, and that seems to be the end of the conversation for him. He brushes past you out of the tent without another word, leaving you standing dumbstruck.

By the time you turn to follow him, he’s so far ahead of you that you have to jog to catch up, and he’s certainly not slowing down at all. “Well, isn’t there anything I could do to make you interested?” you insist. You're not even going to attempt feigning pure intentions.

“Are you gonna follow me around all day?”

“If it comes to it,” you answer. “Would you hear me out?”

“No.”

You roll your eyes but keep following. "You don't even know what I'm asking!"

"Don't need to."

“It would help us both,” you promise.

“I said no.”

That's three times he's said no, now. It won't help to become even more of a nuisance, but you can't give up. “You don’t understand. I’m talking about a year of my lif—”

Mando’s arm shoots out suddenly and grips the arm on your far side, stopping you in your tracks just as a heavy-duty transport drives a little too close on the path in front of you. If he hadn’t done anything, you absolutely would’ve walked right out in front of it.

He doesn’t release your arm until the transport is well out of the way of your path. When he does, he turns to look at you. “Go back to Karga. You’re gonna get hurt out here.”

“I can’t—”

He grabs both of your shoulders and turns you around back in the direction of the cantina. “Go,” he tells you, and his hands leave your shoulders.

It’s not worth another shot, you decide. As far as Mando is concerned, the conversation ended before it even started. By the time you turn back around, he’s disappeared into the crowds.

That evening, you cook dinner for yourself and Karga with the groceries you picked up. The usually relaxing process of cutting and steaming does nothing to ease your disappointment in your colossal failure. Maker, you were so stupid just approaching Mando like that. You know nothing about him at all. If you had waited, you could’ve figured out things about him and his culture that could have helped you influence his mind. But you had to take the mudhorn by the horn. Had to do things your way as soon as you got the chance. Had to get drunk on the little bit of freedom you were given and abuse it. You want to kick yourself. 

When Karga returns to the house, he’s even more tired than he was yesterday. “I can’t give you a break tomorrow,” he tells you. “I need to keep training you to take over the records. It’s getting to be too much for me to handle by myself.”

You nod your understanding and have dinner in silence. Sleep comes to you in hazy, broken patches that night.

Once again, it’s an early morning at the cantina, and most of it is spent training. Record-keeping is an even more harrowing job than Karga prepared you for in the weeks before he brought you to Nevarro. Even making entries in the transaction ledger makes your head spin.

Karga lets you practice it a few times, but you think he gets some kind of sick amusement out of watching you struggle with all the fucking numbers. Just when you think you’re about to rain curses on the sick freak that invented math, Karga takes the holopad out of your hands.

“Alright,” he says. “Let’s take a break.”

You slam your head down on the table. “Thank you,” you mutter. “Today is a bitch.”

“It’s only ten o’clock,” Karga tells you.

“She’s a bitch,” you insist.

“You’re just being irritable,” Karga counters. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

You lift your head and pinch the bridge of your nose. “You would be too. First the whole thing with the expired bounty a couple of days ago, then the thing with Mando yesterday, now this—”

Karga holds up his hand. “Hold on, hold on,” he says. “What about Mando? What happened?”

You hesitate, unsure how much you’re willing to say. More and more, you’re realizing that you have tested the limits of what Karga said you could do. “Nothing, I just…”

When you’re silent for too long, Karga leans in. “You just what? What did you do?”

It’s at that moment that the door slides open, and the Mandalorian walks in as he did a couple of days ago.

Karga sits up straight. “Mando!” he says as the Mandalorian approaches. “Didn’t expect to see you back so soon. I assume this means you’ve made up your mind?”

He doesn’t answer, but he takes the seat across from the booth. 

Karga turns to you. “Go wait outside—”

“No,” Mando interrupts. “She stays.” 

He doesn’t elaborate on this sudden change of attitude, but Karga glances at you and seems to come to a realization. What that realization is, you have no idea, but there’s a definite new, conniving spark behind his eyes. 

“Right,” Karga agrees, his voice noticeably controlled. He rises slowly. “Give me a moment. I need a drink. Open up Mando’s profile and the available bounties on the holopad while I’m gone.”

No, wait, what? All you’ve been trained to do is take transaction notes. There’s no way in hell you’re going to be able to follow all of these new instructions. Especially when the Mandalorian is sitting across from you, staring you down. Nevertheless, you swallow your objections and nod while Karga walks away.

Deep breath. “Okay,” you mutter to yourself, getting only as far as you know how to. You come to a roadblock way sooner than you hoped.

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

After the long silence, the question catches you off-guard so much so that you wouldn’t even dream of being dishonest. “Not really,” you admit. “But I can manage until Karga comes back.”

Mando lets go of a deep sigh and reaches his hand out across the table. After a moment’s hesitation, you give him the holopad. He accesses his profile in less than a minute and hands it back to you.

“How do you know how to do that?” you ask him.

“I’m observant,” he answers.

You look down at his profile. Most of his personal information is redacted. There’s no given name. No physical description beyond “beskar helmet.” What little information is available to you is mostly transactions and statistics about his performance as a hunter. No wonder Karga agreed to five percent. There was no way in hell you were gonna be able to find anything out, to begin with. 

“Well,” you say after clearing your throat. “I guess I’m not as observant as that.”

“Apparently,” Mando says. Is that irony in his voice? “You almost got yourself killed crossing the street.” Okay… irony.

Something like dread swirls in your stomach. “Right,” you say, looking up at him. “If you could keep that between you and me, I would appreciate it. Karga doesn’t have to know about that… that whole encounter.”

“How many favors do you want from me?”

He’s playing with you, now. You might not be able to see his face, but you can sense that much. “Please?” you ask him, your voice somewhere between desperate and irritated. 

“Karga doesn’t have to know,” Mando agrees. “As long as you tell me what you meant when you said it’s a year of your life.”

Is that it? Is that the entire reason you’re here now instead of waiting outside while he and Karga talk business? You furrow your brows and shrug. “I had a deal with Karga, that’s all,” you answer him. “If I could convince you to take more than two pucks, he’d take five percent off of the debt I owe him. It would usually take a year to pay back five percent.”

“That’s a twenty-year debt. What did you do to owe Karga so much?”

“I didn’t do anything,” you answer. “I inherited my debt from my grandfather, and Karga bought it a couple of weeks ago from my former employer. I’m honor-bound to pay it back no matter who I owe it to.”

“So, you’re a slave.”

Your jaw clenches at the statement. “I’m an indentured servant,” you correct him. “There’s a difference.”

“What’s your job again?”

“To do what Karga tells me.”

“And you get paid for that?”

“Well… no.”

Mando goes quiet again and tilts his helmet to the side as if he’s trying to make a point.

You let out a huff. “That’s not the point,” you say. “The point is that I was supposed to get you to take another puck. Just one more.”

“I don’t take more than two.”

You blink once. “Hence… the challenge.”

“What was your strategy?”

You take a deep breath and let it out on a hiss. “Didn’t have one, really. I figured I’d try a bunch of different angles until something stuck. Unfortunately, you didn’t let me try any of the angles.”

He just stares at you. If he’s taken aback by your honesty, he doesn’t say so. You, however, are shocked by the sound of your own voice saying nothing but the truth. It’s not really as much a choice as it is something that he seems to draw out of you.

It’s as you open your mouth to say something (anything to fill the silence) that Karga calls your name. You rip your eyes away from Mando as he approaches the table, drink in hand. “Go back to the house and get lunch started, would you? I’ve had enough of cantina food for a week.”

The last thing you expected was for Karga to say something so contrary to Mando’s instructions. But Mando doesn’t say anything, and you can tell that Karga has some kind of purpose he’s not telling you about. So with an obedient nod, you stand and leave the cantina. Once again, the Mandalorian’s gaze follows you out.  

When Karga returns to the house that evening, he calls you to the main living room. “What did you say to Mando while I was gone?”

The question takes you aback. “Um, I don’t know,” you say. “I just answered his questions.”

Karga raises his brows. “Oh, is that all?” he asks. “What questions?”

You shake your head and shrug. “Just about who I am and why I’m working for you. It was like a job interview. Nothing happened.”

Karga lets out a sound somewhere between a sputter and a laugh. “Well, whatever arrangement you’ve got going on, keep it up.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell Karga. “There’s no arrangement. As far as I know, as soon as I left, he took his two pucks, and left.”

Karga stares at you a moment. “He didn’t take two pucks,” he says finally “He took four.”

Four? Where the hell did that come from? What did you say to convince him to take double his usual count?

“You really didn’t know, did you?” Karga questions, seeming to finally come to the realization.

“No, I didn’t...” you answer. When you can finally clear your head of white noise for a moment, you look up to see Karga looking at you thoughtfully. “What?”

“Nothing,” Karga says. “I’m just thinking you might be even better for business than I thought.”

[crguang]

SUSHSNAJAH i love your kafmom hcs can you elaborate more on them?

YES YESVYESYESYES sure. i can do that.

you can’t look me in the eyes and tell me kafka’s not a boy mom sorry… she has a son and he’s her pride and joy, okay. she thinks he’s smarter than regular babies (“he has my genes, naturally.”) and brags about it to the stellaron hunters who don’t give a shit at all except firefly

“he sat up on his own. at this rate, we’ll have to get him checked out. hold on, i took a video.”

“oh my godddd,” silver wolf groans, “you really became one of those insufferable moms who only talk about their kid. disgusting.”

dad energy, like shes a dad. she’s that meme of chris hemsworth holding his kid by the leg at the beach. she checks the list of ingredients of whatever baby food you give her so she can feed him and goes, “i’m not giving him that.” (“kafka, it’s approved.” “by who?”) she always carries him on her shoulders. when he fusses and she has to hand him over to you for feeding, she says, “he wants you because you have the milk, but he told me i’m his favourite.” (he cant talk?)

kafka’s one of those dads who will spend half an hour having conversations with a baby who only babbles and giggles. if you come into the room and ask her what’s going on, she’ll say it’s “between him and her” and wink at your son like he understands what she’s saying

the baby rarely cries when she’s holding him. it’s sickening. she mentions it all the time. she’s a baby whisperer and you’d complain if that didn’t mean you get to take naps without worrying about shrill cries every half hour

funnily enough, kafka understands the fragility of the human body and even more so of a human baby. she does things like throwing him in the air and catching him to make him laugh, spinning him around, etc (it almost give you a heart attack every time to which she only replies, “relax, i got him.”) but she’s aware of his and her limitations so really, he couldn’t be safer with her

she has “days out” with him when she’ll take him somewhere for a morning or afternoon so you can rest and also to ease your separation anxiety if you have any. you need to be able to be without your baby and not die of worry but it’s hard😞

she’s not one of those crazy possessive boy moms who hate when their sons grow up and end up with “other women”, she just teaches him how to pull (“listen, this is how i got your mom wrapped around my finger…”)

she doesn’t smoke as often. she doesn’t really notice it even though it was a habit, cigarette smoke is dangerous for babies so she stopped. you mention it to her once and she shrugged like it was no big deal but she really loves that baby, dude…

she can be very firm. she’s a fun dad but she won’t tolerate disrespect towards you or him putting his life in danger because of stupid decisions he made. baby or teen, she can put her foot down and it’s very rare for her son not to listen to her when she does (she’s always smiling, imagine when her smile drops… shivers)

she’s weirdly understanding. i say it’s weird because she’s never done this before, but that’s precisely the reason why she kinda just follows your lead. she’s also very perceptive so you don’t often have to verbalize what you need, she’ll have it done. no more diapers? she already noticed and got some yesterday. your period is coming up? you’ve been irritable the past few days so she’s been taking more tasks off your plate. she’s just very astute in general and it helps a lot when it comes to having a kid

that baby can dress i’ll tell you that. she shops with him in the cart and asks him for his opinion on which item fits her best (he only cares about the toy in his hand)

she’s still a bad bitch and she has to remind you of that once in a while…

one of those dads who says no to a pet when their toddler becomes articulate enough to beg for one and ends up being the one to take care of it

she’s an early riser so when your son’s still an infant and wakes up during the night she’s often the first awake. depending if he’s hungry or not, she also takes care of it

if we pretend she’s not a deadbeat mom i swear she’d be a great parent like… she’d never in her life expect it to happen and the baby would definitely be an accident but hey! she steps up…!

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Back in Time P.1 ⏳| Agent K/MIB Imagine

An AU of MiB—takes place during MIB3

Part 2 | my masterlists

Characters & Pairings: Agent K x MiB agent!reader (romantic)

Content warnings: fluff, profanity, angst, mentions of death, violence, age gape (read the note below), cannon divergence, suggestive themes, shitty realities women & queer had to go through in the 60s, friends/strangers-to-lovers | female!reader (she/her) | wc 9.3k

Premise: The universe was full of secrets. Y/I learned that in 1997 when she signed her name on the dotted line, swearing her life to MiB with the promise to protect all life: humans and visitors alike. But her world flips upside down in 2012, when the secrets her longtime partner K come knocking at their door. Leading Agent Y/I to go on a wild goose chase to 1969 and employ a young K to stop a madman from killing him...but he doesn't know that just yet.

Note: disclaimer I do not own MiB or the characters mentioned, This is fanfic for fun and while most of the scenes are from the MiB movies I did change most of the dialogue for Y/I. ALSO here is the whole age-gap thing: K was born in 1940, reader born in 1964--24 yr age gap (I know I said I’d never do large age gaps more than 10+ years but this is one exception.) In 1997 K is 57, reader is 33. In 2002 K is 62, reader is 38. In 2012 K is 72, reader is 48. In 1969 K is 29, reader is 48, young reader is 5. Your Initial = Y/I, Y/h/c = your hair color, y/e/c = your eye color. In the movie Boris killed on July 15th, 1969, changed this to July 11th 1969.

Y/I = Your First Initial. Y/h/c = Your Hair Color

————————

2012

The last thing Y/I expected when she woke up that morning and headed into HQ was she’d be the only one to remember her grumpy, always serious, and sometimes melodramatic partner, Agent K. The man who showed her there was more than what meets the eyes in the stars of the night sky. A shooting star? More like the source of a new arrival. As humans were not the only ones to call Earth their home.

Aliens walked among them.

Y/I remembered it like it was yesterday. One minute she’s chasing a culprit in New York as Detective Y/n L/n of the NYPD, the next she’s being fitted in a black suit, identity wiped across all government systems, donning only her initial, Y/I. From there her life turned a complete 180.

Over the course of their 15-year partnership there was never a dull moment. Well 10 years actually when you count the fact the first five years of Y/I career was without K. They’d safely captured the galaxy and disposed of the bug in 1997, her first job after K recruited her. Then he goes saying he wants to retire and orders Y/I to nueralize him. The next five years Y/I went through partners like clockwork. Unable to connect to one like K and neuralzing them left and right.

It just wasn’t the right fit. Which confused the woman greatly because they had literally been partners for a week. Surely anyone else could fit the role. But for some reason Y/I butted heads with everyone Zed set her up with.

Then in 2002 all leads at finding the Light of Zartha points back to K, causing Y/I to recruit him back to MIB and remind him of the life he once had. Of course the task was better said than done. K was as stubborn and cynical even without his MIB persona, believing to have been in a coma for 35 years.

Y/I wanted to strangle him the second he got his memory back. Furious to discover the bastard had neuralized himself so he’d forget where he put the Light of Zartha. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Of course K had a plan. He always did. Which was annoying for the young agent since he hardly ran his ideas past her before going through with them. Honestly Y/I believed K was betting on luck half the time.

But who was she to complain when it always worked in their favor.

The most downright awkward moment between the two happened during their high speed chase trying to get Serleena off their trail. K, forgetting he’d been away from MIB for five years and that the cars were newly modeled, pressed the red button causing them to go into hypersonic mode. And Laura, who Y/I had been casually seeing over the course of the investigation and had grown rather affectionate of the beautiful woman, got to witness it all from the backseat.

“Okay here we go automatic pilot,” K fiddled with the controller resembling one that belonged to a playstation before pressing a button, prompting a decoy to pop out in front of K. Unfortunately, a decoy was all it was. Not taking control of the ship at all causing K to lean over with annoyance plastered on his face. “It is not automatic pilot.”

“He doesn’t operate at hyperspeed,” Y/n’s gave an ‘I told you so,’ face.

“I could really use a steering wheel!”

“Tough luck we don’t have a steering wheel! This is what we got,” her hand gestured to control, reaching over to press the button removing the decoy. K threw his hands up in defeat. Y/I huffed, “didn’t your mother ever get you a GameBoy?”

“What is a GameBoy?!”

Sweet Jesus she couldn’t believe it. What’s a GameBoy? Did this man live under a rock? She was going to have to change that. Bringing her finger up in a stern point, Y/I ordered the man, “You know what, move.” K’s jaw dropped in a ‘O’. “Move!”

And before either had the time to process, Y/I lifted herself off the seat, swung her leg over and straddled K. His eyes practically bulged out of his head, hands going to her hips. The action made her jolt forward, yelping as her thighs pressed against his and feeling something brush against her groin. They both froze, eyes locking as Y/I heard K gulp.

Oh. Fire ignited in the agent. Migrating all the way to her face she prayed didn’t show. K was packing.

Instantly she leaned against the door, pushing the man to get the hint and he quickly ushered himself over the middle console. Face red like a tomato. When they both got situated the car was completely silent. K adjusting his tie while Y/I took hold of the joystick and cleared her throat.

“Alright then.”

Luckily, for her sanity, everything worked out. Serleena indisposed, New York saved once again from a homicidal maniac, and Y/I got her partner back. Only downside was having to say goodbye to Laura, who’d been revealed to be the long lost princess and, quite literally, the Light of Zartha. K was kind enough to give Y/I and Laura a moment to say goodbye. And when a lone tear fell from Y/I’s eyes watching the spaceship ascend to the skies, K was there with a tissue and comforting hand.

They never talked about that moment in the car. And frankly Y/I wanted to erase the memory of her mounting K while at Hyperspeed from her mind. Even half tempted to neuralize herself. But as much as it mortified her, Y/I felt a bit giddy. A bit of her ego boosted at making K speechless….and a bit more.

Her mind quickly shot that down. Remembering this man was her partner--who she went to extreme lengths for to get back--her superior once K got settled back at MIB, and the tiny fact he was a whole generation older than her. Literally. When she did the math it was almost 25 years between them.

Now Y/I had nothing against older men. She loved a silver fox as much as any other, and honestly preferred them to guys younger than her. At the bars she drew them in like wildfire. Never having to pay for her drinks. Then when she was 25 still a detective Y/I had a two year relationship with a man 12 years her senior.

But this was K. They’d really only known each other for maybe a week during that whole bug debacle before the shit with Serleena. It would be highly unprofessional.

Though she can’t lie. The man looked good in his 60s.

Ten years later the two were MIB’s best duo when it came to handling extraterrestrial business and keeping the world safe from unwanted visitors. Y/I with her charm and K with his quick wit, they were unstoppable.

“Don’t worry, K, you can sit this one out,” she’d tease, adjusting the cuffs of her suit with a confident smile. “I got this.”

He’d match her grin, “sure you do, slick.” Then he’d start walking and get right to work leaving her behind.

“Are you ever going to let me drive?”

“Maybe next year.”

“You said that last year, K.”

“I did?” his feigned confusion with a shrug, “Hmm don’t recall.” Like always, he was met with her groan, hearing her head fall back against the seat in defeat.

“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent driver, K.”

He chuckled under his breath, casting a brief glance, “Don’t doubt it, sweetheart, now call Zed and let him know we’re on the way back.”

What could go wrong? Apparently everything.

They’d been on a job the previous night. Investigating Wu’s following suspicious activity and K wasn’t acting like his usual self. On edge, behaving in ways Y/I kept wondering what had crawled up his ass.Then all hell broke loose causing them to lose each other at one point. When Y/I finally made it to the roof, out of breath and in desperate need of a drink, she discovered K wasn’t alone. Greeted with an alien named Boris the Animal.

And he was not the happy camper. In fact, he broke out of prison just to hunt K down.

Later on K vaguely explained the history between him and Boris. “I should’ve killed him,” were his exact words, surprising the agent. She’d always known K to be the man to see all life as precious. He’d take the risk in apprehending a suspect rather than putting them down. Boris, however, did not fall under that.

The night ended with K pulling a play out of left field by suspending Y/I for four weeks when she refused to let go of not pursuing Boris. Who’s arrival shook K to his core. Quite literally. And when he called her that night to say, “you know what the most destructive force in the universe is?”

“Sugar,” Y/I sarcastically replied, not really in the mood.

“Regret.”

She went silent for a moment, “You don’t have to wait. Just talk.”

“I promised you the secrets of the universe nothing more,” K reminded her, making the woman roll her eyes in frustration.

“So what, K? There’s secrets out there the universe doesn’t know about? How can we be partners if you can’t even trust me?” When he didn’t answer, Y/I had enough and hung up. Unaware the man on the other end was holding himself together. So desperately wishing he could tell her the truth. The whole truth.

Falling asleep not long later, Y/n woke the next morning like any other day. Completed her morning routine, whipped up some breakfast and nursed a cup of chocolate milk. Something she hadn’t had since grade school but got the sudden crave for. Slicked back her mix match hair into a tidy bun, gave one last look in the mirror to make sure her suit was nice and tidy before heading out the door.

The entire journey to headquarters felt weird. Unexplainable really. A dreaded feeling in Y/I’s chest on the verge of making her physically sick. But what was it?

When she arrived at HQ Y/I was greeted in the elevator by a man she didn’t recognize, but somehow knew her. Saying he was Agent AA and they’d been partners for a while sending Y/I into a frenzy, “I have no idea who you are, and we are certainly not partners. Where’s K?”

“Who’s K?”

“Who’s K?” she repeated, making him flinch by her sudden shout. “You know who I’m talking about. K! Agent K--the best MIB has ever seen. He’s my partner--My K!” Y/I pushed based AA to frantically search for K. Anxiety rose each time she asked a passing agent where he was and they said they had no clue who she was talking about. “K!” she kept calling for him, saying how it wasn’t funny to be playing a prank on her after their argument last night. But with each second Y/I was becoming scared. Circling in the middle of HQ until she finally broke with a pained scream that echoed through the building, “Kaaayy!!!”

It was then O dragged Y/I to her office, stating she was in charge of MIB….and that Agent K had been dead since 1969.

“Okay, you’ve got it all wrong,” Y/I chuckled to avoid having a mental breakdown right there. She was beginning to hyperventilate, struggling to process the buffoonery. There’s no way in hell K was dead. And that he had been for 40+ years. “K is not---what-whatever joke this is needs to stop--.”

“This isn’t a joke, Agent Y/I--.”

“K can’t be dead! That is impossible--I-I just did a job with him last night. We were on the phone before I went to bed. This is insane!! I am not crazy!!” Y/I leaned back in her chair, apologizing for the outburst when she saw how O was staring at her. “I’m sorry, O. That was out of line. But, O please,” she stood up, pleading with her eyes. “You have to understand that this--.” she gestured to the vicinity, “was not my reality yesterday. Something happened to K in the last twelve hours and we need to get to the bottom of it.”

There were a lot of things Y/I accepted in life. Her father left when she was five. Her family kicked her out at 18 when they caught her with a girl. Ex boyfriend cheating on her because her detective job had her working long night shifts. Blockbuster closing down. The Mets losing the World Series year after year. Pepsi replacing Coca-Cola in the MIB vending machines.

But a world without K? Y/I refused to accept it.

So that’s how she found herself at the top of a skyscraper about to make a time jump into 1969. Jeffrey, the store clerk she tracked down who gave Boris the means to travel back in time, followed behind her.

“Okay, you know the rules of time jumps, right?”

Y/I wobbled on her heels, doing her best to not look down. The wind blew in her face, “give me the short version.”

“Okay. You want to save your partner, word of advice: stay away from him.”

“Yeah got it,” Y/I nodded, making a motion with her hand. “Stay away from K just kill Boris.”

“Now,” Jeffrey handed her a pair of goggles. “Take these because it gets pretty windy on the way down.” Y/I spluttered a sound.

“The way down?!”

Jeffrey either doesn’t register the dumbfounded expression plastered on her or chooses to ignore it. “With your eyes tearing up it’s hard to read the time dial plus,” he offers a smile, “it helps you look like a real time traveler. Which is cool.” Her face never changed.

“There’s no way in hell I am jumping off of this building!”

“Time. Jump,” his face reads, ‘what did you think it meant?’ Y/I just gulps, peering out into the distance. Contemplating her life choices. Meanwhile Jeffrey pulls out the time dial, “Okay now I gotta set this thing to the 11th. Uhhh,” his fingers work over the device. Setting it to July 11th, 1969. “That seems right….ish.”

Y/I lifted her head to stare at him, “I’m gonna need that to be on the money, Jeffrey. Time is at stake here. Literally.”

“Now, all you gotta do…is jump,” passing the dial, he gives her a light push on the back, making her stumble and go, “hey-hey, stop. I don’t need to fall to my death before you finish telling me what I’m supposed to be doing.” Slowly itching herself to the edge, Jeffrey explained the final steps.

“Now as soon as you’re moving fast enough that circle is going to fill up with some sort of green time travel liquid or some such and it’s going to glow really bright--” Y/I cursed when she nearly slipped, catching her hand on the smooth surface. ‘God, I shouldn't have chosen today to wear my heels.’

“As soon as that happens you need to break that blue laser line with your thumb to complete the circuit,” Jeffrey scans their view. “At this height that should be uhhh…let’s see massive Earth and 30 something feet per minute uh--.”

The fear of jumping off a building combined with the stress of failing to save K, Y/I felt the pressure break. “It’s 32 feet per second per second.”

“That sounds right--ish,” Y/I mentally groaned at his lack of confidence. “So that would be, I guess uh, about two feet off the ground.”

“Then I break the laser line?”

“No, don't break it!”

“I mean when I’m fast enough,” Y/I reiterates and receives a thumbs up.

“Sounds good.” Well that didn't help her at all.

“So do I break the laser line or do I not break the laser line?”

“Do not lose that time device,” Jeffrey warns, making the woman sigh and accept she’s going to have to wing it and pray she lives to tell. “Or you will be stuck in 1969.” He didn’t have to say anything else for Y/I to understand. She was going to be a fish out of water.

Was it too late to change her clothes and dye her hair?

“How will I know if it works?” She asked, stomach dropping at the sight of spaceships entering the atmosphere. The Boglodite invasion had begun.

“You’ll either know…or you won’t.”

“Fucking A,” Y/I pulled the goggles over her head. They were tight against her skin, but she was able to at least breathe.

Before he left, Jeffrey had one last thing to say. And it really put into perspective how important K was to Y/I. “You must really love this guy to do this.”

“Yeah,” she muttered under her breath, tightness in her chest while heat flooded her veins. “I guess I do.” She brushed the intense feeling as platonic love for K. Their partnership had lasted 10 years. He was more than just a colleague, he was her best friend. Turning back to Jeffrey before he could leave, she yelled, “Wait! How come I remember K but nobody else does?”

“Woah!” Jeffrey exclaimed, looking as if she just unlocked the key to immortality. “Woah! That means you were there.”

“I was where?” She didn’t understand. Yeah she was alive in 1969, five years old in fact. But what the hell does he mean by she was there?

“If you survive you gotta come back and tell me everything, okay!”

“What are you talking about? Where was I?!” she was interrupted by a ship attacking a nearby building. Jeffrey ushering her off.

“You gotta go! Go! Go! Go!,” he fled to safety, leaving Y/I alone on the rooftop. More ships attacked, sending an alarm across the city for residents to seek shelter. Below Y/I made out their screams.

Time dial in hand, Y/I said a mental prayer, “I’m coming for ya, K,” and leaped to her destiny.

1969

Once Y/I settled her heart rate and mentally cheered in victory she didn’t die, her feet carried her off the rooftop and down the elevator. Had her mind not been preoccupied, she would’ve found humor in the man who looked rather scared out of his wits when she entered the elevator. Clutching the paper close to his chest while giving her an odd once over.

“What’s today?” Y/I picked up on his adversary, not meeting her eye at all.

“Tuesday,” he said shortly.

“The date,” she corrected with a sigh.

“The 11th.”

“Of?”

“July?”

“My man, what’s the year?”

“Nine-nineteen sixty-nine.”

“Thank you,” she threw a hand up, startling him more. “God, and I thought people sucked at answering simple questions where I’m from.” She left the elevator in a haste once it hit the lobby floor, rushing out the doors to a 60s New York.

After stealing a rich man’s car, neuralizing two cops and knicking a bottle of coca-cola from a vendor to quench her time travel thirst, Y/I finally made it to Coney Island. Approaching any and everyone to see if they’d seen Boris.

“He’s about six foot, gnarly beard and looks like he could use some screen,” the young couple hippy kept eyeing her up and down, expressions mixed with weariness and awe. It’s not everyday a woman in a dressy suit approaches to ask you questions. Y/I huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I take that as a no?”

It was like this all morning and Y/I was starting to lose hope. But she had to stay. It said in the records Boris murders an alien on July 11th at Coney Island. Maybe if she could find him she’d save another life.

A scream filled her ears, Y/I running in the direction of the ferris wheel. Breaking through a curtain with her gun raised where she found a body laying on the ground. “Shit,” she muttered, head raising a second later to thumping.

There, leaping across the panels of the ferris wheel, was Boris. Y/I trained her blaster up, eyes following Boris’ until she could get a clear shot. She predicted he’d jump to the large billboard, so she focused her aim to await him.

But fate had other plans.

As soon as she lined up the shot Y/I felt cold pressure against her temple. Blood rushed as she mentally cursed herself. Then a familiar southern drawl filled her ears.

“We’ll take it from here.”

“K?” she gasped, eyes wide as saucers. Smiling as she turned to see him, young and alive, “K!”. ‘Damn K was a stud.’ However the happy reunion was cut short when the agent remembered this was a young K. His face visibly surprised at the mention of his name. Y/I once again cursed at herself.

He didn’t know who the fuck she was.

His defensive demeanor showed that. “I’m afraid I’m going to need you to lower your weapon and come with me, ma’am.” Had this been her K she would’ve teased the fact that even so young authority seeped off him. Carrying himself in a way Y/I was sure he had gals falling to his feet left and right.

But she couldn’t tease him. This wasn’t her K. And this K looked like he was about five seconds from losing his patience.

“Sorry, pretty boy,” she found her voice, his face shifting at the nickname. “Can’t let that happen.” Before K could blink, Y/I shot her arm up to push his blaster away, kneeing his stomach causing K to grunt and bend over, before kicking his legs. She made a mental note to apologize to future K once she returns home.

If she manages to pull this off.

Once K was down, Y/I took her chance to run. Unfortunately she didn’t get far. Heading in the direction Boris fled, Y/I got caught in a maze of tents, unable to find her way out. She stomped her foot, “Dammit.” It was there K found her, tackling the agent from behind, “Ooof--!” They rolled on the harsh ground, scuffling their suits and shoes before coming to a stop. K kicked Y/I’s blaster away, annoying her greatly, “Rude.”

They engaged in a small brawl. Which was pretty much Y/n doing all she could to escape and K attempting to get the upper hand but falling short. It was a new thing for K. Having an opponent on his level. He’d never had his work cut out for him until now. This woman was something else. She intrigued him.

After two whole minutes of fighting, they were becoming tired and frustrated. K took a blow to his rib, Y/I’s hair now loose from the hair tie snapping. It came to a climatic end when they fell back onto a curtain and tumbled onto a table full of orange crates. Moaning as they made impact with the ground. Y/I pushed herself up only to yelp in pain and fall back as electricity filled her veins.

The bastard tased her.

Breathing heavily, K wiped the sweat from his forehead. Leaning back on his knees as he observed the unconscious woman in front of him. Now that he got a better look, K assessed her to be in her mid to late 30s. Striking features with signs of aging, some wrinkles by her eyes and smile lines, but breathtakingly beautiful. Hair styled in an unusual fashion. Two toned in a way K couldn’t tell if it was natural on the sides framing her face or if they were purposely dyed a stunning white/gray. The top of her head was layered in y/h/c. Her makeup relatively simple with the exception of bold red painting her lips.

The most interesting detail of the gorgeous woman was she adored a black suit just like him. She stuck out like a sore thumb when all the women wore dresses and skirts. Yes, some wore pants, but a woman in a sleek black suit and tie? Unheard of. Not to mention her suit was made in a different fashion than his own. More tight on her figure, thinner tie, not as boxy on the shoulders.

K’s suspicion rose when he found fancy gadgets in the pockets of her blazer. He’d made sure to disarm her in the event she woke before they arrived at HQ. Besides her gun, he discovered a pen-like tool, and a circular device reading the current date. ‘What the hell?’ he thought to himself, examining the tools closely before pocketing them. Brows raised to his hairline when he found her badge, the MIB logo in bold printed above her identity.

Agent Y/I.

“Huh,” K hummed in wonder, “Well I’ll be damned.” He glanced down at the fallen agent, lingering on her features, “Now that’s something you don’t see everyday.” Badge in hand, K gently lifting the woman in his arms to take to his car. But not before neuralizing the crowd that had gathered around them.

Whoever she was, K was going to find out.

Y/I awoke with a groan. Feeling tension in her neck and back and throat dry as a desert. Bright lights filled her vision, causing her to blink rapidly until the blurriness became clear. Making her brows furrow at the sight of a very different MIB headquarters she was used to. For starters this one had color. Burnt orange furniture and bulky furniture to fit the times. It was buzzing with MIB agents and travelers from other worlds. Y/I heard one alien on the phone with his dad begging to bail him out.

Good luck with that buddy.

Still feeling the numbness from the voltage, Y/I massaged her jaw with her hand, groaning lightly as she turned her head to scan the rest of HQ. A sudden gasp leaving her as she found K staring at her, making her jolt in her seat.

“Christ, K,” a groan left her throat, eyes narrowed at the man--who again observed her with skepticism. “Would it kill a girl to ask you to turn the electricity down on that thing? I can barely feel my tongue.” He cut right to the chase.

“How do you know my name?”

‘Fuck,’ Y/I gritted her teeth. Pissed at herself for making a simple mistake. Now she had to improvise. Something K always clowned her for. “What? Cause I called you ‘K’?” She could tell he wanted to smirk at her nervous chuckle. “No, I call everybody K. It’s my thing really--What up, K?” the person passing the two gave a look, and the agent continued the ruse much to K’s displeasure. “Kaaaaayyyyy, pasa. Yeah, you know how it is.”

God this was embarrassing. But she was too deep now.

K turned in his chair around to grab something off the desk, “Now that I know what you look like when you’re lying.” Placing the items in front of Y/I, she mentally cursed. It was her neuralizer, gun, badge and time travel device. “Won’t you show me what you look like when you’re telling the truth?”

Oh boy. She hadn’t thought of him confiscating the stuff she had. Super important stuff. How was she going to get out of this? K was the smartest man alive. He’ll know she’s lying no matter how much she tries to deceive him. Time was running out and she needed to get away fast.

Putting on a convincing smile, Y/I leans her elbow on the corner of K’s desk. “I won those at Coney Island on the ring toss,” the lie was met with a gesture of her hand, like she actually was tossing a ring.

“I won a stuffed bear once, but never one of these,” he shakes his head, giving that damn smile where he knows she’s lying. Of course he fucking knew. “Must be good, slick.” God there was the nickname. The one that in the beginning Y/I hated but learned to love as it was only reserved for her. Hearing the younger K say it brought comfort to the agent, reminding her why she was in 1969 in the first place.

“All right, sir,” she pulled herself together, becoming serious which surprised him a bit. “I was minding my own business. I was out there waiting for my girl, who, by the way, is probably worried sick looking for me right now. So I-I just need my things and I need to get back to her.”

“What’s ya gal’s name?”

“Huh?”

“Your gal,” K repeated with a smirk, “what’s her name?” The question threw her off, but then Y/I she did, in fact, say she was waiting for a girl and not a guy. Forgetting she was in 1969 where lgbtq+ unfortunately dealt with prominent homophobia and persecution. ‘Fuck’ she thought again, hoping young K was just as accepting as his older self. Who, when Y/I told him she was bisexual his reply was, “I know, slick.”

By some God awful reason, Y/I’s brain melted at having to come up with a fake girlfriend name, “Schtaron” saying it aloud even made her cringe.

K even looked surprised, eyebrows raising as though he misheard her. “Schtaron?” Well she couldn’t take it back now. So Y/I did the only thing she could do: nod, accepting her fate. K’s mouth opened slightly, processing the information. “I bet Schtaron likes that suit of yours. Hm?”

Y/I peered down at her outfit where K was looking. Crisp black suit matching his only a tad different in style. She raised a brow in defiance, “What, it’s a crime to wear a black suit?”

K shrugged, finger brushing his bottom lip, “Not a crime, but it makes you stick out compared to the other pretty ladies wearing pencil dresses and skirts.”

“Yeah well,” Y/I scoffed with a roll of the eyes. “You men haven’t realized yet that women can rock a three-piece suit and tie better than y’all.” As though confirming her words, Y/I heats up when K gives another glance over her suit. From the tie around her neck to the red bottom heels on her feet.

Obviously he didn’t recognize the shoes since Louboutins didn’t release until the 90s, but K was still impressed nonetheless she’d be brave to wear such footwear in that line of work.

He leaned back in his chair, turning away when he was caught staring, red creeping up his neck and hand raising to adjust his tie. Y/I smirked, pleased with his reaction, while battling the warmth feeling in her chest. Part of her wanted to poke fun at him like she usually did, but there was a job to do.

“All right, listen, pretty boy,” she gets his attention back, visibly reacting to the nickname, “I haven’t done anything wrong except be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And I need to get out of here,” she slaps a hand down on the stack of files in front of her, “I cannot be here with you.” They’re suddenly interrupted by the arrival of a beautiful blonde.

“Terribly sorry,” she apologizes to Y/I before turning to K. “X is frightfully upset about the whole Coney Island incident.” K moves to grab his cup of coffee, meanwhile Y/I could not contain herself and was openly checking the blonde out. Which K caught and had to do a double take.

“Alright thanks for the heads up,” he takes a sip, wincing at the bitter taste, “Oh, man, this coffee tastes like dirt.” Y/I snapped her head to him in shock before turning back to the woman, ‘no fucking way,’ her suspicions were confirmed seconds later.

“What do you expect? It was--.”

“Just ground this morning,” Y/I finishes the saying, eyes wide and grin threatening to expand. “O?” ‘Damn O has always been fine.’

Both faced her, expressions of bewilderment. Especially O who had yet to know who Y/I was. It was further proof to younger K Y/I was hiding something big.

Realizing her mistake Y/I attempted to do damage control. “No, I call ladies ‘O’,” her hand waves. Feeling small under K’s hard stare. “To me, O is feminine, K is masculine.” What the actual hell was coming out of her mouth? She didn’t know and couldn’t stop, “You know, I see a couple, I’m like, “O-K.” Before anyone had the chance to react to the utter bullshit she spewed, X was rounding the corner. K dropping a large booklet on top of Y/I’s stuff.

“What a mess,” X exclaimed, standing beside O. “Any casualties?”

“Yes, Roman the Fabulist.”

O appeared devastated by this news. Almost like she could cry whereas X just rephrased the question to specify, “Any human casualties.” Y/I narrowed her brows slightly, offended by the audacity of X which didn’t go unnoticed by K. He matched her expression. To him, all life was precious. Humans and aliens alike.

“No, sir,” Y/I picked up on his strained tone. It was then X turned his attention to the woman seated in front of him with a piercing glare, “Who the hell is this?” He was put off not just by her scowl, but the fact she wore a suit and had mixed-match hair.

“Look, I was…” K interrupted before she could make a fool of herself.

“Stray human caught in the net.”

“Code 43 her and throw her back,” X ordered. O, sensing there was more to the story, diverted X away from the desk, “Sir, you’re gonna be late for a meeting with the Viagrans. They have a revolutionary new pill.” Y/I tilted her head at O’s words, ‘What the hell? Viagrans? New Pill? Oh my….’ She wanted to laugh at the irony, but K was back in front of her, serious as ever.

“Okay, slick,” he leaned on his elbows, waiting for the woman to come clean. Y/I kept her guard up, shaking her head furiously and sticking with the stupid story, “I was waiting for my girl.”

“Schtaron.”

“Yes,” Y/I wanted to crawl under the desk and hide, “she’s….Greek. It’s a family name--very unique.”

A moment of silence passes and K finally gives up. Accepting he was going to have to use unorthodox methods to get answers. “Okay. Just one last thing…..an eye exam.”

Oh no.

Any attempt Y/I made to escape was to no avail. They caught and strapped her to a stretcher like contraption, after she put down three men and managed to disarm K again, making his jaw drop. They wheeled her to a room, her eyes landing on a large machine resembling a device she was all too familiar with. “That’s not an eye exam, K,” she shouted appalled, “That’s a big ass neuralizer!”

“You sure have a lot of information for a gal who doesn’t know anything,” he approached the control machine.

“I see what you’re saying. Woah--!” They spun upside down. “You know what, K, we need to hold up a second. K!” Her y/h/c and white hair fell over her face, Y/I blowing air to get it out of the way. Necklaces smacking her cheek.

A man in a lab coat and white suit approached her. Leaning down with an object in his hand. “Let’s just get this bite guard in here.” Y/I clacked her teeth in an attempt to bite him.

“Hey. Back up,” she did it again, causing him to draw back. “Back the fuck up. I’m not afraid to bite you.” The stretcher jolted up, making it to where she was level with the machine. “K, listen,” she pleaded with a chuckle, “I think we got off on the wrong foot, all right? So let’s stop this show and talk for a second. Don’t put me in this thing, K!”

K thought about it for a moment before replying, “Too late, lass,” and pressed a button. Y/I groaned, stretcher moving to enter the vessel.

“K, no, you have to listen to me. I can help you with this case!” her pleas went ignored, K focusing on the dial. “K!” She makes a face, “I’m doing the truth face--you’re missing it!”

“Ah, I’ll just use my imagination.”

Buzzing filled the room. The neuralizer was closed and locked, beginning to spin in a circle as it lit up. Y/I started feeling nauseous, struggling against the holds. “K, I’m after the same killer you’re looking for. He’s a Boglodite named Boris.”

“Ship has sailed, amiga.”

The dizziness was becoming intense, Y/I blinked her eyes, “K, if we don’t get him now we’ll have to deal with two of them. Two!” K adjusts his headset.

“You had my undivided attention.”

“One will have one arm, and one will have two,” she informs, neuralizer speeding up. Now her heart was about to burst from her chest, desperation consuming her. “K! Listen to me, please!” the stretcher set in place as it locked in. “If you erase me you’ll be erasing the whole world!”

“Fifteen seconds to neuralyzation. Fourteen.”

“Fuck-fuck-fuck,” Y/I mumbled, the fear now setting in. The last time she felt terrified--besides that morning--was after getting poisoned by an alien stinger while on a job in 2003. Never had she seen K so scared. Cursing at everyone and breaking every traffic law to get back to HQ. So frighteningly angry he nearly threw hands with Zed while O had to step in to calm him down.

“Thirteen. Twelve. Eleven.” her thoughts became fuzzy. Neurons pulling apart and pushing together. The area of the brain dedicated to memory being targeted causing her mind to spin. “Ten. Nine. Eight.” The least she could do before her brain was scrambled was warn K one last time. “When you see Boris tomorrow, K, kill him. Do not arrest him, you have to kill him!”

“Six. Five. Four.”

Y/I’s eyes closed, steadying her breathing to calm herself and not allow the fear to take over. Memories started to play like a film. From her childhood, to adolescence. High school and police academy. Her time as a detective to the moment she met K. Discovering the world beyond Earth. Every mission, every job. Every precious moment she took for granted.

Outside, K kept replaying her words. Warnings. Whoever she was, she knew too much. Between the technology, the suit, knowing his name as well as O’s, this woman had a past. A past with the same man he needed to find.

For God’s sake she had an MIB badge. She was one of them.

��Fucking hell.’ “Three. Two. On--.” K stood abruptly and smacked his hand down on the button to shut it down before it could reach one.

Y/I let out a breath of relief, feeling the contraption slow down until it came to a stop. Lights shutting off. “Is this thing off, K? Hey, I don’t think it’s off all the way--can you check real quick?” Cranking her neck as best she could, Y/I desperately needed an Advil. “It’s still whirring and buzzing. I don’t know if I don’t know nothing.” Now she was being dramatic. But who could really blame her after nearly getting her memory erased.

The stretcher exited the machine, pulling Y/I upright causing her hair to become a wild mess. K approached, headset off, and watched her carefully. “I knew Roman. His wife cooked me dinner once and while it was not pleasant, he was my friend.” The men unlatched the metal straps holding Y/I in place, K stepping forward to extend a hand so she’d safely step off while saying, “Last chance, who are you and what do you know?” She took his hand, both flinching at the tiny shock that occurred and Y/I stumbled back once on her feet so they had a bit of distance, but still close. Inhaling, Y/I spilled all K needed to know in one breath.

“I’m an agent at Men in Black, but I’m from the future--we’re partners, ok? Twenty-five years from now you’re going to recruit me in New York, and fourteen years after that, the guy you didn’t let me kill today at Coney Island, he escapes from prison, and jumps back into the past and unleashes a full scale invasion of Earth,” Y/I checks her watch briefly, “we’ve got approximately four days and ten hours to catch him and kill him. So really, we need to go right now because he can be anywhere!” She let out a small groan, letting the air catch up. Nerves arose at K’s blank stare. Y/I unable to tell what he was thinking and that brought great annoyance.

They stayed like that for a moment. Staring at each other in silence. Y/I allowed her shoulders to drop, sighing in the process.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, K turned on his heel toward the door, “Alright.” Puzzled, Y/I blinked rapidly in question, but followed after the man.

“So that’s the story you believe.”

“That one was the truth,” K pointed out. “Wasn’t the whole truth, but I guess it’ll do for now.” Y/I looked at him offended.

“What the hell do you mean? Of course it’s the whole truth!” Liar. “I told you everything.” ‘No I didn’t, but what you don’t know won’t hurt ya.’ They entered the elevator, “The problem with a lie, K, is once you start lying you put yourself….” she trails off when he turns to her with a look of, ‘Don’t even try,’ Sighing again, Y/I licked her lips while placing her hands in her pockets, staring ahead rather than at K.

“Agent K,” a voice called from below as the elevator rose. They turned to find X and O. “What’s she still doing here?”

“Oh I might have cooked her for too long. Thought I’d better walk her out.” Catching on, Y/I said the first thing that came to her mind.

“I put my pants on.” K rolled his eyes, lifting his hand as if to say, ‘See what I mean?’ Once X looked satisfied and took his leave, K gently placed a hand on her shoulder to turn her back around. His touch sent another wave of heat. She straightened her posture, looking ahead.

Y/I jaw hurt from how hard she was holding her laugh. Squeezing her eyes shut, but she still felt K’s gaze, damn well knowing she’d break if she made eye contact. “Please stop looking at me before I lose it.”

“How’d you know--.”

The elevator jolted a stop, Y/I exiting first before K took the lead. She quickened her pace so they were next to each other. Outside K led her to his car, Y/I’s unable to contain her reaction at the sight of his car. A 1964 Ford Galaxy 500. She whistled as got into the car, missing how K was biting back a smirk.

The driver’s door slammed shut behind him, “Okay future-gal, where to?” Y/I’s brow raised, hands making a motion. She didn't have a damn clue at what to do next. Now that her original plan blew to shit.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” K parroted, just as confused and she made a face.

“I don’t know. Uh…go wherever you went last time.”

Did she forget she traveled back in time? “I haven’t been here last time. I didn’t tell you where I went?” She had to choose her next words carefully to not let anything slip. Nonetheless she let out a light chuckle.

“No, we don’t really talk.”

K huffed, adjusting himself in the seat, “What kind of partners sit in a car all day every day for 14 years and don’t talk?”

“Exactly,” her smile is tight, proving her point. She points a finger between the both of them, “and this is the type of problem it causes. It’s dysfunctional and annoying if I’m being quite honest. And technically we’ve been partners for ten years but that’s a long story and one for another day.” She didn’t miss the curious look that came over him, but it was quickly replaced with frustration.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he put one hand on the wheel while his arm laid across the headrest of the seats, face serious. “You better get useful real quick, or you’re going back to room 43.”

Y/I muttered something he couldn’t hear, turning away to gaze out the windshield. Brows furrowed deep in thought as she picked through her brain for any information.

“Okay, uh,” she bit her lip, “the file--the file I read about Boris before coming here said something about a factory,” she looked back at K, “something happened at a factory on the 13th.” She heard him sigh, and Y/I held back her own. “Look, pretty boy, I’m giving you all I got. You can stare at me with your jedi knight--,” she forgot Star Wars had yet to be released for another seven years. “Looking eyes, but that’s all--we’ve got two days to find out where he’s going.”

To her surprise, K started the car. She tilted her head, “oh, did that spark something for you, cowboy?”

“Roman had this on his person when he was murdered,” In his hand was a matchbook, Y/I reached to take it. On both sides read ‘Cosmo Lanes,’ the letters encased in bowling pins.

“It’s a matchbox.”

“No, it’s a clue,” K corrected, making her look at him puzzled. Then he answered her unspoken question, “He didn’t smoke.” They were off with the roar of the engine trailing behind. Off to Cosmo Lanes with their lead.

The entire drive Y/I kept stealing glances at K. Not hiding her intrigue at all or how she admired his features. Jet black hair, shiny and sleek. Smile lines--which she always found adorable. Brown eyes that twinkled whenever he smirked or gave a genuine smile.

She must’ve been staring because K snapped her out of it as he said, “You lose something over here, darlin’?”

Instead of becoming embarrassed and flinging herself out of the car, Y/I held her chin high, feeding off the confidence she usually carried herself with. Lip curling, as she tipped a brow up, “Say, K, I’m curious. How old are you?”

It took a moment for him to answer, “twenty-nine.”

“Wow,” Y/I hummed, making K give her a, ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Her grin widened, tone taking a teasing nature, “Just that you got some city miles on ya.”

Now it was K’s turn to smirk, “You know I’m starting to understand why we don’t talk.” Y/I chuckled, facing forward in the seat. K turned down the music lightly, “Exactly what year in the future are you from?”

“Twenty-Twelve,” she heard him make a sound, like he was calculating his age in 2012. “Don’t worry, you're still a stud even in your old age. Silver hair suits you.”

“Glad to hear,” Y/I heard his smile, matching her own. “What you said earlier, about us being partners for ten years, what’d you mean by that?” She hadn’t expected that question, tightening her lips as she debated on opening that can of worms.

“Like I said, it's a long and complicated story.”

K’s eyes flickered to her, “we got time.”

She snorted, “Should I really be telling you? I’m not an expert in time travel, but what if telling you about what happens in the future inevitably dooms it?” All she received was a shrug, making her head fall back against the seat.

“Well,” she breathed through her nose, clicking her teeth. “As I mentioned--after you nearly fried my brain--you recruited me in ‘97, but after the first job you decided to retire and had me neuarlize you,” She briefly glanced to find K raising his brows, visibly surprised. “Then five years later in ‘02, you held the key to stopping a homicidal maniac so I had to drag you back to MiB. Once that was over, you just stayed,” leaning her head to look at K, Y/I smirked, “And we’ve been going now ten years strong. My longest relationship really--you should be honored.” She couldn’t help but tease, watching the man flush red.

Even as a young stallion K was easy to fluster.

“I love that,” she giggled lightly, looking away when he turned his head.

“What?”

“Oh nothing,” she jutted, but then came clean, unable to contain her laugh. “Just that you’re still easy to tickle.” Y/I didn’t see it, but K’s gaze lingered on her. Fondness peaking through as a million questions racked his brain but he refused to ask--the leading being just who was she to him? Yeah they were work partners, but call it intuition, K felt there was something more to Y/I and what she meant to him.

Whatever it was now was not the time to drown himself in theories. Gathering his priorities, K kept only two things in mind: 1) they had a job to do and 2) this woman was from his future. They needed to find Boris, stop him from changing the future, and get her back home.

They pulled up to the bowling alley, K shutting off the engine after putting the car in park. Y/I leaned forward to get a better look. “How well do you know this place?”

“I know its reputation.”

“I don’t like it,” she shook her head, finding it sketchy. “I hate going in blind. I’m gonna need my gun back.”

“Sure thing, slick,” a handcuff clasped on Y/I wrist, a gasp leaving her as he cuffed her to the steering wheel while she gaped at him like he lost his damn mind.

“K! What the hell?!” she fought against his grip, “I need to go in there with you!”

“You just sit tight. I’ll be fine.” K was out the door and entering the establishment. Leaving Y/I shouting after him, “Stop--K! You can’t go in by yourself. When I get back to the future I’m going to have serious words for you!” She puffed out a breath as his suit clad figure disappeared. Her hands searched around the car, ‘I wonder…’ reaching for the ashtray, Y/I made a ‘ah-ha!’ sound as she found the spare key underneath.

“Same old K,” the smirk stayed on her lips, freeing herself from the cuffs and racing out the car. Going quiet as she accessed the center to take in the scene. K had his gun on a man, who in turn had four guns pointed at him. Grabbing the first thing, a bowling pin, Y/I inched her way until she was bringing down the pin on the alien’s head. Promptly knocking him out.

“See you still keep the key under the ashtray,” she saw the flicker of what looked like astonishment.

“Lucky guess,” he played it off, facing the man who was not passed out on the floor. “Now, where were we?”

After landing a spare on the lanes, finding the owner’s dead body, and a call to O for information, the two tracked down where Boris was heading next. From what K said, it was the factory.

Now they had two days to spare until then. And frankly, Y/I was beat like a tennis ball after Wimbledon. She needed a hot shower, food, and at least ten hours of sleep. It was pushing close to 6pm and Y/I was about two seconds away from making a bed out of K's backseat.

“Where are we?” a yawn escaped her when the car came to a halt. Squinting at the unknown building they were in front of.

“My place,” K casually replied, exiting the car as if it were nothing while Y/I choked on her saliva.

“Your what?” The wind hit her as she climbed out, gawking at the man. People passing by gave them looks which they ignored. “Why are we at your place, K?”

His brow tipped up, “You’re exhausted. So we’ll pick things back up tomorrow.”

“Okay….” she agreed, but her tone was still confused. “That still doesn’t explain why we’re at your place.” Then it hit Y/I, heat filling her veins and she began to splutter. “K, If you’re insinuating what I think you are, I can go get a hotel.”

“Oh really and how are you gonna do that?” K countered, hands going in his pockets. “You don’t have any money on ya, sweetheart.” Y/I tilted her head in surprise.

“And just how do you know that?” She could’ve sworn she had her credit cards on her. Learning not to carry cash on her at times now that most places were switching to cards only or never had change in the registers.

Fuck K didn’t think about how that would sound. Face redding as he adjusted his jacked, “Um,” his throat cleared, “I confiscated everything on ya at HQ and there was no wallet. Just assumed you weren’t carrying any.”

Instantly Y/I fished for her MiB badge, where she hid her Capital One credit card. Flashing it to him, “I have this.”

“What is it?” He snatched it to get a better look. Reading the print of a name he assumed was her alias, several numbers in a line and expiration date. Not recognizing the company labeled at the top.

“My credit card,” she said as if it were obvious, forgetting where she was. K’s face was questioning, making Y/I go, “What?”

“This won’t work at a hotel, slick,” he passed the card back, but not before reading it one more time. Before she could ask why K gave the answer. “For starters Capital One doesn’t exist yet. And the expiration date will have everyone turning heads,” his face turned serious, “but the main thing, if you attempt to pay with that, the authorities are going to have a field day wondering how you managed to forge a credit account.”

Y/I’s jaw dropped, absolutely floored. Forge an account? Yeah the name on the card wasn’t her real name but it was the MiB issued credit card and worked perfectly fine. And she was certain she hadn’t maxed it out yet. It’d just been used on her daily bodega order that morning.

“This isn’t fake! I get it’s not my real name, but thanks to MiB it hasn’t let me down yet. How will it--,” she cut herself on as it crossed her mind. What he was trying to tell her without really saying it. Y/I brought a hand to her nose, scrunching it. Feeling stupid she hadn’t realized it sooner as a sigh left her, “I’m not supposed to have a credit card.”

In fact, no woman was supposed to have one. They wouldn’t get the right to open their own credit accounts until 1974. Where they’d be free without having a husband, father, or brother cosign on one.

Gotta love the 60s…..

“What’s it gonna be, slick?” K voice brought her back to reality. Lifting her eyes from the pavement to meet his. Air caught in her throat suddenly, ‘Wow K has beautiful eyes.’

“I’m taking the bed,” Y/I gave in, lighting a cigarette she stole from a pack in K’s car before heading into the building with one thing on her mind: sleep. “I deserve it after jumping off a damn building and almost having my brain cooked.”

[otdiaftg]

The King's Men - Chapter Three

Day: Thursday, January 4th Time: 7:20 PM EST

"What did I say yesterday?" Neil asked her. "Why did you react like that?" It didn't take her long to remember. "About the knives, you mean." When Neil nodded, she turned her hands over and considered her palms. "You remember I told you I used to be in a gang? There was a man there who went out of his way to hurt me. He liked knives and kept a half-dozen on him at all times. I couldn't defend myself by normal means, so I learned to fight with knives, too. I practiced for a year before I finally bested him. "'Bested'." Renee contemplated the word choice for a few moments before saying, "He didn't survive the fight. Boss helped stage the body so we could pin it on a rival gang and I was promoted. I kept the knives through my trial and my adoption. I wanted to remember what darkness I'm capable of—and what darkness I'm capable of surviving." "You did what you had to do," Neil said. "If he lived he would have come back for you." "I know," Renee said, soft. "There were other girls before I caught his eye; there would be girls after I left. But I didn't do it for the greater good. I did it because he wronged me personally and I didn't want to be afraid of him anymore. I regret what it did to me more than I regret the necessity of his death. I felt no horror when I watched him die. I was proud of what I'd done to him. "I told Andrew what I did," Renee said. "The next day while I was at class he broke into my room and took my knives. When I asked for them back, he said I was lying to myself. If I wanted to remember, I wouldn't hide the knives in my closet like a shameful secret I couldn't revisit or let go of. They weren't doing me any good, so he said he would carry them until I needed them again. "I let him have them because I trusted him not to use them," Renee said. "I thought he understood what they were supposed to be: not weapons anymore but a symbol of what we've overcome. I didn't ask him for his reasons. I knew he would tell me if he wanted me to know." The obvious answer was Drake, but it didn't add up quite right. Neil turned it over in his head, working his way through it, and thought about the scars on Andrew's forearms. Who had Andrew survived: Drake or himself? Neil wasn't going to share that idea with Renee, so he said, "So those knives he brings everywhere are yours?" "Were mine," Renee said. "He was right; I don't need them anymore. If you need them, he will give them to you, and I will teach you how to use them." She wasn't smiling anymore. Neil studied her calm expression and knew she meant it. She'd put her faith in mankind and her Christian piety on hold and show him how to cut a man open throat to groin if he asked her to. Neil was starting to understand why Andrew liked her. She was crazy enough to be interesting. "Thank you," Neil said, "but no. I don't want to be like—him." He didn't say he'd used knives before; one couldn't grow up a Wesninski without having a blade pushed into his hand. Nathan didn't have the time or patience to teach his son but he'd put two of his people to the task. Luckily Neil left home before he progressed past cutting up hunks of dead animals. "Of course," Renee agreed. She waited a moment to see if anything else was forthcoming, then got to her feet. "I shouldn't keep Allison waiting, but if you want to talk more later you know where to find me." "Okay," Neil said.

Art used with permission by Aymmidumps. Thank you @aymmidumps

[fl3shm4id3n]

𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓚𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓤𝓼 𝓐𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬. 𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦, 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐍𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ɴᴇᴛᴇʏᴀᴍ x ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ! ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜱᴏɴɢ: ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇᴇᴋɴᴅ - ᴅɪᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ

Tw: sneaking around behind Ronal’s back, Ao’nung being an overprotective brother, threatening? A bit of angst in the beginning but fluff towards the end.

Author’s note: I thought it would be good that y/n finds out more about her mother. Have a lovely day/night :) 

Masterlist

The next morning, you were woken up by your mother, she made you eat breakfast since you didn’t eat last night. After she had done your hair, she had taken off the beads that Neteyam had braided in your hair, she wanted to remove every trace of Neteyam you had on you, after she had removed the beads she did your hair. She braided your hair into a fish tale, it was simple, but it made you remember when you were a child, you’d beg your mother to braid your hair into a fish tale and she gladly would.

Once she was finished, Ronal hugged you from behind and kissed your head. “I love you y/n, I’ll always love you” she said in your ear as you hugged her larger arms back. “I love you too mama” you said as she then pulled away from you. “Go get dressed, then meet me back here” she said as you nodded and went to change.

You slipped on a dark brown top made out of soft rope with a dark blue skirt. Before you were about to leave Tsireya walked in, with something behind her. “Morning Tsireya” you said as she walked up to you, then showed you what she had behind her, it was the beads that your mother had taken off. “How did you get them?” you whispered to her as she smiled down at you. “I manage to get them from Mother, I told her I would return them to Neteyam but I came to give them to you.” 

She said with a smile. “Thank you thank you thank you” you whispered to her, then you thought of something. “Tsireya? Can you do me a favor?” you asked as your sister nodded. “Please tell Neteyam that I won’t be able to see him for a while, and I love him” you said as Tsireya nodded. 

“Y/n?” your mother had called for you in which you gave your sister one last smile and left. You had followed Ronal everywhere she went, you also helped her with whatever she needed. You also had been distracted too, you have been thinking of Neteyam the whole time. You had not seen him half a day and you felt as if you were dying without him. 

When your mother would notice you getting distracted, she give you a task to get you to stop thinking of whatever or someone in your mind. You did it with no problem, but it felt as if the day was going slow, slower than ever. When you were with Neteyam time went by fast, but not today. 

Meanwhile, Neteyam had been wondering where you were, he had not seen you at all, he felt as if he was going crazy. He began to look for you around the beach, he checked your spot first but didn’t see you. So he began looking for you, until he spotted Tsireya approach him. “Neteyam, I need to tell you something” she said, stopping in front of him. “Yeah what is it?” He asked, now a little worried. “Its about y/n, she got in trouble yesterday” she said, making Neteyam a bit more worried. “What kind of trouble?” he asked. “Y/n told my mother about you guys, she wasn’t very happy so, as a punishment, Y/n has to be with my mother until y/n has forgotten about you” she said.

Neteyam now understood. “Damn” he said a bit frustrated about this, Tsireya looked at him and then took his hand. “Its okay, she also told me to tell you that she loves you” she said with an apologetic smile. Neteyam smiled by this, he now knew that even though you were forbidden to see him, you still loved him. “When you see her again, tell her that I love her... Could you do that?” he asked as Tsireya nodded. “Of course, if you need me to tell her anything, I’ll tell her” she said with a much bigger smile. 

A few days had passed, Tsireya had been yours and Neteyam’s messenger. She would deliver both messages back to back. Even though you were both far away from each other, you still loved one another. Sometimes, he’d send you flowers, when Ronal would ask about them, you’d tell her that Tsireya gave them to you and you’d put them on your hair. 

That night, once everyone was asleep, Tsireya had told you about Neteyam’s message. That he misses you a lot, you felt your stomach flutter, this felt like the first time you’d set eyes on Neteyam. You weren’t the one to really disobey but this was the exception. 

The next morning, Neteyam had been picking and looking for flowers to send to you. He then heard someone approach him, when he looked to see who it was, it was Ao’nung. “So, you and my sister, yes?” he said while his arms were crossed, Neteyam turned to him and nodded. “Yes, your sister and I have been seeing each other, and let me tell you something, no matter what you or anyone says I-” he was cut off by Ao’nung.

“Calm down, I’m not here to tell you to stay away from her” he said as Neteyam raised his bow. “Your not?” he asked as Ao’nung spoke “nope, look I just want Y/n to be with someone she loves, we all know that she can’t mate like the rest of us, but she wishes for you to be her mate, then so be it” he said looking into his eyes. Neteyam was surprised by his words, but he also understood him, if this situation was happening to one of his sisters, he’d do the same. “But if you hurt her in anyway, I will teach you not to hurt her again, or ever” he said as Neteyam nodded. “I understand” then Ao’nung stuck out his arm to him, Neteyam then took out his and got a hold of Ao’nung’s and gave it one shake, sealing the little agreement. 

That day, Ronal and you had been with both Norm and Max, she was somewhat interested in their tech, she wanted to know why they had so much tech and other equipment. While your mother and Max were talking, you had been with Norm. He is a very nice guy, also very funny, he told you many stories about his time in Pandora along with other stories involving Jake. Sometimes you’d notice how he’d look at you, as if he knew you before, but in a different life.

“You know, you look a lot like her” Norm said to you catching you off guard. “Like who?” you asked now curious. “Well, her name was y/m/n y/l/n, she was a scientist like me. She was the nicest person you could ever meet.” He said as he continued “she was expecting with a baby, so she began to do experiments in her stomach so that her baby so that her child is able to breath normally and not in a mask.” He said, you paid close attention, but had asked. “Did she have a mate?” you asked as Norm nodded. “Yes, his name was y/f/n, her husband, he went out one day, but never returned. Y/m/n went to find him and she also turned out missing.” He said.

“She must have stubbled here and given birth to you” Norm said, you already knew of your real mother but not of her story before she died. She was a nice person, and she had a mate too. “Here, you can have this” Norm said taking out a small picture from a wallet he still carried with him and handed it to you. You took the picture. The picture had a human woman, she was smiling, you noticed how her hair was dark like yours, her eyes were like yours, same with her skin, and you had also notice she had a bump on her stomach. That must of been you. You continued to look at the photo until you heard your name being called.

“Y/n, lets go” your mother said as you nodded. You got up and looked at Norm. “Thank you, thank you very much” Norm smiled at you. “No problem kiddo” he said as you left with your mother. Back home, you were sitting on the floor, looking at the picture of your biological mother, it felt nice seen her. Since Na’vi didn’t have this kind of technology, you had always wanted to know how the person who had brought you into the world looked like. 

“What is that?” your mother asked as she sat next to you, with basket filled with fish and large leaves, beginning to prepare dinner. “Norm gave this to me” you showed her the picture, she looked at it and her eyes looked sadden. “Yes, I remember her” she said as she looked at you, gently rubbing your small cheek. You smiled at her gentle touch, yes your mother may be harsh and short tempered but she was the most loving person when it came to you and your siblings.

You and Ronal had been making dinner, you were busy skinning another fish to wrap it in a leave. Then your father walked in, you gave him a smile and went back to skinning the fish. “Ma Ronal” he went over and kissed his mate on the cheek, as she was cooking the fish on the fire. “Ma Tonowari” she said smiling at his affection. You loved seeing them being affectionate, you wanted to share an intimate moment with your mate like your parent’s did. A moment like that with Neteyam. 

“You wouldn’t mind if I took y/n for a ride?” Tonowari asked his mate, this made your ears perk up by his request. Ronal looked at him then at you, thinking for a moment. “Fine, you can, be back before dinner” she said smiling at you. Once you were done with the fish, you handed it to your mother who place it on the small rack over the fire. You and Tonowari left, you felt excited, being able to spend some time with your father, you were both walking close to the beach. “Go to him, he is waiting for you” he said, you got confused “he?” you asked as your father then gave you a smile.

You then realized he was talking about Neteyam “really? But mother said I coulnd’t-” you were cut off by your father. “It’s okay, this will be our little secret” he said as you smiled and hugged him tightly. “I’ll come get you when its time for dinner” he said as you let go of him, giving him one last final smile and ran to your spot. You ran as fast as you could, not turning back. When you found the small little private beach, you saw him. “Neteyam!” You shouted, getting his attention. “Y/n?” he said not sure if he was seeing things, but he realized it was you. 

Once you got closer to him, you practically jumped into his arms. He fell backwards on the sand, but he didn’t care. He hugged you tightly against his chest, he had been missing your touch for the last few days. He almost went crazy not being able to see you. You looked into his yellow eyes, those lovely sun colored eyes. “Ma Neteyam, I’ve missed you so much, I felt like I had lost part of my soul” You admitted. “Ma y/n, I have missed you too” he said as he then turned your bodies over, you were now under him. Neteyam began to attack your face with kisses making you giggle by his affection.

Like the last time you saw him, you laid on his chest, you missed this, you still couldn’t explain how you managed to live without seeing him. “I see you have been receiving the flowers” he said had took notice of the flower on your hair. You smiled “I have, Tsireya has been giving them to me” you said smiling. He leaned down and kissed your small nose. “I missed this, I’m sorry about my mother” you said as he looked at you. “It’s okay, she is only doing what is best for you” he said. “How did your mother react?” you asked. 

“She was not happy, but was willing to let us happen, well my dad managed to convince her, somehow” he said, you smiled. Glad that his mother had given him the chance to have a relationship with you. “That’s good” you said. For the remaining of the time, you both talked about your day along with what you had been up to these past few days since you were grounded. You had told him about the picture that Norm had given you about your mother, you felt that Neteyam should know about her that was an intimate topic that he should know, since he was your mate and you had trusts in one another. 

“Y/n!” you heard your father call out to you. That was your call to leave, you got up from Neteyam and helped him get up. “I have to go” you said as Neteyam pulled you into tight hug, he was hugging you as if it were your last hug together. “I hope to see you soon” he said as he then pulled away to get a look at your smaller face. “Me too” he said. Then you departed way, getting one more glance at him, while walking towards your father. Your father was standing, you approached him, he was soaked head to toe. “You might want to jump in the water, so your mother doesn’t suspect” he suggested as you walked over to the ocean, getting soaked like your father. Once done you both walked back to the marui.

When you got there, Ronal, Ao’nung and Tsireya were waiting for you and your father. You both sat down and everyone began to each. The whole dinner, you had been remembering your time with Neteyam, already missing him. After dinner you went to bed, you and Tsireya had been talking about your day, you then had whispered to her that you meet Neteyam. She glad that you were happy, she hated seeing you sad due to not being able in seeing your mate. Then you both drifted off into sleep, that day had been a good day, hopefully tomorrow will be another good day, right?

Taglist: @byunpum, @moony-artemis, @aonungs-tsahik, @rennyramen , @somewereinthegalaxi , @em-asian , @fanboyluvr, @mashiromochi, @eternallyvenus , @teenagemuffinlampcalzone, @ssophiebirkas, @fanficblogs, @httpsplanetmarsdotcom, @laylasbunbunny, @yeosxxx, @lola-bunn1, @naynay2808, @inutheangel, @bxnnywriting, @mirikusashes, @ifevilwhyhot, @estellerogue​, @maria-1287, @howdidthishappenomg, @weepingwitchofthewest​

[theclairvoyage]

Centrifugation: Chapter 6

Series Masterlist

A familiar face returns to the center.

Warnings: gun violence, knife violence, character death, mentions of blood, brief smut, panic attack, fluff, emotional turmoil, hospital stuff, stitches.

WC: 4.1k

Banners courtesy of @cafekitsune and @saradika

Wednesday, October 20th | 0755

As you clock in for your first shift after some time off, you feel recharged and ready to tackle the day.  The parking lot wasn’t too full, which was a good start—much easier than having to do cleanup as soon as you walk in the door.  Keri came in later today, meaning you’d get to spend a little more time with her in the afternoon—she usually opened and was one of the first ones to leave.  The morning rush was decent, and your trainee, Jayla, came in for a bit to make up for the lost hours last week.  You showed her the basics of setting up a machine, sticking a donor, and disconnecting them once they were done.  She seemed eager to learn and caught on quickly—by midday, she was doing setups and disconnects by herself.  Keri rolled in around 1100 and sent the two of you to your lunch break.

“I need an update on your date,” she says as she throws on a lab coat, winking at you.  You smile and feel your cheeks warm.

“You were right about him being great in bed,” you say, and her jaw drops.  She punches your arm with a giggle.

“I knew it!! And he lives in West O?  I didn’t realize he was rich rich,” she says, eyes widening.  Her expression turns to confusion soon after, and she asks, “Wait, why does he donate, then?”  You explain Sarah’s “fun money” situation, admitting that even if he didn’t donate, she’d probably still have plenty of fun money.

“You know, there are good people out there that donate just to be helpful,” Keri reminds you, half-sarcastically.  Those people existed, but they were few and far between.  Most people needed the money—Joel was not one of them.

“So, now that we both know he doesn’t need the money, really… it means if he keeps coming here, it’s just to see you,” she says with a snicker.

“I have a feeling those won’t be the only times he’ll see me during the week,” you say, giving her an exaggerated wink, mouth dropping open as you squeeze one eyelid shut.  She laughs.

“Girl… how big is he?” she whispers, leaning in close to you so any donors nearby won’t hear.  Your cheeks heat up at the memory of your escapades the last few days.

“Biggest I’ve ever had, swear,” you whisper, “He’s very… thick.”  Her eyes widen.

“So, what you’re saying is that you’re sore right now?” she asks, a devilish smirk curling on her cheeks.

“It’s like I rode a horse,” you say, causing you both to bust out laughing.  Keri pushes you toward the break room door as she giggles.

“Go to break before I waste all my time talking about your sex life!”  You wink at her again and do just that.

Wednesday, October 20th | 1315

Your lunch break went by smoothly—you ate some of the food you had meal prepped yesterday and got to know Jayla a bit more.  She was a freshman studying premed at the University of Nebraska-Omaha, not too far from the center.  She admitted that this was her first real job, but she enjoyed it and looked forward to learning more—she even apologized for the call-ins last week.  Feeling confident that she could take on some tasks independently, you let her man her own section for a bit.  You remember now that you need to request some time off to see your grandma.

You hang up your coat and ask Keri to keep an eye on Jayla before making your way to the manager’s office, which is on the opposite side of the building.  You walk past the reception area and back to the restricted area to find Trina’s office door open.  She’s perched at her desk, searching through the camera footage.  An officer is next to her, staring at the monitor as she clicks through the archived footage.  Apprehensively, you knock on the door.  Trina looks up and gives you a warm smile.

“Hey!  We were just going through the footage of Cedric’s incident last week so they can finalize the police report,” Trina says, giving you a reassuring nod.  “Officer Petrovski, this is my lead phlebotomist and the one who was threatened by him.”  You offer your hand and shake his.  He’s shorter than you and quite thin, bald with thick-rimmed glasses.  He must be the cyber crimes type, you think.

“Excellent, send the footage to this email address and we’ll notify you once everything is complete,” he says, giving Trina a business card before shaking her hand.  He gives you a short nod as he steps out of the office.

“So, what brings you in here, dear?” Trina asks, organizing some stacks of paper on her desk before looking up at you.

“I need to request some PTO next month—my Grandma isn’t doing too well,” you say, trying to keep the conversation light-hearted.  She gives you a sympathetic look and pulls a calendar off the wall behind her.

“You have the most PTO of everyone, as you know,” she says with a chuckle, “So your options are pretty open.”  You look down at the calendar and see a handful of people have requested Thanksgiving off, which is par for the course.  There’s a week at the beginning of November that’s empty.

“How about the first week of November?  Monday the 1st through the 8th,” you offer, pointing at the empty dates.  She scribbles your name in each of the date boxes for that week.

“You’re all set.  I’ll put in your PTO the week before then.  And please—,” she stops to put a thoughtful hand on your arm, “Reach out if you need anything.  You’re aware of our counseling resources, but also if you just need to talk.”  You smile, blinking back tears.  Trina has always been thoughtful—always puts her employees first.

“Thanks, Trina.  I will,” you say, waving at her as you step out of the office.  You pull your phone up to text Joel the dates, noticing that he’s already texted you.

Joel: Hope you have a great day, sweetheart.

Joel: Let me know when I need to take off work for our trip.

You smile.  You two must have some telekinetic connection.

You: I literally just requested the time off not even 5 minutes ago.  November 1st-8th.  Does that work for you?

Joel: Yep.  Helps to be the boss 😉

You: Sorry I missed your first text.  It’s been a good morning!  My trainee is doing really well and it’s not too busy here.

Joel: That’s great.  I gotta get back to a client with Tommy, but I’ll talk to you later this evening.  Miss you already.

You: You too 😊

You head back to the break room to drop your phone off, walking through the reception area first.  The chairs are empty—unusual for this time of day.  Usually, the late lunch rush starts and bleeds into the dinner rush.  The front door swings open right as you’re about to head through the restricted employee-only area—the person that steps in makes you freeze.

It's Cedric.  He looks like a cracked-out white Jesus—long, stringy blonde hair that probably hasn’t been brushed in days.  Skinny figure, average height.  His pupils are pinpointed, dark circles pooling underneath his eyes, fingers twitching, baring teeth that have an overdue need for dental work—very Smeagol-like.  He’s high on something.  He’s hunched over slightly and staring right at you, bloodthirsty.  You’re still frozen in place, unsure of what to do.  He speaks first.

“You got me deferred, and I’m short on cash,” he spits, teeth gritted.  His hands curl into clenched fists.  Your eyes narrow briefly as you stare at him, anger flashing through your system.

“You got yourself deferred by blowing something out of proportion and throwing your dirty arm wrap at me,” you remind him, taking a deep breath.  One of the employees in reception has to be seeing this showdown and calling Trina—otherwise this could get ugly, fast.  Your response pisses him off more.

“Bitch!  Your shitty phleb wrapped my arm wrong and I spoke up about it!” he flares, voice raising with each word.  He steps toward you, reaching in his rear waistband for something.  Fuck.  Your phone is in your pocket, and you need to pull it out to activate 911.  You hold both hands up, palms facing him in a surrender-type gesture.  Eyes still on him, you lean your head toward the reception and office area, prepared to scream.  He steps closer, now 20 feet away from you, hand still glued to his rear waistband.

“Come closer and I’ll fucking scream,” you warn him.  He smiles creepily, his disgusting yellow teeth on full display.  He pulls a knife out of his rear waistband, the handle wrapped in camoflauge tape.  It’s a drop-point blade, roughly six inches long.  The blade is dirty and rusty.

The next few moments are a blur and propelled not by thought, but by instinct.  Cedric lunges forward at you, slashing at you with the knife.  A sharp pain lights up your arm.  You kick his stomach after the slash, knocking him to the ground.  You run back toward Trina’s office, warm liquid spilling down your arm.  She’s not in here.  You lock yourself in, comforted by the fact that he doesn’t know the door code.  Plasma centers are built to keep donor access very limited—something you’re quite grateful for in this moment.  Sirens are blaring, but you can’t remember when they started.  The cops must’ve been called during your confrontation.  You hear shouting, footsteps screeching and pounding on the vinyl composite tile floors, some terrified screams, a man yelling—must be one of the officers.  Boom.  Boom.  Boom.  Three gunshots.  Oh god—what the fuck is happening out there?  You remember Trina has access to the camera footage in here, but her screen is locked.  You’re stuck in here.  Now that you’re still, the adrenaline clouding your pain has subsided, and you look down to see a decently-sized gash on your left outer forearm—you must’ve raised your hands defensively when Cedric slashed at you.  It’s deep.  Frantically, you look for something to stop the bleeding—there’s a black jacket resting on Trina’s chair.  You rip it off and wrap it around your wound, squeezing tight.  There’s a heavy knock at the door.

“Police!  Is anyone in here?” a man’s voice shouts.  You open your mouth to reply, but your breath catches in your throat.  Wobbily, you step forward to open the door.  Two officers are behind the door, guns pointed at you.

“Ma’am, are you hurt?” one of them asks.  You try to lift your arm, blood seeping out from under the jacket and onto the floor.  Before you can respond verbally, the room turns black.

Wednesday, October 20th | 1857

Bright.  Fuck, it’s bright in here.  You try to open your eyes, but the fluorescent light stings them, forcing you to squeeze them shut.  You groan in confusion.  A cold hand comes up to grip your shoulder.

“Hon, you’re awake—you alright?” a familiar voice asks, frantic.  It’s Keri.  You open your eyes, vision blurry and eyes heavy.  You’re in a hospital room, donned in one of those ugly printed gowns.  Your left arm is wrapped with thick gauze, IV taped to your hand.  You’re tired, sluggish—like each movement of your pupils is draining what little energy you have left.  Blinking a few times, you finally focus on Keri’s face.  She’s seated on your bed, hands holding your uninjured arm for dear life.  Her face is red, and tear stained.

“Ker—wh-why are we in a hospital?” you ask, moving your bandaged arm up to block the bright light.  Your arm aches, a dull throb pulsing down to your shoulder.  You wince.  She shushes you.

“Don’t try to move your arm, hon—relax.  Cedric came back for revenge and stabbed you.  Do you remember that?” she asks, rubbing your shoulder.  You close your eyes and remember his nasty yellow teeth bared at you, the hunch of his figure, him reaching in his waistband for something—then clips of you on a stretcher, healthcare workers shouting as they push you through a hallway.

“Fuck,” you whisper, “Yeah, I remember—did they, did—,” you cut yourself off, remembering hearing gunshots at the center.

“Cedric’s dead.  Tried to stab the cops, apparently.  He was wigged out on heroin,” Keri says, voice calm, grounding.  Your stomach drops, imagining his lifeless body on the vinyl floor in the main lobby of the center.  Trina walks into the room, eyes red and swollen.  She’s been crying, too.  She sobs a sigh of relief seeing you awake and talking, albeit sluggishly.  She comes up behind Keri and holds your right hand tightly.

“Jesus, I’m so glad you’re okay, I’m so sorry I wasn’t by the front when he came in,” she says, clearly racked with guilt.  You shake your heavy head.

“S’not your fault, Trin—he just got lucky,” you say, smirking and forcing a laugh out of those two.

“Heard you kicked the shit outta him,” she says, smiling and wiping tears from her cheeks.  Keri’s crying again, too, but also laughing.

“Felt like Street Fighter,” you mumble, clearly high on whatever painkillers are dripping through your IV, and they cackle.  Suddenly, you remember wrapping your arm with the jacket on her chair.  “Trin—I, your jacket, I had to—,” she cuts you off, squeezing your hand and closing her eyes as she shakes her head.

“Don’t even worry about it—I’m glad there was something in there that helped you,” she assures you.

“Stitches?” you ask them.  They both nod.

“Fourteen,” Keri says, voice calm but apprehensive.  Your eyes widen.

“He got me good,” you breathe, leaning your head back onto your pillow and clamping your eyes shut.  There’s a knock at the open door of your room.  A tall, dark, curly-haired handsome man is at the doorway.  Joel.  You smile as best you can in your current state.  Keri leans into your ear.

“I called him,” she whispers, “I know you’re stubborn as hell, but I’m pretty certain he’s crazy about you and would want to help.”  You’re not mad at her—you’re relieved to see him.  Keri and Trina step out and shut the door behind them, giving you privacy.  Joel rushes over to where Keri sat and replaces her.  His face is stricken with worry, eyes wet and red—he’s been crying.  Shit.  He wraps his arms around you, careful not to squeeze too hard, and buries his face in your neck.

“I was so fuckin’ worried about you, I came as soon as I could—fuck, darlin’ I’m so sorry I wasn’t here faster, I shouldn’t have let h—,” you cut him off with a shush, running the fingers of your right hand through his hair and smoothing the back of his neck.

“It’s okay, Joel—not your fault.  Please don’t blame yourself,” you whisper in his ear, holding him tightly.  You want him to stay as close as possible.  Pain and guilt curl around your lungs at the sight of your closest ones being upset.  You know it’s not your fault, but it hurts to see them like this.

“God, I’m so fuckin’ glad you’re okay, baby, when I got the call, I was—,” he stops for a second, tears pooling in his beautiful amber eyes.  He stares in your eyes and smiles, the sight of you calming him.  You’re clearly loaded on morphine and exhausted out of your mind, dark circles under your eyes, hair a tangly mess—but you’re still gorgeous.

“Kiss me, Joel,” you plead quietly, tears forming in your eyes.  One trickles down.  He kisses it, the salt stinging his lips.  He kisses the corner of your mouth, your chin, your jaw, before finally placing his lips on yours.  The kiss is gentle at first, but your exhaustion and his despair at the thought of losing you take over, and it gets hot and heavy.  Your mouths are frantic, teeth bumping and tongues twisting—it’s fast and messy, both of you pouring your relief into one another.  His beard scratches your chin, and you moan, pulling him tighter to you.  He cups your face in his hands and pulls away, panting heavily in your face.

“We’re alright, darlin’, let’s get you better before we do anything else,” he says, chuckling and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“S’just my arm, Joel—I don’t need it for that,” you say, slurring your words.  You’re starting to succumb to morphine, eyelids heavy and drooping.  He’s smiling at you softly, though eyes still veiled in worry.

“Get some sleep, my sweet girl.  I’ll be right here, okay?  I promise,” he says, giving you a chaste kiss before you drift off to sleep.

Thursday, October 21st | 0904

You slept all night, Joel in the chair by your side the entire time.  You woke feeling fine, minus the sore sting of your arm.  The charge nurse came in and changed your gauze and unhooked your IV, followed by the doctor, who cleared you to check out that morning.  She advised you to take it easy and come back for a follow-up appointment in two weeks.  She prescribed you some hefty pain pills, which worried you—the doctor stated that it’d be best to stay with someone while you were taking them.  Joel assured the doctor that he’d be taking care of you—making you swoon. The doctor also scheduled you for a psychiatric consultation, which was the standard for patients experiencing traumatic events like yours–probably a good thing.

Keri and Trina stopped by before you left and gave you the lowdown on the center, which would be closed for an indefinite amount of time so the police could investigate, and the staff could take time to recover from the incident.  Trina requested a medical leave of absence for you, which was approved by the corporate office quickly.

“I don’t wanna see you back at work until after your November trip—and take more time after that if you need it. You have a bank of PTO, remember,” she told you, wagging an index finger at you while smirking.

“Yes, ma’am,” you had said, saluting her and making everyone in the room giggle.

Now, you’re getting dressed and getting ready to leave the hospital with Joel.  He unties your gown from the front and pulls it off you, covering you with a blanket while he finds clothes that Keri had brought for you.  The room is cold, the frigid air making your nipples peak.  You’re naked under this blanket, and Joel is aware���painfully, so—but respects you in your time of vulnerability.  You’re mostly covered except the middle of your chest and abdomen, where the blanket doesn’t overlap, revealing a long triangle of skin from your sternum to underneath your belly button.  He turns back to you with some clothes in hand and his eyes latch onto your bare skin.  Sucking in a breath, he steps closer to you and hands you the clothes.  You watch him with a smirk and drop the blanket, eyes holding his gaze the entire time.  He can’t help but stare at your naked body—still mesmerized at your beauty.

“Sweetheart, not here,” he says, pained, dick tense against his denim, “As much as I want you and as fuckin’ beautiful as you are, we need to get you home first.”  His eyes strain to stay locked with yours.  You’re a mess, too—seeing him and his being there for you has been keeping you in a low, steady state of arousal the last 12 hours or so.  You’re dripping but can wait until you’re back in a bedroom and not a bright, stuffy hospital room.  For now, though, you want to tease him.

You reach down with your right hand and rub two fingers through your folds, eyes still locked on his.  He gasps and holds his breath, eyes traveling down to watch.  Rubbing slowly, you watch the desire flash over his face, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows tightly.  You remove your fingers and step closer to him.  You put your fingers up to his lips and he swallows again before opening his mouth to take them in.  He sucks on them with a long, low moan, eyes closed in delight at the sweet taste of you—the sight makes your pussy tingle.

Once he’s sucked them clean, you pull them out of his mouth and resume getting dressed like nothing happened.  He growls and comes up behind you, one arm snaked around your waist and the other hand draped around your throat loosely.  He tightens the hand around your neck just slightly, forcing your head up.  You gasp, the display of control and desire heightening your arousal.

“Baby… when we get home, I’m gonna make you come on my tongue as many times as I see fit, y’hear me?” he murmurs in your ear, facial hair close enough to brush your earlobe, “Doctor’s orders.”  You nod, shivering.  He lets go of you and smacks your ass lightly. You finish getting dressed and Joel walks you out of the room, one arm around your waist and the other hooked under the elbow of your injured arm. Both of you thank the nurses and doctor as he guides you to the elevator.

Once you’re outside, you’re relieved to see the sun shining.  It feels odd, though—like the weather doesn’t match your current mental state.  You realize now that you haven’t thought about what happened yesterday; rather, you haven’t had the opportunity to, given the fact that you’d been virtually unconscious until now.  Your introspection has caused you to stop walking, concerning Joel.  He steps in front of you and places both hands on your shoulders.

“Y’alright, sweetheart?” He blinks, clearly nervous about your current state.  You snap back into the present and shift your gaze between each of his eyes.  Your body is trembling, skin feeling clammy all the sudden—like a panic attack is on the verge.

“Y-yeah… I just realized I didn’t really have time to process yesterday—just kinda hit me all at once.  I’m fine though,” you lie, plastering a forced, fake smile on your face.  Joel sees right through it.

“Baby, I know you’re strong, but y’ain’t that strong—what happened to you was major, and it’s gonna take time to heal.  I’m right here with ya, every step of the way, I promise,” he assures you, squeezing your shoulders.  Tears spring from your eyes, a quiet sob escaping your throat.  You feel pathetic—one moment you’re naked, teasing Joel, and the next, you’re in a catatonic state, bawling on the sidewalk of a hospital.  He pulls you into a comforting hug, rubbing circles on your back and stroking your hair.  He repeats you’re okay baby, it’s okay, I got you.  You pull back, sniffling.  Joel wipes the tears from your face.  You let out a weak giggle. This man has known you for a blip and has seen so much of you already.

“This is pitiful, huh?” You ask him, wiping snot with the back of your good hand.  He laughs at you.

“Darlin’, you’re anything but.  Let’s get you home.  D’you wanna stay with me, or want me to stay at your place for a while?” You consider the options: your small apartment that contains all your clothes, or Joel’s luxurious, spacious home.

“Both?  If that’s okay… All my stuff is at my place, and I don’t wanna make you abandon your house,” you offer.  He nods.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart—I’ll be doin’ some work remotely, though you’ll have to help me with my damn computer,” he gripes, making you chuckle.  “I told Tommy what was goin’ on and he’s pullin’ a guy up from the Kansas City office to help for a few weeks, but I’ll still be takin’ care of the books and ordering things,” he says.

“Clerical duties,” you say, winking at him.

“Exactly, darlin’,” he winks back at you.  “So, do y’mind stayin’ at my place the first few nights?  We can stop and get some of your stuff,” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.  He must not have slept well in that stiff hospital room chair.  You nod and give him a warm smile.

“Let’s get goin’ then, we can stop by the grocery store and get whatever y’might want—snacks, all that,” he says, returning one arm to your waist as you both make your way to his truck.

“You’re such a dad, Joel,” you joke, poking his ribs lightly with your elbow.

“Don’t I know it, baby.”

Taglist: @burntheedges, @syd-djarin, @anoverwhelmingdin <3

[allys-corner]

Synopsis: Bucky accidentally hurts you and feels really guilty about it.

Bucky’s arm was freezing cold. Usually, he kept to your left side, therefore, avoiding you having to be near his metal arm (the insecure idiot), but tonight was different. Bucky had been messing with his arm all day. Tony had just done some repairs on it yesterday and it tended to be sore for a couple days after. So, as you guys sat down to watch a movie, you took the left side of the couch. Bucky threw a quick sceptic look your way before throwing himself on your side of the couch.

It was Bucky’s turn to pick the movie and he threw on some new sci-fi. Honestly, you didn’t think you or Bucky were going to last the whole movie. You’d both been throwing in extra hours at work this week and it was finally time for some rest. You knew Buck’s arm was extra painful when it was cold, so you took it upon yourself to warm the arm. Which brings us to the iceberg in the room which was your boyfriend’s arm. Given that your pjs consisted of a tank top and some sweats meant direct contact with the metal, but love meant sacrifices and by golly you were going to help in any way you could. Warming up Bucky’s arm was the price you paid for getting to wake up to this amazing guy every day.

Bucky really had walked into your life when you needed him the most and he had never let you down since. He had been there when your mom got sick and when you lost your dog. He was even there when you went through your DIY décor phase. You don’t know what you’d do without this man. That’s why you hated the way that he viewed himself. You know that he still thinks of himself as undeserving because of all of the things he has done, but he has been working through it with a new therapist that Bruce recommended. This is why you leaning up against his left side didn’t make Bucky flinch the way it used to.

A half hour passes, and Buck’s arm feels nice and warmed up. Now that your task was out of the way, you could finally focus on snuggling into your boyfriend. This is when the exhaustion from the day finally hits. You had been running on fumes and your body was ready to drop at any second. Plus, it didn’t help that it was so comfortable in this pocket of space between Bucky and the pillows. The drone of blasts from the tv begin to fade to white noise.

You couldn’t contain the small yelp you gave out. Bucky was instantly out of his seat looking around before examining you.

“Are you okay?” Buck askes and he grabs your arm and scans it. It’s then that he spots a medium sized welp on your bicep. Now, don’t ever let it be said that Bucky Barnes is stupid because that boy picks up on things pretty quickly. He instantly lets go with his metal hand and backs up a bit.

“Baby, it’s fine. It’s not a big deal. I think the arm just shocked me.” You were trying to be soothing, but damn that had really hurt. Buck knows that look on your face and you see his walls come up quick. It’s been a while since you’ve seen those.

“I’m going to go get the first aid kit,” and before you could get a word in, he was stomping off to the bathroom. While he’s gone you take a moment to examine your right arm. The mark doesn’t look to bad, but it might leave a small bruise. You heave a small sigh. Bucky is going to be fretting over this one for a bit. The hard part was comforting him as Bucky had been trained on avoidance for years. If he didn’t want to deal with something, he knew the best ways to sneak away and hide. The only reason you didn’t chase after him to the bathroom was the sole fact that you knew Bucky would make sure you were taken care of before retreating. That was the best time to strike.

You hear a door hinge creak as Bucky emerges with the kit. He makes his way to the coffee table and sits, all the while, avoiding eye contact with you. As Buck places the opened box on the table, you softly grab his chin.

“Babe, you know you can’t control accidents, right?” you speak tenderly as you turn his face to look at you. He reluctantly locks eyes with you before he bursts with frustration.

“I know I can’t, but this is why I try to keep the arm as far away from you as possible! I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt because of me or this stupid thing!” Buck retreats back to the medicine to try to calm himself. Bucky hated screaming in general, but especially at you. He didn’t want a relationship like so many he’d seen before. You fearing him more than loving him.

Before he could retreat too far, you unconsciously snag him by his metal wrist. Bucky tries to pull back, but you won’t let him.

“Buck, loving you means loving every part of you. I want to be there at your lowest so I can help pull you up. I know you would do the same for me without hesitation, so why is it different when it’s about you?”

“Because I’ve killed people! With both my hands, but especially my left. The first arm they took off me had dents on it from people trying to beat me off them, and stains from when the Winter Soldier got tired of that. I’m not meant to be coddled and comforted. That’s not what I deserve, and I’ve accepted it, so why can’t you?”

You are shocked to say the least. Not only that Buck feels that terrible, but also that you hadn’t noticed. You wanted to be there to help Bucky in any way you could, but you had been letting him down. It was time to do better.

You pull the metal palm to your lips and gently kiss the cool surface. Then you begin to travel upwards, leaving a trail of kisses behind as you went.

“I don’t see any dents,” you place a kiss on the inside of his elbow, “or stains,” and another two on his bicep. This is as far as you get before Buck rips his arm away.

“What the hell are you doing? Of course, there’s no dents or stains on this one, it’s new.”

“Exactly like you. Just because you used to be dented and stained doesn’t mean you haven’t become something newer and better. I judge you from how you treat me right now, Bucky Barnes, not how you would have treated me 30 years ago.”

Bucky pauses for a minute before looking up at you. The look he gave you was like someone had given him something he had been missing for a long time: hope. That he could be the man that he wanted to be despite his past. It would still take years for Buck to start accepting himself, but you made sure you were there for him every step of the way.

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