#he wishes to be a tool but tools can be both repaired and replaced

[energysynergymatrix]

It’s real being mad central fiction did nothing with Hibiki hours again

[nahoney22]

Hi! Your writing makes my giddy. It looks like requests are open, so if you wouldn’t mind, how about the Bad Batch (maybe plus Rex and Gregor) and if they had a significant other who is muscular, just totally jacked. SFW and gender neutral, please. Even if you don’t write it, I wish you happy days!

Strong Significant Other

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

All Bad Batch Boys + Rex and Gregor X GN!Reader

As the request asks ♥️

Warnings: none, mentions of muscular gender neutral reader. Fluff and a little mention of competitiveness.

Masterlist

A/N: thank you for the kind words and sorry for the wait! They’re a little short as my mind doesn’t like to work atm 😒 but enjoy ♥️

Echo 💪

Echo didn’t think much of it first. Obviously he saw how well-built you were especially around the arm area but it wasn’t until he witnessed you carry two heavy crates with weaponary that made his skin tingle excitedly.

He was in awe and before you got in a relationship he would admire your strength in silent admiration. He is not at all threatened that you are probably stronger than him as he adores you all the same.

Tech 💪

Tech acknowledges your strength almost immediately and sees it as a tactical tool for missions in the future. However, when things start to form between the two of you he treats you no different.

Don’t be shocked if he asks for your hand in replacement of Wrecker when it comes to heavy repairs on his ship as he loves speaking to you of them all. And at the same time, you can help rip out ship components he needs whilst you listen to him babble about whatever he desires.

Wrecker💪

Obsessed. In both a good and bad way.

When you first joined the squad he had a horrible feeling he was going to be replaced when he saw how defined your muscles were. He stayed silent for once and watched your strength in action on the battle field but when he discovers you’re not as strong as he is, he’s a little smug.

There was slight competitiveness when it came between the two of you which he started (of course) by asking if you could lift this or watch him lift that and so on. But, you mutually bonded because of it! His pride in his muscles is still at the top and he really likes having a strong partner too. It makes gym a lot more exciting too.

Hunter💪

When he first laid his eyes on the muscles in your calves and thighs, his head nearly explodes. You had both been dating for a while but for some reason it has only taken a few months to fully notice how jacked you were… and he loves it!

You were both sparring and he was a little surprised when you knocked him on his rear a good few too many times that he had reached out to grab your leg to pull you down but instead grabbed shear muscle.

“Oh, wow! Work out much?” He chuckles warmly to which you shrug playfully.

“Just a bit.”



Crosshair 💪

Now this guy is a little more complicated. He acts unbothered by your strength and defined features but he is a little jealous. He knew he was always on the leaner and slim side - still muscular but clearly not as much as you were.

He always had a snappy remark about anyone he meets but with you? No. He is in awe and when he’s scoping ahead and keeping targets off your back, he sometimes gets distracted when he sees you rip a clankers head clean off without as much as a grunt. He would smirk and nod his head approvingly. “That’s my cyare.”

Rex 💪

Truthfully, Rex did not notice how jacked you were until one day he is walking by one of the gyms on Kamino when he spots you through the window, lifting weights that he knew he definitely could not lift himself. His eyes widen in quiet surprise and he observed you for a moment too long because when you caught him staring, his cheeks caught aflame and he scampers off as if he was on a man on an important mission. But, he was very impressed with what he saw.

When the two of you get together eventually, you like to tease him about that day you caught him gawping at you to which he only replies; ‘can you blame me? You looked incredible’.

Gregor 💪

This handsome man is strictly infatuated with your body. Not only your face but your physique would send his mind whirling and sometimes he would act like an excitable pup when he sees you do something impressive.

Although he can do a lot of stuff himself, he would be his cheeky self and ask if you could ‘lift’ something for him but that’s just to see you at work and admire your strength.

He always reminds you on how lucky, amazed and bewildered by how incredible you look. On your low days, he is always there to give you lots of love and attention and would offer a massage if you’re ever feeling tense. To be fair, this man could not take his eyes and hands off of you.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁 𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙

Masterlist

Tags: @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr r @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @by-the-primes @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @a-c-lee @autumnleaves1991-blog g @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @s1st3r @buddee @taskfork-archive @greaser-wolf @lucyysthings @cosmic-persephone @imalovernotahater @crystal076 @swiftiexstarwarssimp @tinyreadersmur @agenteliix @the-good-shittt @myinnerwonderlandmind @kaminocasey @theroguesully @equalityforcats @rexandechosandwich @mustluvecho @misogirl828 @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @chxpsi @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet

[herohikara-wol]

FFXIV Write 2k23 - Day 30

Amity - Emperor AU

“You don’t have to do this if you think it’ll be hard on you.” Varis had been fussing over Hero the whole airship ride. There weren’t any proper places that he could meet with the Alliance on equal terms, ser Aymeric had offered to host both parties but Hero knew it’d come at a heavy cost to Ishgard’s relations with the other alliance members. So they chose a location away from both nations. The city of Kugane, trade hub of Hingashi and neutral ground for everyone.

“I want to see them again, I don’t want to be their enemy.” Hero couldn’t keep himself from fidgeting though; tugging at his short black hair, stray corners of his formal armor, the collar of his shirt, tapping his foot just to hear the click of his heels. He wasn’t even able to mask his anxiety and it showed. “I thought we were friends.”

Varis sighed softly, “first rule of politics, you don’t have friends. Just people whose goals align with yours. You used to be a tool they could use to solve their problems, pliant and suggestible.”

“What part of that’s changed again?” He couldn’t help but stare right into Varis’ golden eyes with a little smirk on his lips.

The older man sighed softly, “you are technically their equal now instead of a subordinate. You only answer to those you wish to answer to.”

“Right, responsibility. Disgusting.” His nerves were settling at least, “who’s brilliant idea was it to put me in charge again? I should have them shot.”

“Please don’t say that around anyone but those who know the truth, your Radiance. No one else would find it even remotely funny.”

“What if I say you’re the one who gets to shoot him?”

“Do not tempt me, Hero.” Varis finally cracked a smile of his own, “but between you and me? I’d shoot him for fun, even if you didn’t ask me to.”

Hero couldn’t help but clap his hands together and cackle, doubling over as he tried to muffle his laughter in his hands. “That’s the spirit! Okay, I needed that laugh!” He pulled himself back upright and rolled his shoulders before smiling at Varis. “Okay, let’s go to this meeting. Fingers crossed, we can find common ground once again. Once we’re no longer at war, we can really focus on repairing our provinces and trying to help the entire empire prosper.”

“You already have common ground with them, each of them if I recall. You know better than most what the Eorzean Alliance needs and we already have a list of approved concessions you can make. Remember, let them ask first and then barter down if possible. Try not to be too eager to give them what they want, just because you want peace. With luck, they want peace as well.”

“I mean, if I mention I’ve been training to fight alongside my army I’m pretty sure they’ll cave quickly. I’m an army on my own, much less backed by actual soldiers. I’d rather not meet them in battle- but I know they’d do anything to avoid trying to fight me. Apparently I’m terrifying when I stop holding back.”

“Who gave you that idea, couldn’t have been my son.”

“Asahi watched one of our duals recently. Zenos and I were using actual weapons- not the training weapons.” He paused as the dawning realization passed over Varis’ face.

“Is that why we need to replace a wall in the training room?”

“No! Kinda! Sorta- okay listen Zenos got a new sword from Yotsuyu that’s heavily levin and fire aspected and one thing led to another and we broke a wall. Well, a wall, two benches, and I’m pretty sure the guard survived the concussion. I was really quick on administering aid. He got three weeks of paid vacation for his trouble!”

Varis took a deep breath, looking skyward as his nostrils flared for a moment. “You had the captain of the guard hide this from me, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question, more an accusal.

“You know, a lot of people are way more pliant when you are both their leader and also actively bribing them with fresh baked muffins.”

“You bribed your own guard captain to keep this from me. Hero if we weren’t about to go into a meeting where I need to pretend like we are of one mind, I would be chewing you out for your behavior-”

“I’m not your son! You don’t get to dad me!”

“You are desperately trying to be my son in-law, and it seems like you only listen when I choose to behave like a disappointed father.”

“That’s not fair! I also listen when you tell me something I want to hear.”

“This conversation isn’t over, I can’t ground you, but I can certainly use the tone of voice that makes you wither and sulk until you get it into your head that you need to be more careful-” A sudden knock at the door startled the pair of them. Varis pulled himself back into his imposing stiff-backed stance while Hero smacked both his cheeks to school himself into a more neutral look. “Enter!”

One of the regional ambassadors entered, saluting the pair dutifully. “Your Radiance, High Legatus, the Alliance Members have arrived and are waiting for you in conference room Two.”

“Thank you, ambassador. We’ll be on our way in just a moment. Would you mind doing me a favor? Can you have someone bring tea and sweets? I know that our guests all have a sweet tooth or two. I want to be a good host.” Hero smiled as kindly as he could, hoping it reached his eyes as well.

“Ah- yes- of course your Radiance!” The ambassador left and Hero deflated slightly.

“Fuck, okay, I guess it’s showtime.”

“I haven’t forgotten Hero, we will continue this conversation after the parlay.” Varis grumped slightly before opening the door for Hero.

As they walked, Hero gave a soft quiet prayer to the Twelve, hoping that his friends would still be fond of him by the end of the afternoon. With luck, the goodwill he’d built with them would survive the change in circumstances. Of course, insurance wouldn’t hurt either, and he had his little black book on hand just in case.

[regular-lord-reckoner]

welp, we got scammed by a plumber today, lol

we suspected that we had a leak but our most recent ridiculous water bill confirmed that, so my mom reached out to a plumber to come out and take a look

one of the mechanisms inside the toilet on both mine and my mom's were broken so that was part of it, but there's also apparently a leak under the house as well

some guys came out to look at it and said they'd be back out to replace those parts and then get under the house and fix that one so okay, great

except when the guy shows up today he's like, "oh, the other guy actually fixed the one under the house when we were here last" which like...??? why didn't you just say that, then??

but okay, whatever, maybe it somehow slipped his mind?

in any case, our family friend went behind him today and pretty quickly realized he didn't replace any parts in the toilet at all and actually made the problem worse!!

all he did was turn the water down so that it didn't seem like it was leaking anymore so thank fuck for our friend who checked and then went to the store to get the parts and replaced them himself

he was watching him at one point but got distracted because he got an email about a job offer on his phone so he was trying to set up that interview and wasn't observing him as closely, but dude definitely just brought in pieces to supposedly replace the broken ones and yet it's still the same broken ones that are in the toilet; you can tell because they've got wear and tear damage and our family friend said that when he was looking at them in the store that the design doesn't even look like that anymore so...yeah. total shitshow.

i know at one point during both "repairs" he had to go out to his vehicle (which wasn't even a van or anything, it was a fucking mercedes sedan) to get something (and hilariously at one point he came back with a tool that was way too big for the job he was doing) so my guess is he just ditched the new parts back in his car right then and left the old ones in place and called it a fucking day assuming we wouldn't take the tank off and have a look for ourselves or that we wouldn't know the difference, i guess??

i also don't know what the fuck he did in my bathroom but my bath mat ended up soaked and he also grabbed one of my towels i had hanging up to mop up the rest and claimed it was "already there on the floor"

no the fuck it was not, but just goes to show how much of a liar this dude is (which as an aside like...you can use my towels, it's not really about that, it's just the audacity to lie like that when i know for a fact that fucker was hanging up on the door)

in any case, we've been blowing his shit up on yelp and wherever else and my mom knows people who are from where he is and would be delighted to tell everyone what a piece of shit he is and to not do business with him. i hope to god he never gets to rip another person off ever again

hilariously, their yelp page didn't have any reviews on it before today and when we mentioned that on the phone he claimed it was because he doesn't want to pay for them (as if he's sooooo honest he would never!!) but now since my mom left a review all of a sudden there's a bunch of reviews from i'm assuming his friends and family all like "great business, you guys helped a lot!!"

pretty sure you're not allowed to falsify reviews to boost your 1 star rating so i called that out in my own yelp review and now i'm not seeing those as recommended comments anymore and it's back to 1 star so...that's funny

anyway, i wish this bitch the absolute worst in life and best of fucking luck to you, dude, because if there's one thing my father couldn't stand in this world it was men who do shit like that.

and i know my dad's up to some shit in the afterlife as well because our family friend had some family he hasn't talked to in over a decade reach out to him out of the blue and it's been a really positive and good thing for him and it's just like...what are the chances, y'know? (and it wasn't like, "oh hey, man, haven't talked to you in a while!" it was like...a door that had closed that he never thought would open again and now it's just...wide open! thanks, dad :3)

a lot of good things have been happening to people he's cared about, actually, so i just cannot wait for this dude and his scam of a business go down in flames

makes me sick to my fucking stomach to think of how many people he's probably taken advantage of and who just didn't know any better. that trick he pulled on us probably would have worked until it inevitably got worse but that could take a while and by then we wouldn't automatically assume it was him but rather just our rotten luck, y'know? just absolutely despicable.

[bronsautracks]

I just wanna talk about bipolar disorder and how it’s affected my life, but I don’t fit in to any community specific to it, because I don’t have the disorder, but I did too much research and subscribe to too much romanticism (not of the disorder, but in general and as it applies to my life) to hold onto the bitterness and resentment levels that spurned lovers and family members trend towards in isolated communities.

My partner is too good. Too kind. Too understanding. Too reasonable. Despite being born halfway across the world, we grew up together, both as children and again, as a couple. How did everything in life line up so perfectly for us, so that every huge life-choice was made without so much as deliberation (don’t say mania okay, the thought did cross my mind once or twice) if it wasn’t meant to be? Meeting as kids, becoming close friends, then losing each other for years, only to meet again, and again? His family said we were written in the stars. I had never thought about it before, but it felt that way more and more.

By no means perfect, but random little actions led him back to me, even when I had no control, no influence. Even when I thought psychosis would steal his presence, or worse, his life. Back in my arms, safe in our home.

How can I be angry? How can I not forgive? The love for him and our family is what dragged me from the depths of my own mental illness. I know what it is to be told I’m in control of what I do and it’s up to me to maintain my own mindset, when I didn’t have the tools. I know what it is to cling to fraying threads of reality, lost in pits of dissociation and self-recrimination.

I tried to find camaraderie in the sharing of thoughts with others who have experienced a partner’s sudden mania and psychosis, but I can’t. I can only see: “I hope they crash soon and realize they fucked up” or “buckle up, it gets worse” or “I’m so disgusted by them” so many times before I get angry.

How can you claim love for someone and wish that on them? The psychosis that accompanies depression is just as harmful. And worse, because it’s quiet. And worse, because their brain is telling them you’d be better off without and you are just confirming that fear by preferring the quiet and pliant (sometimes it’s not pliant) depressive episode to the obvious and erratic mania. The episode that makes them slowly disappear is easier to handle than the episode that makes them vanish and reappear sporadically.

When my spouse came home from hospitalization, the need to speak my own truths warred inside me for weeks against the need for peace in my home. They couldn’t remember anything. They weren’t stable by a long shot and I wasn’t prepared for the work that went into repairing our family.

It wasn’t a full demo from the ground up, and that was the hard part. Rebuilding from scratch is much easier than walking through your home, day after day, a place you’ve always felt safe, and one day falling through the floor you thought had been renovated. Finding a leaking pipe as you crawl back to the surface, only to be told the whole system is faulty and you’ll have to tear down walls and pillars to fix it. And the new system is incompatible with your appliances, so you’ll have to replace them all.

This was what it felt like, healing our relationship. Nonlinear. Riddled with obstacles, and new ones popping up amidst the constant resurfacing trauma we both suffered.

They were my home. My stability. My security. And I was theirs. If they were willing to try, and doing everything they could to get help, why wouldn’t I also? Why wouldn’t I be the support when they were scrambling for a foothold? Why wouldn’t I toss down the rope from the top? As they would do for me.

In sickness and in health. I made that promise. He could have died in the midst of psychosis and when the pieces came together of where he’d been, I can only imagine it was closer than I thought at the time.

It was written in the stars. And they brought him back to me whole, against all odds. They brought him back to me alive, but needing help.

I didn’t want him to crash, to self-flagellate, to withdraw. I wanted him home. I wanted to repair together, but it’s so hard. And I spent so long not talking about it, because people labor under the assumption that I’m forgiving abusive behavior. That I’m setting an example of turning the other cheek in a situation of abuse.

I’m not. There are boundaries in our relationship. Boundaries that are only ever tested in moments that either of our minds are twisting out of our control. Only tested, never crossed, because the boundary is always held. But if all I ever see is a dehumanizing approach to dealing with mental illness, of course I will respond with the counterpoint of empathy. Of course I will. Not because I’m a doormat, but because I’m angry.

Angry that people would rather tear the house down, after YEARS of shelter, memories, and protection, because it turns out that house needs special maintenance due to its build. If you don’t want to stick around and make the repairs or can’t maintain a house that way, that’s valid. It’s important to know your own limits. But the house was fine. Just move somewhere else. Don’t hope for a hurricane to rip it up from the ground, so that you can feel better about holding your own boundaries.

(Disclaimer: this is about relationships with bipolar people, not about relationships with abusive people, and the frequency of that particular misunderstanding is a whole other rage button, but if you had an abusive partner who was bipolar, I’m so sorry you went through that, it must have been very hard.)

[catscraftsandcommentary]

Okay wow, that is crazy.

Fair's fair, I promised you factory drama.

So I work in for a tiny little company that makes pleated paper window shades and markets them as "no tool install!" Which means that you hang them with industrial strength double-sided tape.

- So we've got the pleaters, which are old and cranky and varying levels of pissy about their settings (from "moderately high" to "nuclear") and also varying levels of cooperative once you get the (hopefully, supposedly) "right" settings (from "perfectly" to "begrudgingly" to "as soon as the mechanic looks away, YOU'RE DEAD.")

- Then there are the tape machines (you feed the shades into them, they apply tape to the top, with sensors telling them where to start and stop taping), which are all horrible filthy gremlin children whose only purpose in life is to stuff themselves with tape boogers and paper dust and CAUSE PROBLEMS.

- And there's a pair of pistons that push shades from one conveyor belt (that runs through the tape machine) to another, wider conveyor belt where we pull the shades off and package them. The pistons are controlled by a sensor, and GOD HELP YOU if that sensor gets dusty (on line 1, it ALWAYS gets dusty) because then it will misfire and leave the pistons hanging out in the way and cause a jam.

...still better than when it was having electrical problems and spent a couple months getting slowly worse, until you couldn't go five minutes without the damn thing jamming. Luckily our senior mechanic had a spare and was able to replace it.

(We love our senior mechanic, he is made of magic and wizardry.)

Okay, so we have five lines, and the pleaters are numbered in the order the company got them, oldest to newest. They each have their own little quirks, and our mechanics try to repair away the worst of these, but then they develop new ones. It's a fun, never-ending cycle.

Number 1: she's like a retired neighbor lady who's on every committee and chairs every social group in town. She's old, and she wants things done Her Way, but by god, she will work your ass off. She only runs at 350-385 pleats/minute, and if her speed dial went any higher, I'm sure she'd want to run faster than that. (We train new cutters - people who run the paper pleaters and cut the shades - at 200-250. 320-350 is about normal everyday speed. For years, I've been BANNED from running any of the pleaters over 400.)

- 2 is a shitshow and I'll come back to her.

- 3 is cooperative ONLY if you're running the regular width paper. If you're trying to run the extra wide paper (which is terrible and everyone hates it, not just the machines), #3 will wad absolutely everything and then sulk. This is a problem, because 2, 3, and 4 are the only machines which can run the extra wide paper (1 and 5 are smaller), and 2 and 4 are both needed to run the single packages that we do everyday, so #3 needs to be able to run the extra wide paper when we need value packs. But NOOOOOOO, 3 says "fuck your paper." Also, 3 wants to run at the approximate speed of greased lightning ALL THE TIME, and if you can't keep up, that's just too bad.

- #4 is a good bean who likes all the paper, isn't *terribly* picky about speed or settings, and is generally a joy to work with. Her speed dial reads a little different than everyone else's (570-620 for the same speed range), but that is a SMALL price to pay.

- 5 used to be called the Cadillac. Four years ago, when I started working there. It used to run smooth as glass, at any speed, from 200 to 500, with no hitches or hiccups even if you changed the speed in huge jumps.

Then it went through puberty.

Now, 5 is a surly bastard with shrieking brakes, who runs at 280-300 (330 on a *GOOD* day), who broke her pleater drum THREE TIMES in as many months. I wish I was joking. They never should have parked her next to #2 last time they rearranged the factory, that was a BAD IDEA...

Speaking of #2...

That Godawful, Horrible, Motherfucking Bitch and her Legendary Amounts of Chaos

- she is the most psychotically over-sensitive machine in the entire factory. In the city. Possibly the state. One tiny, invisible, microscopic change in her environment, and she flips out. And ruins all her paper.

- her speed dial used to be so sensitive that you would BARELY TOUCH IT and it would fly 30 +/- whatever speed you WERE going

- at the same time, if you changed her speed by more than 10, she would instantly wad all her paper

- if you did not grab her paper from EXACTLY the same spot on the table EVERY time (thus keeping the amount of paper very very constant)...anger. Ruined paper. 10+ minutes of coaxing her into cooperating. AGAIN.

- the one time a trainee mechanic was stupid enough to drop a roll of paper (they weigh over 1,000 lbs) too close to her and it ROLLED INTO HER, OH GODS she *immediately* lost her shit and it took 40 minutes and both mechanics to calm her down.

- when Jose (then our head mechanic, now retired) took a few weeks off (he's one of the VERY FEW people this pleater actually LIKES), she FLIPPED. HER. SHIT. And did this.

Girl, your paper does NOT go on the floor, cut that shit out. (I was cutting that day, and I remember FREAKING OUT because all the paper just suddenly...disappeared...wtf... Yeah, we had to call Jose to consult on that one.)

- if she doesn't like you, she'll eat her paper...AKA feed it in the wrong away so it gets jammed underneath her and you have to meticulously pick it out before you can start over.

- she spent more than a year with a warning sign, because it was easier than trying to fix her

(Meaning "you WILL load her paper so it feeds from the BOTTOM of the roll, not the top of the roll, or so help you god, she will ruin everything you love and then you'll end up fixing her paper anyway." Ask me how I know.)

- one time the mechanics rebuilt her because she'd been having problems, and she ran WORSE. They tried absolutely everything for several months, but finally had to rebuild her a SECOND time.

- when Jose finally retired and moved away, #2 waited about three months for him to come back and then ATE A MECHANIC. (Okay, technically she just chewed up his fingers a little, but he needed surgery and PT and three weeks of worker's comp. He does still have all his fingers - and can use them - so good job surgeons!)

It was on a Friday night, the last shift before Halloween, and she ran better after he bled on her. I wish I was making this up, none of us want to work with Stephen King.

- these days, the head mechanic has to come in early and start her running *special* just to make sure that she's pleating the way she should. She also refuses to run below about 380-390 (which is fast but manageable).

- the one night my shift (night shift) had to run her, we didn't have the head mechanic there because it was THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING NIGHT, HE'S ASLEEP AT HOME, so she refused to run below 500. Like a BITCH.

- when he finally came in, he was like "what speed are you running that at?!?" And I (because I'm the only one fast enough to *almost* keep up with her at that speed) answered "500 🙃🙃🙃 we can't get her to go any slower or she messes up." "We usually run it at 380. Which is still fast, but. Here." And two minutes later, she's purring along at 380, no problems.

So yeah. The pleaters are crazy.

Love small town drama. The Starbuck's near me closes down early because they can't keep staff (local dude keeps saying 'its because they unionized frowny face' and I'm like... if the manager is a piece of shite then the union didn't cause the walk-out, darlin') and someone was asking the facebook group where to get a cup of coffee.

Someone said, emphatically, 'Don't go to (local joint.)'

Local joint in question being very much a queer positive environment and specifically where all the queers hang out.

'Ok, why?'

'Neither me nor my friends go there and haven't since 2020 because they asked me to keep my mask on while all the other restaurants had lifted the mask rules and that was the final straw.'

... well.

....makes me wonder what the other straws were.

[jungshookz]

maybe, she can drive his car; mechanic!yoongi

➺ pairing; mechanic!yoongi x spoiledbrat!y/n

➺ genre; mechanic!yoongiverse!! sfw!! honk honk humour!! some suggestive behaviour because this is mechanic!yoongi and his y/n we're talking about!! the green-eyed monster inside of y/n is awoken after being dormant for so long and she's ready to bite some heads off

➺ wordcount; 11.6k

➺ summary; yoongi's ex is back in town for a visit and you'd be lying if you said you weren't slightly envious of a) how knowledgeable she is about stupid cars and b) how well she gets along with literally everyone.

➺ what to expect; "right, about that- i know i was supposed to come over for dinner tonight but- listen, i don't know what lisa did but obviously she's got a lot of connections now and the shop has literally never been this busy before... you understand, don't you?"

➺ currently spinning on the record player; mustang sally (originally by wilson pickett, covered by andrew strong)

(unfortunately i wasn’t able to track down the original maker of this gif but this is where i sourced it from! all credits go to the original creator of course :-))

»»————- 🛠️ ————-««

namjoon usually doesn't pay too much attention to you whenever you're hanging out at the workshop with everyone because of how often you're here, but there's something about the way you're acting today that even he has to admit is oddly very...

cute?

and it's not that you're not cute all the time (because you totally are!!) but it's just that the version of you today in particular is suddenly making him want to go off and find a y/n of his own

"whatcha doing?"

namjoon jolts in surprise when a grimy hand suddenly burrows itself into the warm bag of freshly-popped popcorn that he has cradled to his chest and he scowls before turning his body away slightly

"hey, you're contaminating the popcorn, man-" he huffs, quickly grabbing the mega-sized pack of hand wipes from the desk before plopping it down on the countertop for jungkook, "at least have the decency to wipe your hands before digging into my popcorn- also, i'm watching. duh."

"watching?" jungkook frowns as he sloppily wipes his hands on the front of his shirt, turning to look out the open door, "watching what?"

"yoongi and y/n." namjoon hums, popping a couple of kernels into his mouth with a crunch, "she's been following him around like a little duckling all day."

"mm." jungkook props an elbow up on the counter as he looks towards the two of you before clicking his tongue, "...he must've really given it to her good last night if she's acting like that-"

"okay, now you've ruined the moment-" namjoon frowns, his shoulders dropping slightly before he gestures to you guys, "it's sweet! this is obviously a wholesome thing-"

"call it what you want, but all i'm trying to say is that good sex makes you do crazy things-" jungkook snorts before aggressively shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth, "cravy phings."

"i'd like to argue that good sex forms a strong emotional bond which explains why there are cartoon hearts currently floating around y/n's head-" namjoon perks up when he notices the way your eyes light up at something yoongi says, "look at her! look at the way she's looking at him!"

"oh, please." jungkook tuts, "that dopey look on her face is telling me that the only thing on her mind is yoongi bending her over the hood of that car and just ramming-"

"namjoon and jungkook are arguing again." you point out, turning to look towards the office just in time to see namjoon throw a handful of popcorn at jungkook only for him to open his mouth and chomp wildly at the air to get some into his mouth

"jungkook probably said something stupid, as per usual." yoongi snorts, leaning over to lock the hood of the car into place before pulling away and taking a look at the situation, "now, let's see what we have going on here..."

when namjoon told him that this was a brake master cylinder repair he immediately felt all the excitement leave his body

he hates doing brake master cylinder repairs

all the parts are so small and the handiwork is super tedious anD the last time he did one of these he took like four hours to get it done

overall it's a pretty boring repair job and as much as he wants to pass it off to one of the others to do, he knows that he's the most skilled with the internal mechanics of a car compared to everyone else which he usually likes to brag about but today he wishes that that wasn't the case

"so what do you have to do?" you frown, stepping over so that you're standing by the side of the car and you're not in yoongi's way, "all the thingies look fine to me."

"well, i actually need to replace the brake master cylinder thingy." yoongi teases, smiling lightly as he points at some kind of container, "there's a leak in the seals, which is pretty common since they wear out after a few years. it should be an easy fix! it'll just take a while, that's all."

luckily, taehyung already took care of the messy part and emptied the fluid from the reservoir for him so now it's time to start the actual repair process

"so does beeper have one of these cylinders in him?" you ask, tilting your head in curiosity

you've never actually taken a look at beeper's under the hood situation before so you wouldn't know

(it feels like he's all naked and exposed whenever yoongi lifts his hood up and you just want to give beeper some privacy, that's all.)

"if beeper didn't have one of these cylinders in him, you wouldn't be able to brake, silly." yoongi snorts, reaching down to unclip the sensor from the reservoir, "see, when you push down on the brake, it pushes a piston through the cylinder and forces hydraulic fluid through the brake lines, which goes to the slave cylinders of each wheel, and then-" he pauses when he notices you've gone all quiet and he turns to see you staring directly at him with a dopey little smile on your face "-what? what'd i say?"

"i like it when you talk shop to me." you giggle quietly, "i mean, i don't understand 98% of the words that come out of your mouth when you do, but i still like it a lot-"

"yeah?" yoongi teases, taking a hand off the edge of the car so he can gesture for you to come closer (and you do, obviously), "you like it when i talk to you about... hm, i don't know..." he feigns cluelessness as he stands up to slink an arm around your waist and bring you towards him while your arms automatically hang loosely around his neck, "how the rubbing of the brake pad against the brake disc generates friction..." he lowers his voice as he sits lightly on the edge of the car and gives your hips a squeeze

"mm, tell me more..." you play along, letting yoongi pull you closer so that you're settled nicely in between his legs

"i don't know, maybe i should save all the good stuff for the bedroom..."

you resist the urge to immediately start whining when you lean in only for yoongi to dodge your kiss, "hey, i like you in these baggy overalls, by the way." he suddenly changes the subject and you feel your cheeks flush when both his hands slide in through the gaps until he's able to grip your bum, "big, big fan of them-"

"you- namjoon and jungkook are right there-" you gawk, "at least have the decency to turn me around so they don't see you fully groping me-"

"they can always just close their eyes or something-"

"okay, you two, break it up-!" you hear namjoon's claps echoing from the office as he tries to get your attention and you immediately turn to look at him with a grin, "god, it's like you sick freaks want to rub it in our faces-"

"okay, i have to get to work so why don't you go and hang out with namjoon in the office?" yoongi stands up, being careful not to hit the top of his head on the hood, "he'll let you play chess on the computer if you ask nicely."

"i thought i was helping you out today!" you frown, grabbing onto his hand before waving it back and forth, "you said i did a good job handing you the tools and stuff. i'm getting better at not mixing all the different types of screwdrivers up!"

yoongi can't help but laugh at how needy you're being and he reaches up with his free hand to adjust his bandana

"i know you wanna help, but i promise you there's nothing exciting about repairing a master cylinder." he hums, reaching up to pinch your cheek playfully, "plus, don't you still have a huge research paper to work on?"

"yeah, but i'd much rather hang out with you..." you pout, yoongi cooing before leaning in to give your pushed-out bottom lip a little kiss

"we can hang out when we're both done with work."

"okay..." you purse your lips before letting go of his hand, "it's your loss. i'm a fantastic helper."

"mhm, you certainly are-" yoongi spins you around before pushing his palm against your lower back to get you to move, "now go and bug namjoon!"

you turn back to glance at yoongi one last time and he sweeps his hands at you to tell you to gO

fine!

it was getting hot in the garage anyway and namjoon always has the aircon blasting in the office

"sorry! only sad, single people are allowed in this area-" namjoon jokes as soon as you step in, gesturing to the office space with a grin, "leave or i'll have security escort you out."

"oh, stop it." you giggle, folding your arms up on the counter and leaning forward, "i keep telling you i'd be more than happy to set you up with one of my friends!!"

"i know, and that's very nice of you to offer, but i just want to find someone organically, you know?" namjoon sighs, leaning back against his chair before looking up at the ceiling wistfully, "being set up with someone doesn't feel like a natural process."

"namjoon thinks he's the main character of a shitty netflix romantic comedy." jungkook mutters, the two of you exchanging low giggles with each other

"well, if no one comes into your life organically you can always let me know and i'll- woah-" you jump in surprise when the sound of a roaring engine suddenly shatters the peaceful atmosphere and you turn around just in time to see a sleek car veering into the shop

you wince and raise a hand to shield your eyes from the bright headlights and you don't get a chance to make the first comment because jungkook beats you to it

(for the record, you were going to talk about how dramatic of an entrance whatever that was)

"oh my god. that is the sexiest car i've ever seen in my entire life." he breathes out, stepping away from the counter so he can stand by the door and get a closer look, "a 1965 mustang. nice."

"fun fact: i was actually thinking about getting a vintage mustang! i wanted an olive green one because i could've named her 'olive' which is super cute-" you nod enthusiastically, looking back and forth between namjoon and jungkook only for them to.,., completely ignore you and continue staring at the glossy mustang sitting out front

"okay, you guys, it's just a car-" you roll your eyes and let out a little snort of disbelief, "this isn't going to change your life or anything-"

a high-heel clad foot steps out of the car and onto the pavement and you immediately recognize the classic red-bottom louboutins

you actually own a pair of them as well but you rarely wear them out because you're always paranoid that you're going to topple over and snap an ankle and that would be completely mortifying

they're six inches tall!!!!

for the record, they look very nice sitting (collecting dust) on your shelf but now you're starting to think that it might be a good idea to wear them out again because this stranger makes it look like walking in them is easy breezy beautiful

"holy shit. is that lisa?" namjoon murmurs, reaching up to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "oh, wow. she..."

"i don't remember her looking like that the last time we saw her." jungkook whistles lowly, "hello, miss manoban."

"lisa- who's lisa?" you frown, tilting your head in curiosity as you watch this mysterious lisa toss her oversized sunglasses into the front seat of the car before slamming the door shut

"uh, she's just one of yoongi's exes- she actually used to work here but-" namjoon reaches over the counter so he can nudge you aside gently to get a better look, "when did she get a vintage mustang?!"

lisa leans down to look at herself in the side mirror, smearing some red lipstick over her pillowy bottom lip before rubbing her lips together and nodding satisfactorily

"guess her car-wrapping business really took off." jungkook hums, his eyes glued to the car

she seems to be moving in slow motion as she takes her hair down and shakes her head back and forth, the three of you tilting your heads at the same time as you watch her in awe

"car-wrapping?" you ask curiously, "she must spend a fortune on wrapping paper and giant bows-"

"no, obviously it's not actual wrapping- like-" jungkook huffs and you resist the urge to bop him over the head at how snappy he's being with you when he already knows you're clueless when it comes to this kind of stuff, "okay, you know how you said that if you ever got a g-wagon for yourself one day that you wanted to make it baby blue just like beeper and also matte? lisa could do that for you."

"oh! in that case, it might be nice to get a business card from her or something-" you make a mental note before shaking your head and turning back around to face namjoon, "hey, so, super casual, can we round back to the whole 'yoongi's ex' thing real quickly because i-"

"yoohoo, boys!" lisa whistles, grinning excitedly when she's suddenly joined by everyone outside one by one, "what, no one thought to roll out the red carpet for me?"

"c'mon, namjoon! let's go say hi to lisa and her vintage 'stang!!" jungkook grins, gesturing for namjoon to hurry before he's darting out the door, "lisa, hey!"

"yeah, okay!!" namjoon gets up from his seat so quickly that he sends his chair rolling back and smacking against the file cabinets, "oh, y/n-! if anyone calls, just send them straight to voicemail-"

"but i-" you don't get a chance to say anything before namjoon's brushing past you and dashing out the door as well

you don't know too much about lisa but obviously she's a pretty big deal around here

it'd probably be good for you to go and introduce yourself instead of awkwardly hanging out in the office by yourself

"hello, lisa. it's very nice to meet you. firm handshake." you mutter to yourself as you step out of the office and head towards the bustling group of boys, "hey, lisa! so great to meet you. firm handshake. hi, girlie-! nope, don't like that one-"

"-in town for business so i thought it'd be nice to swing by and visit my boys." you manage to catch the end of lisa's sentences as you join the boys, trying not to make any sudden movements to catch her attention

"you should've texted one of us or something!" namjoon pulls his phone out of his back pocket, "we could've ordered a pizza for lunch-"

you reach over to give the back of yoongi's jumpsuit a little tug just to get his attention and he glances over his shoulder at you before offering you a teasing smile and reaching back to wiggle his fingers against your stomach

you giggle lightly before swatting his hand away and he turns back to look at lisa

"well, i wanted to surprise you guys!" lisa chirps, tucking her clutch underneath her armpit before clapping her hands together, "i see nothing's changed around here... except for..." you feel your heart drop when she suddenly leans over and looks directly at you, "hello! i don't think we've ever met."

"oh, shoot- sorry, i should've introduced you sooner-" yoongi steps aside so that he isn't blocking you, "lisa, this is y/n! y/n, this is lisa." he smiles, gesturing towards lisa, "my girlfriend." he pauses and quickly shakes his head at his little flub-up, "i mean- lisa, this is y/n, my girlfriend-"

"he's definitely gonna pay for that later." jimin mutters, jungkook snickering before nudging at his side to get him to shut up

"it's super nice to meet you, y/n!" lisa doesn't acknowledge yoongi's error and she steps forward to get closer to you

she's practically towering over you but it's really just because of the stilettos

she turns her head to look at the boys and a second of silence goes by before they realize what she's asking of them and they all scatter in different directions

you give yoongi a look that basically screams S.O.S. and you resist the urge to burst into tears when he gives you a cheery thumbs up in return and trots off to go and do something else

okay

you'll be fine

you have nothing to be nervous about!

this is just yoongi's very hot ex who looks like a million bucks while you'e currently dressed like a giant toddler

it doesn't help that you're wearing what's commonly known as a 'baby tee' under these overalls

"you- yeah, you too-" you chuckle uneasily, giving her a weak handshake before pulling away with a smile, "i'm sorry, i'm a little underdressed-" you pause to gesture to the grubby overalls you have on, "i promise i look better than this most of the time..."

"oh, don't be silly. i just grabbed the first outfit i saw out of my suitcase and threw it on-" she sighs, reaching up to pick some lint off her blazer that you're pretty sure you saw in the most recent YSL spring catalog (in fact, you're pretty sure it's on your to-buy list), "so, what do you do?"

"me? i- uh, well, nothing, at the moment- i'm still studying for my undergraduate degree, so..." you shrug sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck

for some reason you can't seem to maintain eye contact with her for more than three seconds at a time

"oh! you're still in school?"

"yeah, i- well, i'm graduating this year, so i'm almost out of school if you think about it that way- but yes. yes, i... am currently a university student, so that's what i'm doing."

"mm, cute! what are you studying?"

"history! i'm a history major and a marine biology minor." you nod, "so... the cold war and... like, sharks. something like that."

"ah, very cool."

to be honest you're not entirely sure if lisa's being sincere or not but you'll take the compliment either way

you can tell she's trying to scope you out - which is fair, because this is the first time you two are meeting and you're currently involved with someone she used to be involved with

"i'm sorry. i'm probably, like, freaking you out right now, aren't i?" lisa snorts, reaching out and placing her hand on your forearm for a split second, "i promise i'm just genuinely curious and i'm not trying to, like, interrogate you or anything. it's super nice to meet you! and honestly- i love the overalls. the little knee patches are adorable."

"oh, thank you..." you smile nervously, reaching down to glance at the mismatched patches of fabric sewn onto the knees of your overalls, "yoongi actually sewed 'em on for me! i usually wear this whenever i'm here because i'm okay with getting it dirty- i, um, i like your blazer! and your heels. and your purse- a chanel clutch is a classic!"

"ooh, someone has an eye for fashion..." lisa winks, raising her clutch and waving it slightly, "maybe after i'm done talking business with yoongi we can talk about gucci's new multicolour line-"

"oh, i have so many thoughts on gucci's new multicolour line!" you gasp, suddenly reignited with a spurt of energy, "honestly the colour scheme is very stabilo highlighters to me but we can talk about it later- i'll just be hanging out in the office, so you can find me there whenever you're ready-"

"perfect!" lisa gives you a thumbs up before pointing over to where yoongi is, "if you'll excuse me, i have to go and talk about boring things with yoongi-"

"mhm!" you watch with a smile as lisa click-clacks off towards yoongi before you spin around on your heels, giving yourself a mental pat on the back for how well you handled that interaction

lisa's actually nicer than you thought she'd be!

obviously the saying don't judge a book by its cover is very applicable here

"so... what'd you think of lisa?" namjoon joins your side before nudging you gently, "she's nice, right?"

"i like her! she seems really cool." you nod enthusiastically, pausing to glance over your shoulder to look at her from behind, "i need to ask her for tips on walking in those louboutins and how not to fall over."

"you know, i must say i'm pleasantly surprised at how you're handling this." namjoon snorts, holding back for a second to let you into the office first before he steps in behind you, "colour me impressed!"

"thank you!" you reach over to pull the lollipop jar towards you before suddenly pausing and looking back over at namjoon with a frown, "hold on a sec, what's that supposed to mean?"

"hm? oh, it's nothing." namjoon scrunches his nose, dismissing you with a flick of his wrist as he takes his seat behind the counter, "i just know that if i was in your shoes and my significant other's very attractive and very successful ex came back i would be a little antsy about it-" namjoon glances up from the computer and his eyes widen in panic when he notices that your eyes have widened in panic, "i- i mean- not that you're not very attractive and very successful- what i'm trying to say is that you have nothing to worry- you and yoongi seem like a very stable couple so-"

"do you think maybe you could tell me a bit about yoongi and lisa?" you interrupt his spiral and you feel yourself starting to get a little fidgety, "because i- i actually don't know anything about that situation-"

namjoon has a point, now that you think about it

lisa is very successful and very attractive and can walk in high heels very elegantly

and what about you?

yesterday you submitted a paper one minute before the deadline because of how much procrastinating you had done

and you haven't worn heels in forever because they just hurt so much

but lisa wouldn't complain about her feet hurting in high heels

lisa could have a hundred blisters and still walk into the room with a beautiful, red-lipped smile

"has he never told you about her?" namjoon frowns, "i feel like every couple should at least have one conversation about their past relationships."

"i think he tried to one time, but i- i dunno, you can't blame me for not wanting to sit there and listen to yoongi talking about all the girls he's been with, so i just changed the subject..." you mutter, pushing the jar away from you after pulling a strawberry lollipop out, "kind of regretting that decision now."

it's not like you have a reason to be insecure or anything, right?

your relationship with yoongi is very solid and there are certainly no trust issues or communication issues or anything of the sort

...

but he is your first boyfriend...,., and this is your first serious relationship which means you've had no prior experiences to learn from which means you're just going with the flow most of the time.,., so is it possible that you're being a little naïve right now?

"still, i don't think me telling you all the details of their relationship is a good idea because i feel like this is a conversation you should be having with yoongi-" namjoon chuckles nervously, leaning back against his chair before tucking a pencil behind his ear, "sorry, kiddo. i'm not trying to stir the pot here."

"i- oh, c'mon, joon- what's it gonna take, huh?" you reach into the front pocket of your overalls before subtly flashing a folded up hundred dollar bill, pursing your lips slightly as your eyes flicker back and forth between namjoon and your chest-money, "hm??"

"first of all, it's very concerning to me that you stash loose cash in your pocket like that. second of all, are you really trying to bribe me into telling you about yoongi and lisa?" namjoon asks incredulously

"what?! no!" you scoff, tucking the bill back into your pocket before pausing and raising an eyebrow, "...is it working?"

"no! in fact, i find it offensive that you think i'd be so easily swayed-"

"the next time i bring sushi for lunch, i'll get you your own mango shrimp tempura roll." you offer, namjoon staring at you blankly before he suddenly springs into action

"so, they used to sleep together, obviously." he clears his throat, "when lisa started working here, i kind of expected her to get involved with one of us and unsurprisingly it was yoongi, because... well, it's yoongi- i'm pretty sure it was a friends with benefits kind of thing because i remember asking him about it and he said they didn't want to put a label on it? and then at one point jimin asked lisa about it because all of us were super curious and she called it a 'situationship'... which, personally, i think is a pretty cheesy label- i dunno, they'd go out to dinners sometimes and occasionally they'd come into work together in the morning because- well, you know- uh, they were in this 'situationship' for... maybe, like, eight months? and then lisa got an opportunity to work elsewhere and she took it and they decided to call it off and fast forward to now... here we are!" namjoon claps his hands together before pressing his palm over his heart, "and i promise you that's all the information i have- well, maybe this piece of information might be useful to you: they were, like, super horny for each other all the time. like, almost outrageously horny, which i think is one of the downfalls of the relationship because you can't base a solid relationship off of animalistic sex, right? ooh, there was one time i caught them in yoongi's office and lisa was-"

"okay, i think that's enough-!" you hold a hand out to shut namjoon up and he shrugs before leaning back against his chair, "more than enough, actually-"

you weren't expecting to learn about the raw, animalistic sex yoongi had with lisa, but then again, you weren't expecting to even meet lisa at all

oh, god

should you be nervous??

you shouldn't be nervous, right??

...yeah, you're being ridiculous!

yoongi has been with other girls before and that shouldn't bother you because you didn't exist then

this has nothing to do with you!

so what if he bent her over the office table and-

okay, maybe it's time to stop thinking about this because the point is: you're fine. don't worry. everything is normal. yoongi is your boyfriend. lisa is his ex. everything is great!

"by the way, i want you to know that you honestly have nothing to worry about." namjoon suddenly chimes in as if he can read your mind, "lisa was yoongi's past but you are his present and most likely his future as well, so- seriously, don't even worry about it."

"yeah, you're right. it'd be silly of me to be upset about yoongi being with someone else when i wasn't even in the picture yet." you snort, reaching up to smack your own forehead gently, "okay! i'm feeling a little better. it would've been nice to not be informed about how horny they were for each other, but thank you for that detail-"

"yo, where are the snap ring pliers from my toolbox?" you turn just in time to see yoongi pop his head in, "i can't find them anywhere... i swear to god, everyone keeps borrowing my tools and 'forgetting' to put them back-" he rolls his eyes before looking over at you with a smile, "hi, baby-"

"hi yoongi-" you giggle, all your doubts and insecurities immediately fluttering away

see? nothing to worry about!

phEw

it feels like a weight's been lifted off your shoulders

"i think hoseok might've been using them earlier this morning." namjoon hums, "what do you need them for?"

"oh, lisa offered to help me out with the master cylinder repair and she needs 'em." yoongi points back over his shoulder, "you know how great she is with her hands-"

"woah, i thought-" your voice cracks slightly and you clear your throat, "i thought, uh- you were working on it yourself? like, i thought you didn't need any help and that's why i'm in here-"

"oh, i don't, but- well, lisa's good with fine-tuning so i might as well take advantage of her expertise while she's here." yoongi snorts before looking back over at namjoon, "you said hoseok had them?"

"yep!"

you bite down on your tongue to keep yourself from commenting any further

it's fine!

as we've already established, you have nothing to worry about.

...right?

»»————- 🛠️ ————-««

"and... voilà!" you smile satisfactorily to yourself after you set the scented candle down on the coffee table

the living room is going to smell like warm brown sugar and cinnamon in a few minutes and you can't wait

this is yoongi's favourite candle so you hope he'll be excited about that when he gets here :'))

you've been preparing the apartment for his arrival and lighting the candle was one of the last things on your to-do list

you still have to order dinner for tonight and you've always been awful at making decisions so you figured it'd be best to let yoongi choose instead

you haven't seen him for about a week and a half because of finals (and, being perfectly honest, you were the one who implemented this distancing rule in the first place because you know you won't be able to focus on studying when yoongi's in the apartment with you) so you're pretty pumped for tonight!!

you hum to yourself as you click on yoongi's phone number in your contacts, flopping back on the couch with a fwump! while your legs swing lazily over the arm

"hello?"

the phone picks up after a couple of rings and it takes you a second to realize that the voice on the other end certainly does not belong to your boyfriend

"he-" you pause, pulling your phone away from your ear and frowning at the unfamiliar voice before bringing it back, "um, hello?"

"hi! who's this?"

"who's this?" you point to yourself before scoffing lightly, "what do you mean who- who's this?"

"oh- oh, y/n! hey, it's lisa!" lisa greets enthusiastically and you relax a little knowing that it's just lisa, "sorry, i didn't look at the contact name before picking up- what's up?"

"well, i-" you pause again to recollect your thoughts, "um, sorry, i guess i was just expecting yoongi to pick up his own phone so i'm a little lost right now-"

"oh my gosh, don't even worry about it! yoongi's hands are super gross right now so i offered to take his call for him which is why i picked up the phone. is there something you wanted me to pass along to him?"

"yeah, you could pass his phone right along to him-" you joke before reminding yourself to keep the unnecessary cattiness to a minimum, "yeah, um- can you ask him what time he's coming over? so that i know what time to order our food and stuff? i want the food to still be nice and hot by the time he gets here, so i just need a time from him, that's all-"

"yeah, about that... i actually don't think yoongi's going to make it for dinner."

"i-" you frown, pushing yourself up so that you're leaning back against an elbow, "what? why not?"

"the thing is, i hooked him up with a bunch of clients so the poor thing's been working like a dog all day and it looks like he's going to be stuck here for a while... if you're worried about him skipping dinner, i can totally go and get some food for him if you want! there's this sandwich place a block away and i know what he likes-"

your eyes widen slightly at how... happy? lisa sounds about the fact that yoongi potentially won't be joining you for dinner and you nod to yourself as you clench your jaw

"that's- that's very kind of you, lisa-" your voice is a little pitchier than usual at this point and you clear your throat obnoxiously, "i'm sorry, i just really have to talk to yoongi for a second so if you could just, like, hold the phone up to his ear that would be okay too-"

"okay! gimme a sec." there's a bit of shuffling on the other end and you press your lips together as you wait (im)patiently, "yoongs! it's y/n... dinner... hot food... her place... clients... pretty busy tonight..."

and she even has a nickname for him

that's just downright adorable, isn't it?

"god, just give him the damn phone." you mutter under your breath, raising your other hand to inspect your cuticles as you lie back down on the couch

hm

you should probably schedule another manicure soon

"-it's okay, i can hold the phone myself- y/n?" you perk up when you hear yoongi on the other end and you can't help but kick your legs in excitement

you can't help it!!!

you haven't heard his voice in a whole week and a half!!!

"greetings, yoongs." you tease, "what time are you going to be here?" you bypass lisa's whole monologue about yoongi probably not being able to come over tonight in hopes that she'll be wrong about him ditching you to continue working, "i wanna order the food so it'll get here a little before you arrive. also, i haven't chosen what we're going to eat tonight so you're going to have to choose for us-"

"right, about that-" yoongi clears his throat, "i know i was supposed to come over for dinner tonight but- listen, i don't know what lisa did but obviously she's got a lot of connections now and the shop has literally never been this busy before..." he pauses and you hear the sound of loud clanging in the background, "you understand, don't you?"

it takes you a couple of seconds to process the fact that yoongi really won't be coming over tonight and you puff your cheeks out to keep yourself from immediately whining in protest

to say the least, you are.,.,,. very disappointed,.., but!! it won't be the end of the world, right?

you hate that lisa was right, but that's a conversation you can have with yourself another time

and if yoongi won't be here, that means you can hog all the garlic cheesy bread to yourself so maybe this is a blessing in disguise >:-)

"no, yeah, i- yeah, get it!" you nod, "i love that business is booming, i just don't love that you didn't text me or call me earlier to let me know you weren't going to come over tonight," you frown, turning your head to look at the flickering candle, "a heads up would've been nice, that's all..."

"i asked lisa to text you earlier when my hands were full... sorry, she must've forgot..."

"oh. yeah, i guess it could've slipped her mind." you respond dryly, "it would've taken, like, five seconds to text me-"

"okay, i-" you hear yoongi let out a small sigh before he speaks up again, "i'm sorry, baby, i really am- do you- i can come over now if you want me t-"

"no, it's okay! i'm sorry, i'm just-" you shake your head quickly before chuckling uneasily, "i just haven't seen you in a while so i miss you, that's all- but i'll let you get back to work now and i'll see you later?"

"yes! you are the best, you really are- look, i promise i'll be all yours as soon as i-"

"yoongi! these tires aren't going to change themselves, silly-"

"oh, c'mon-" you grumble, your teeth grinding slightly at the interruption of lisa's peppy voice in the background

"uh- yeah, in a sec-! i gotta go, doll- i'll call you later-"

"okay, b-" you don't get a chance to even say goodbye before the line goes dead and the only thing you can hear is an obnoxious beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep- "-ye."

»»————- 🛠️ ————-««

one of your goals for the new year was to try your best to not hold a grudge

admittedly, holding grudges is one of your specialties so it's been a little bit difficult but you think you've been doing an okay job so far!

like that time jungkook accidentally drowned you with dirty car water because he didn't see you and also he had headphones on so he couldn't hear you

you were ready to strangle him right then and there but you just took a deep breath and reminded yourself that *~deep-cleaning services exist~*

and sure, you were a little upset that yoongi couldn't make it for dinner the other night and that the two of you haven't really had a chance to have a moment alone because of how swamped he's been with work, but... well, the past is in the past and challenges like this are good for your personal growth!

plus, it's the start of a new week so you're just going to focus on the present

you try your best to keep your footsteps as quiet as possible as you approach a preoccupied yoongi from behind

he's currently sorting out all the things to do on his giant whiteboard (you bought this for the boys because you thought it'd be a good way to organize all their tasks and unsurprisingly, namjoon was the most excited about it)

"guess who?" you hold your hands over yoongi's eyes with a giddy smile and he immediately spins around to face you

"hey, what are you doing here?" yoongi asks, leaning down to give you a quick kiss before pulling away to check the time on his watch, "aren't you supposed to be in class right now?"

"my history seminar was cancelled because my professor had some kind of an emergency so i thought i'd come and have lunch with you guys!" you hum, reaching over to fix the thin silver chain hanging around yoongi's neck, "i was going to pick the food up before coming here but i didn't want to just choose for everyone so i thought it'd be better to get everyone's orders first-"

"oh, you don't have to do that, baby-" yoongi shakes his head, capping the marker and dropping it back into the wire holder, "lisa actually offered to treat us to lunch- apparently there's some bagel place that has, like, a hundred different fillings-"

"lisa's here?" you interrupt, suddenly straightening your back before looking around quickly, "i... was not aware that lisa was... still here! i thought she was only here for a little while-"

"mm, she ended up extending her stay! one of her clients pushed their appointment to thursday so she came over to help out for the day."

"oh, cool." you nod, pressing your lips together as you take a second to sort through your thoughts

your nose scrunches slightly as you weigh the pros and cons of saying what you're about to say to yoongi

...

it won't kill you to ask, right?

"hey, i don't wanna, um-" you pause, "you know, i don't wanna... be that girlfriend, but... do you think that there's a slight possibility that lisa might still have feelings for you?"

a moment of silence goes by before yoongi practically barks out a laugh of disbelief

"what? lisa? no, no- that- no, don't be ridiculous." he snorts, shaking his head before turning back around to face the whiteboard, "lisa most certainly does not still have feelings for me- and, by the way, she was the one who broke things off with me, so if anything, i should be the one who still has feelings for-" he stops himself midway and presses his lips together before turning to glance at you over his shoulder, "you know, i'm hearing the words coming out of my mouth and i... am going to shut up now."

"mm, good choice." you raise a brow before shrugging, "alright, well, i just- you know, it's a possibility but if you say that lisa doesn't still have feelings for you, then i believe you-"

"alright, boys! it's chow time!"

you turn your head to see lisa waltzing into the shop carrying two large paper bags and the rest of the boys immediately rush over to her like moths to a flame

she brought bagels for lunch?

you're not trying to be biased or anything sandwiches are easier to eat, in your personal opinion

you basically have to unhinge your jaw to get a good bite of a bagel

"y/n!" lisa looks more than surprised at your presence when you and yoongi walk over the join the group, "i wasn't aware you were going to be here today- yoongi told me that you had class so i-" she pauses to set the bags down on the table, "oh my goodness, i am so sorry but i really didn't know you'd be joining us for lunch... yoongi, you could've texted me or something-"

"she just got here!" yoongi shrugs as he takes a seat at the table, "don't pin this on me-"

"ah, i probably look like such a jerk right now..." lisa winces, scratching the back of her head before reaching down to grab a bagel out of one of the paper bags, "here! you can take my bagel-"

"no, no, it's alright!" you hold your hands out before shaking them, "don't be silly, you don't have to do that- it's very nice of you to offer but i- it's alright, you go ahead and enjoy yourself!"

"oh, stop- take the bagel, y/n." lisa scoffs playfully, practically shoving the bagel into your arms before rummaging through the bags again, "i'll just share a bagel with yoongi! you don't mind, right, yoongs?"

"yeah, i had a snack earlier so i'm not, like, starving or anything-" yoongi nods, "what kind of filling is it?"

"this one is..." lisa pauses to look at the sticker on the top, "smoked salmon and dill cream cheese with capers."

"yoongi doesn't like capers." you chime in, suddenly feeling the need to prove to everyone that you know your boyfriend very well, "i remember they were sprinkled in a salad one time and he said they were too salty-"

"eh, i'll survive. i can always just pick 'em out." yoongi shrugs nonchalantly and you can't help but purse your lips in mild frustration at his response

"'atta boy! luckily, they're already sliced in half otherwise we'd have to take turns taking bites which would be weird-"

"agreed." you mutter, peeling the label off your bagel and sticking it onto the side instead

"oh, lisa! i was wondering if maybe you could help me out with some custom headlights i'm working on?" hoseok perks up, "i'm having some trouble getting the halo lights to work and i need your magic hands-"

"mhm! i can definitely check them out after lunch-" lisa grins, taking a seat next to yoongi, "anyone need a napkin?"

"yes, please!"

"i need one too-"

"pass one over here-"

you know it's silly of you to be feeling jealous over this because god knows the only thing you know about cars is that key go in and car go vroom so obviously the boys would never ask you to help them out with anything like how they're asking lisa to help out

and you're trying very hard to noT throw a self-pity party but it's getting harder and harder to not to that

(and it certainly doesn't help that there aren't any more seats left at the table)

you just can't help but feel so!!!!! inferior!!!!! compared to lisa

she's so cool and pretty and witty and obviously very knowledgable about cars

and what are you bringing to the table??

ham and cheese sandwiches??? fancy sushi rolls????

obviously not anymore because they've been replaced by these stupid bagels

this is the first time you haven't been able to throw money at a problem and you're not,.., sure.,., how you feel about it,..,

"i, uh, have to work on a paper, so i think i'm going to go and eat this in the office if anyone wants to come with?" you clear your throat quietly as you start to back away from the table slowly, "...or i can just go fuck myself, which is fine too."

you're not entirely surprised when your comment isn't acknowledged by anyone and you nod to yourself before swiftly turning on your heel and trying your best not to storm towards the office

you force your fists to uncurl and your shoulders to relax slightly but you can't help but make a face when you hear the boys laughing obnoxiously at one of lisa's jokes

of course she has to be funny as well

because the woman literally has zero flaws

you've been trying to find a reason to hate her and so far you haven't found anything negative to say

hating someone for having perfectly styled hair is a little odd

the legs of the chair screech against the floor as you pull it out and plop down

whatever

you like eating alone anyway

you unwrap the parchment paper and pick up the bagel before taking an overly aggressive bite of it, your cheeks practically bursting from how much food is currently in your mouth

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as you chew, tossing the bagel back onto the wrapper with a thunk!

...

damnit!

this is the best goddamn bagel you've ever had in your entire life!!

"phtupid phriggin' bavhel." you grumble, reaching up to wipe the sauce off the corner of your mouth before swallowing roughly, "even the mayo is delicious! god, what is this? some kind of garlic mayo-"

"oh my god. i think she's finally lost it." you jolt upon hearing jungkook's voice and you turn to see him and jimin standing at the door

"what's your problem?" jimin asks, the two of them walking over to join you at your sad, lonely table

"what? nothing. i don't have a problem." you shake your head stubbornly, "i just- i just wanted to be alone, that doesn't mean something's wrong-"

"is that why you're in here basically yelling at a bagel?" jungkook points out as he pulls out a chair and sits on your right

"i'm- i'm just stressed about- my paper. or whatever. it's whatever, i'm fine-"

"you can talk to us, you know." you frown when jungkook suddenly reaches over and in an uncharacteristic move, places both hands over yours

"is it about lisa?" jimin asks, crinkling his nose as he sits down as well, "it's about lisa, isn't it?"

"no, it's not-" you press your lips together before letting out a light laugh, "you know, i don't even have a reason to be upset about lisa, right? she's super cool and very nice and knows a lot about cars and is yoongi's age and namjoon blessed me with the knowledge that she, apparently, was a very passionate lover- so i have nothing to be upset about!" you snap, slapping your palm down on the table before wincing and cradling your hand to your chest, "...everything is fine."

"i have to say, i really don't think jealousy is a good look on you." jungkook clicks his tongue before glancing down at your feet, "i also don't know if those shoes are a good look on you- jeez, it's like the people at gucci are just pulling design elements out of a hat-"

"you are not making me feel any better, jungkook- these shoes are new!"

"ooh, you should make him jealous!" jungkook suddenly lights up and the fluorescent light hanging above you guys flickers for a second

"we're going to have to round back to my shoes later because i really don't think they're that bad-"

"you should make him jealous and give him a taste of his own medicine..." jungkook trails off, ignoring your previous comments once again, "it's what you deserve."

"i'm not- i'm not doing that." you chuckle uneasily, "are you serious? this isn't high school and getting him back would just be petty of me-"

"but it'd feel so nice to be petty, don't you think?" jungkook encourages, scooting a little closer to you with a devilish grin, "think about it, y/n. don't you wanna see yoongi get all hot and possessive over you-"

"i don't think it's a good idea." jimin chimes in, shaking his head quickly as he moves in closer as well, "because if yoongi finds out you orchestrated something just to get him back, that might create an issue of trust in the relationship, and that would be very, very bad-"

"oh, but it feels so good to be bad..." jungkook coos, poking your arm with his pointer finger, "so, so good..."

"uh, i don't think so! i'd like to argue that it feels bad to be bad-"

"don't listen to jimin, he's a wuss-"

"don't listen to jungkook, he's an idiot-!"

"okay, cut it out!" you snap, shoving your hands into both their chests to keep them from coming any closer, "i... must admit, i do want to do something to piss yoongi off because of how much he's pissed me off, but... i'm not like that, you know? and i don't want to come off as some crazy girlfriend because-" you pause when you notice jungkook's finger creeping closer and closer to your bagel and you immediately deflate as soon as you realize what's going on here, "oh my god. you guys only came in here because you wanted to try my bagel, didn't you?"

jungkook and jimin exchange knowing glances before looking up at you sheepishly

"yeah, that makes more sense-" you snort, rolling your eyes before pushing the bagel away from you, "have at it, you animals."

you lean back against your chair, stroking your chin in thought as the sound of jungkook and jimin bickering over who gets the bigger half of the bagel starts to fade out

to be petty or not to be petty, that is the question...

»»————- 🛠️ ————-««

(spoiler alert: the answer to the previous question is to be petty. very, very petty.) »»————- 🛠️ ————-««

"namjoon! where did you put my keys??" yoongi calls out, yanking open another drawer to rifle through its contents, "i'm supposed to pick y/n up from campus and i can't find them anywhere... i don't want her to just stand there waiting for me..."

"looking for these?"

yoongi looks up to see lisa standing by the door with his keys in her hand before she tosses them to him

"yes! you're a lifesaver, thanks-" he catches them with one hand before stepping out from behind the counter, "i thought you were leaving today? we already said goodbye to you this morning-"

"yeah, i know-" lisa chuckles as she steps into the office, "it's just that... well, i was going to just leave but i actually had something i needed to talk to you about before i left. i felt it wouldn't be fair to either one of us if i didn't say anything."

"mm. what's up?" yoongi hums, sticking his hand into the lollipop jar to pull a cherry flavoured one out

he pulls another one out before tucking it into his pocket (one for you when he picks you up!)

"well, i guess i should just go ahead and say it- just gotta rip the bandaid off-" lisa straightens her blazer before clearing her throat, "yes."

"...yes?" yoongi frowns, unwrapping his lollipop before popping it into his mouth and scrunching up the wrapper, "i'm not following. yes to what?"

"oh, don't play dumb-" lisa snorts, flicking her wrist at him, "yes, as in: i would love to rekindle our friends with benefits situationship-"

"woah, what?!" yoongi immediately chokes and he yanks the lollipop out of his mouth before patting his chest roughly, "what are you- what the hell are you talking about??"

"what do you mean what the hell am i talking about??" lisa stares at him incredulously before shaking her head, "you're the one who's been giving me secret signals all week-"

"signals-" yoongi's gawks, "what signals??"

"you know, like, how you cancelled dinner plans with her so you could be with me..." lisa croons, taking a step closer towards him

"i cancelled dinner plans with y/n so i could be with twenty cars-" yoongi inches to the side so he can make a quick getaway to run behind the counter in case lisa pounces, "which, i'm realizing doesn't make me sound like the best boyfriend but- i most certainly didn't cancel just to spend private time with you, no offence-"

"what about when we shared a bagel and you didn't complain about the capers??" lisa snaps, lunging towards yoongi only for him to quickly spin out of the way and hurry to get behind the counter

"uh, we shared a bagel because i wasn't hungry for a full bagel and i thought you weren't either, and also-" yoongi grabs namjoon's wheely chair as a makeshift barrier between him and lisa, "i'm a grown man, i'm not going to throw a fit over some friggin' capers-"

"how about when i squeezed your arm and asked you if you'd been working out and you totally flexed your arm for me??" lisa grabs the arms of the chair before yanking and aggressively rolling it behind her, yoongi's eyes widening in panic at the sudden empty space in between the two of them

"i flexed it to prove to you that i have indeed been working out-!" yoongi hops up onto the counter as soon as lisa darts towards him and he hurries to jump off so he's on the other side of it, knocking the phone and namjoon's pen holder down onto the ground in the process, "friends can ask each other if they've been hitting the gym!! i squeeze namjoon's arms all the time because his biceps are literally boulders-"

"i just feel like we have unfinished business, you know?" lisa whines, pausing for a second before bringing a hand up to bite down on the tip of her pointer finger teasingly, "plus, you have to admit that our sex was super hot-"

"are you- hello, i'm dating y/n!" yoongi gasps, "our business is finished! we have no more- we're out of business, lisa!"

"oh, c'mon." lisa raises a brow, clearly unimpressed with his reaction, "it's not going to hurt anyone to keep me as your sexy little secret- it's perfect! i only come into town, like, once or twice a year, so she won't even suspect anythi-"

"what are you- are you insane?! i'm not going to cheat on y/n-" yoongi chokes before raising his hands in defence, "lisa, you're a very beautiful woman and we do have a history, but- look, i'm sorry if i sent you mixed signals this week, that was certainly not my intention- please understand that i am very much not trying to cheat on someone who i love very much and who i'm pretty sure loves me back, so-"

"then who's that person she's so obviously flirting with right now?" lisa points over his shoulder, "also, she's barely visited you this week. what kind of girlfriend doesn't want to always be with her boyfriend??"

"first of all, space can be healthy, and second of all, she- hold on, you said flirting?" yoongi turns to look over his shoulder and out the door, tilting his head slightly when he sees you standing at the front of the garage laughing with... someone he certainly doesn't recognize...

"you can leave all of this behind and come and work for me, yoongi-" yoongi jumps when he suddenly feels hands grasping at the collar of his jumpsuit and he turns back to see lisa standing right in front of him (how did she move so quickly and quietly?!), "we can be happy together, i swear-"

"yeah, cool, just give me a second-" yoongi gently yanks lisa's hands off of him before hurrying out of the office and making a beeline right for you and this mysterious stranger

"oop- okay, he's coming this way-" baekhyun mutters, glancing over your shoulder before looking back at you, "it's show time. you ready?" he hums, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear

"what do you think? do we look convincing?" you reach down to unbutton another button on your blouse before adjusting the collar

it's taking everything within you noT to whip around to see if yoongi's just walking towards you or if he's storming towards you... because there's definitely a difference and you definitely want it to be the latter

the plan you came up with had a pretty simple formula: one handsome stranger + one flirty, oblivious y/n = one jealous yoongi

jungkook had a point about how nice it'd be to get yoongi all riled up and possessive and frankly you think you deserve it considering how dismissive he's been with you all week... which is why you were more than happy to recruit your very handsome friend baekhyun (he's very sweet / you met last semester in one of your history courses / he was more than willing to help out with your plan because he's a theatre major and this is good practice for him) to help you out with your plan!

"you're laughing like a robot." baekhyun lowers his voice, "i told you to act natural-"

"i'm being natural! ha, ha! ha! ha-ha. you're so funny, baek-" you giggle obnoxiously, reaching over to slap his chest gently, "you are absolutely the funniest person i've ever met-"

"y/n!" yoongi clears his throat loudly and you bite back a grin at the hint of annoyance you can detect in his voice, "i... thought i was picking you up from class today? i wasn't aware you hired a chauffeur!"

"oh, yoongi!" you spin around, feigning surprise as if you totally weren't expecting to see him at all, "oh, this is actually my friend- i know you've been busy so he offered to give me a ride!" you hum, stepping aside to let baekhyun step up onto the sidewalk, "baekhyun, this is yoongi-" you gesture to yoongi, "yoongi, this is baekhyun! ...my boyfriend."

you're hoping your accidental on-purpose flub-up triggers yoongi's memory of how he accidentally introduced lisa to you as his girlfriend and you're delighted to see the way yoongi's jaw drops slightly, "oh, my bad! i'm sorry, i don't know how that happened- what i meant to say was baekhyun, this is yoongi, my boyfriend. there we go."

"baekhyun..." yoongi repeats, his eyes narrowing slightly when baekhyun suddenly wraps an arm around your shoulder and gives you a squeeze "well, that's very nice of you to drive y/n all the way here. thanks for doing that, man."

"oh, it's no problem at all!" baekhyun hums, reaching over to pinch your cheek, "y/n's the sweetest and i didn't want to abandon her on campus-"

"okay, she wasn't abandoned, i was literally about to leave to pick her up-" yoongi points out, lifting his keys with a jingle before abruptly shoving them into his back pocket, "you know, y/n's never mentioned a baekhyun before. you two seem... close!"

"oh, baek and i go way back." you snort, digging your elbow into his side with a grin, "isn't that right, baek?"

baek

yoongi pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek at the fact that baekhyun still has his arm wrapped around your shoulder and you haven't made a move to shoVE it off

how can you not see that his intentions with you aren't just chummy??

he wouldn't have driven you all the way here if he didn't want to get his grubby hands under your skirt-

"we most certainly do! we made some great memories in that lecture hall- i have to say, i was, uh, pretty disappointed when i found out she was already in a relationship..." baekhyun sighs dramatically, shaking his head before looking back at you, "i would treat you right and never cancel dinner plans with you-"

"okay, i think it's time for you to go, bacon-" yoongi forces a smile on his face before reaching over to gently pull you towards him, "thank you for dropping my girlfriend off. have a good one."

"oh, no problem!" baekhyun points towards you, "hey, lemme know if you need a ride to campus on monday because i'd be happy to swing by your apartment and-"

"no, i can take her!" yoongi manoeuvres you so that you're standing behind him and basically blocked from baekhyun's sight, "i've got it from here, thanks."

"bye, baek!" you wave at baekhyun as gets into his car and he salutes at you before his right eye drops in a cheeky wink and it's at that point that yoongi really thinks he's about to lose it

what the hell was that?!

he spins around to face you as soon as baekhyun zooms off and you keep yourself from asking him why his ears have suddenly turned super red

"why are you wearing lowbuttons to class?" yoongi crosses his arms over his chest, "i thought you said you were going to use them as, like, apartment decoration."

"louboutins, yoongi." you correct, looking down at your slick stilettos, "and why can't i wear louboutins to class?"

"you wore them out to dinner one time and i ended up having to carry you back to the car because your feet were aching-" yoongi reminds you with a pointed tone, "are you telling me that you walked up and down and all around campus in those things?"

"maybe i did." you shrug, turning to stick your nose up in the air a little, "i can wear stilettos to class if i so please."

"and the miniskirt?"

"what, you don't like it?" you pout, reaching down to pick a piece of fluff off the surface, "it's new!"

it's a plain black skirt but it has a little slit on the side and you purposely bought this specific piece knowing that yoongi has expressed how much he likes you in black

"of course i like it, and obviously i'm a big fan of the heels but-" yoongi huffs, "all i'm saying is that it's a little odd- the timing is weird for your miniskirts and heels to make a sudden comeback now that you're all buddy-buddy with this backyawn-"

"it's baekhyun-"

"that's what i said!"

"you know, i don't know what you're implying here but i haven't done anything wrong-" you shrug, "are you feeling okay? maybe you need to take a nap-"

"stop being stubborn, y/n. just tell me what's going on!"

"nothing's going on!" you insist, raising your hands in defense before flicking a strand of hair over your shoulder, "everything is perfectly fine and nothing is-"

"are you leaving me for baekhyun?" yoongi interrupts, his eyes suddenly softening, "because if this is how you're telling me we're over, it's a pretty shitty-"

"what- what?? no!" you shake your head quickly, "no, of course i'm not- why would you even- okay, fine! fine, i-" you let out a breath and your shoulders drop a little, "it's just that... i don't know, it kind of feels like i've been fighting to get your attention for the whole week and i... i feel like i shouldn't have to do that as your girlfriend, you know? and i'm not... i guess i just felt like i wasn't stacking up to lisa and how cool and smart she is and- this whole week it's just felt like you're in a relationship with lisa and not me, so i... wanted to make you jealous to see if you still cared. or whatever."

"are you serious?" yoongi's eyes flutter shut and he reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, "fuck, i'm sorry, ah- i'm sorry, y/n, i really am-" his brows knit together in remorse as he looks at you, "i think i just got swept up in all the new clients she was bringing in so i was focusing more on that than on noticing what was going on with you... i'm sorry. why didn't you just come and talk to me about it?"

"i didn't know how." you mutter, reaching up to scratch the side of your head, "i've never had to deal with something like this before, so... i know it was silly of me to come up with this whole thing-"

"you are my girlfriend, y/n." yoongi reminds you, his voice softening, "not lisa. it's you." he reaches over to hook a finger under your chin so he can get you to look at him, "i promise i only have eyes for you, pretty girl. you still love me?"

"god, yoongi-" you feel your cheeks flush at the nickname and you roll your eyes playfully before turning your head, "yeah. duh."

"oh, you silly thing..." he tuts, pulling you in for a hug and propping his chin up on the top of your head, "i'm sorry, baby. i really didn't mean to make you feel like that..." he pulls away and reaches down to glide his finger down the bridge of your nose before poking the tip, "i hope you can forgive me for being a shitty boyfriend."

"i'll forgive you if you forgive me for pretending to flirt with someone else." you smile sheepishly, yoongi grinning before nodding in agreement

"deal." he wraps an arm around your shoulder as the two of you head back towards the direction of the office, "so you really went through all that trouble just to make me a little jealous?" yoongi grins, "just for a little bit of attention? as if i'm not already all over you when we're alone-"

"well, it worked, didn't it?" you take your bottom lip in between your teeth as you squish your cheek against yoongi's shoulder and look up at him, "my acting skills are not half bad, if i do say so myself-"

"oh, shit, uh-" yoongi suddenly stops in his tracks when he sees lisa step out of the office and he spins around so that his back is facing her, "not to make you worry, but you should probably know that lisa's somehow convinced that i've been secretly flirting with her all week because i want to become friends with benefits again and she almost, like, body-slammed me in the office- also, if namjoon asks, tell him a raccoon snuck in and that's why his desk is a mess and his pens are all over the floor-"

"wait, what?!" your brows knit together and you're about to lean over to look at lisa but yoongi quickly reaches out and grabs onto your shoulders to keep you in place

"-yeah, so i'm going to lay you down on the hood of that car now because doing something extreme is probably the only thing that'll prove to her that she's wrong and i am very desperate to show her that she's wrong-"

"lay me down on the- and do what?! yoongi-!" you don't get much of a chance to say anything else before yoongi's suddenly bending down to pick you up off the ground in one swift movement, his fingers digging underneath your thighs as he lays you down on the hood of the nearest car, "yoongi-! you can't just-"

"shush!" yoongi hisses, pressing his lips against yours to shut you up promptly

"mmvph-"

it doesn't take you very long to melt into the kiss once you realize you haven't kissed yoongi like this in like a week and a half and you can't help but smile at the familiar faint taste of cherry you're getting from him

yoongi's warm hand slides down from your waist so he can hitch your left leg up against his hip, one of your heels slipping from your foot and clattering onto the floor

your senses are so clouded with yoongi cherry yoongi cherry that you nearly forget the two of you aren't alone (and also, all of this is definitely being recorded on the security cameras right now)

"hey, so- i- i'm gonna get going-" lisa announces loudly as she stands at a good distance away from the two of you, her eyes looking up towards the ceiling so that she doesn't have to watch the way yoongi's kissing down your neck, "i have to check out of my hotel, so-"

"yeah, sounds good!" yoongi pulls away for a second and shoots a quick thumbs up over his shoulder, "see you later, pal!"

"bye, lisa!" you chime in, giving her a wave even though she isn't looking at you and is really trying to double-time it to her car, "it was so nice meeting you!"

the two of you watch silently as lisa practically leaps into her mustang, the sound of the engine revving before she quickly speeds off like she just remembered she left the oven on at home

you turn your head to look up at yoongi before scoffing lightly, hooking a finger against his chain to pull him back down towards you, "you're ridiculous, you know that?"

"yeah, i know-" yoongi's nose crinkles before he offers you a boyish smirk and a half-hearted shrug, "you love it, though."

🎙️help me help you make your wishes come true (send me a request!) ✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!) 💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles like this one!) 🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

[needleandhammer]

From Simmer to Score

Pairing: Soft!Curtis Everett x Reader

Summary: Curtis is good with his hands. And other stuff.

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit, smut, oral sex, penetration, fingering, dub con breeding, unprotected sex, breeding kink sort of, size kink, petite!reader, Curtis' fingers

Word count: 4k

A/N: This doesn't really fit the prompt i chose from @stargazingfangirl18 's 5k Soft Dark Challenge: "You hire a local handyman to help you with a few home projects." But the prompt still inspired this. I wanted to take the prompt somewhere more explicitly dark but once again my contribution to this challenge turned marshmallow soft. This is an au, non-apocalypse au, normal life au, idk. Just self-indulgent. Also, it was a struggle finding a gif of clean Curtis. Because he's clean in this and not living on a train, i swear.

“Try again. Very good. Let’s have you run through the exercises and then we’ll take a look at the new homework."

At your smile, the little girl nods and quickly turns to concentrate on coordinating her footwork on the pedals of your old Altenberg while reading the notes in front of her.

You back away, heading to the kitchen for some iced tea. You nearly forget your other guest who sits at the table.

This is the third time he’s accompanied Wendy for her lessons. For a man of his size, Curtis makes no sound except the faint swish of pages turning in his book. Like before, he arrived with Wendy, nodded a greeting at you, waited for your invitation to the kitchen, and then spent the entire hour silently reading.

You pull the fridge door open and pour tea into three glasses. You quietly slide one towards him. Curtis’ eyes flicker up to you, brilliantly blue, and he gives you a low murmur.

“Thanks.”

You’re about to return to Wendy when you hear your name in Curtis’ smooth baritone.

He nods to the notepad left on the table. “I, uh, noticed your reminder to call for maintenance. Something wrong?”

“Oh.” You tidy up the table, sheepish at being caught procrastinating house chores. “Just needed a second look at the water heater. The repair company came by and we tested things out when they were done, but the next day I had no hot water.”

You grimace, thinking of taking another cold shower.

“If you’re okay with it, I can grab my tool bag from my car and take a look,” he says.

You’re not prepared for the offer. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

He shakes his head, no hesitance. “I don’t mind at all. As long as you don’t.”

“I mean. I-I would really appreciate the help.”

Your time with Wendy ends after you review practice goals with her until her next lesson.

Curtis joins you two. “Hot water is running again.”

Your jaw drops and you skip to the kitchen. Hot water pours out of your faucet. You return, unable to resist grinning widely at him.

“Thank you, Curtis. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Curtis taught my dad everything about fixing houses!” Wendy chirped. He offers her a crooked smile.

“Do you have everything?” you ask your young pupil.

While Wendy thanks you and you help her pack, Curtis watches on with a faint curve to his lips.

“Edgar’s changing over to late shifts for the next couple of months. I’ll probably be driving Wendy to lessons again.”

You nod. “Sounds good. See you both then.”

After they leave, you enjoy a glorious steamy shower and then you settle onto your couch with a plate of leftover grilled veggies and fish.

Reviewing your schedule, you consider taking on one or two more students. It was years ago that you gave private lessons to help pay for college. Nearly a decade of moving between a few jobs, you are now in a quiet suburb working with a team of digital designers. The job allows you to work from home half the week, a flexibility you take great appreciation in. The professional stability encouraged you to return to music and to helping others develop their musical interests.

Wendy is your only student at the moment as you want to ease into taking on this additional responsibility. You smile, recalling your initial meeting with Wendy and her father, Edgar. Her father’s bubbly energy is such a stark contrast to Curtis. Edgar opened up quickly, sharing that he and Wendy’s mother were no longer together, that he would support whatever Wendy wanted to do. There was a perpetually youthful vigor to the room when Edgar was present.

Wendy calls Curtis, Uncle, and his adoration for her is clear. He barely said two words when he was here the first time. It doesn’t bother you. You get the impression Curtis purposely tries to not draw attention to himself, and you can empathize with that preference for tranquility.

_ _ _ _

It’s a windy day, heavy with rain clouds, the next time Wendy and Curtis are over.

“I saw your screen door was down. Planning on replacing it?” Curtis asks when you wrap up with Wendy.

“Nah. I was just going to look up what I would need and try fixing it myself.”

“It’s kind of heavy.”

His tone doesn’t imply any skepticism aimed at you and you’re not offended. You’re used to people calling you ‘small,’ though you’re not small so much as you’re short. You like to think you take up ample space. You also admit strength is not something you have in abundance. Your whole life you relied on family and friends for a lot of literal heavy lifting. But Curtis already helped you out once.

“I could fix it up.”

“I won’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s no bother, really. I’m happy to help out.”

He promises to be quick about it. While he works, Wendy happily practices on your piano.

“I have Oreos,” you announce.

She pauses to grab a cookie. “Thank you so much for letting me practice longer.”

“Of course, dear.”

She chats a bit about her upcoming birthday plans, as children are wont to do.

Curtis pops his head in. “All set. Do you want to take a look?”

You follow him out back. Swinging the screen door on its hinges, you nodded appraisingly.

“I suppose it passes inspection.” You look up with a cheeky smile, pleased to see Curtis’ lips twitching. “Thank you. Really, Curtis. I do wish you’d let me pay you.”

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Besides, you’re great with Wendy. I’m grateful for that.”

You can tell he loves Wendy just as much as if he was her father. “In that case, I shall give Wendy her next lesson for free.”

He blinks at you, trailing behind as you make your way inside and calling out to Wendy.

Curtis has resigned himself to a quiet, bare life. He doesn't think he wants anything much. He has Edgar’s loyalty, a result of the brotherhood he formed in his impoverished teen years. They survived together, looked out for each other. Once Wendy came along like a little star burning in a smoggy midnight, Curtis counted himself lucky to witness the little girl growing up. A chance to help nourish one seed.

The first time he arrived with Wendy at your home, Curtis couldn’t help listening in on the entire lesson, making no progress in his book. Your clear voice, your generous encouragement. You, light on your feet moving so swiftly. You, barely reaching his shoulders yet mighty in spirit, curvy and sensuous. Curtis had an urge to lift you in his palms to be stored safely in his pocket.

_ _ _ _

And so things follow. Wendy diligently learning and Curtis primarily accompanying her, taking his place at your kitchen table. You come to enjoy his steady, grounding presence just a couple steps away from you and Wendy.

Now and then, he’ll notice some upkeep you’re doing – a leaky faucet, a box of new light bulbs on your counter – and volunteer his assistance. You are reluctant to put him to work, sure that he spends enough of his days working and doing chores in his own home and besides these are tasks you can handle even if you find them tedious. Curtis is always gentle in his offers, always obtains your permission first. As time goes by and you grow less shy about accepting his help and he grows more comfortable in your space, you realize working with his hands is second nature to Curtis.

It doesn't take long for Curtis to admit to himself he wants to be near you.

Curtis doesn’t meddle. He doesn’t mingle. He doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. He is aware you thrived on your own for a long time, just like him; and like he has Edgar and Wendy, you have a small close-knit group of friends. Lending a hand to you doesn’t count because you are like him.

Maybe this is why he lets his guard down under your roof. There is something kindred in your calm nature that his soul responds to. Under your roof, no silences need to be filled; no pretenses forced upon him. Your invitation to rest is unspoken – he hears it and almost weeps. The more time he spends with you, like two wavelengths in tune, the stronger his urge to insert himself. To fix, or in some way leave his mark on your home. Curtis doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. Lending a hand to you didn't count. Until he cannot help it. He doesn’t reach out for you, doesn’t try to prove you’ll curve perfectly within his arms; but he’ll ensure your softness can curl up in a sturdy home and delight in simple pleasures.

One evening, when Edgar works later than usual, you ask if Wendy and Curtis would join you for dinner.

“Nothing fancy. I have some noodle soup and salad. Curtis, can you call Edgar to meet us here?”

Wendy sets the table. Curtis assists with the food.

He’s quick to cup your hand in his when it's nicked with a knife. You can’t help leaning into him as he runs your finger under water, wraps it in clean paper towel. He finishes with the salad, making you sit at the table.

Edgar joins you all, tired but quickly gaining energy with food and a few sips of wine. You are full and warmed by their company. While Edgar cheers on Wendy while she practices from her book, you feel Curtis’ fingers curl over your hand. His thumb brushes over your cut. You share a smile with him.

_ _ _ _

You settle into your little Toyota only to find it won’t start. It stumps you because you never had issues with this car before. You have no experience with car maintenance and don’t know the first thing to check for an engine that won’t wake.

Calling Curtis to see if you can reschedule, he insists that he can swing by to pick you up.

He had called you, his voice almost shy. He wanted to surprise Wendy for her birthday with a piano and asked for your help.

You direct Curtis to the string instruments shop in the city’s downtown area. The two of you are greeted by a sales staff upon entry. When asked, Curtis looks to you, wordless, so you do your best to describe to the salesperson what you're looking for.

There are several options of acoustic and digital instruments. You give little demonstrations on a few pianos that you consider reasonably priced.

“Curtis, check this one out.” Your hold on his sleeve is loose and propels him towards one of the upright Baldwin pianos.

“I think any of these would suit Wendy. The sounds are clear, and they don’t take up too much space. The salesperson said this one is second-hand and it’s in really good shape.” You press a few chords, then look up at Curtis with a smile.

He looks at you, gaze gentle. “I’m not worried about price. I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

That was his general response when you asked his opinion during your time in the shop: he was up for anything you recommended. Other than that, he trailed behind you so that the salesperson assumed you were the primary purchaser. Much like in your house, Curtis seemed to try hard to not draw attention. Oddly, you didn’t think anyone in the same room with him could help noticing him. Even with the dark apparel he favored, Curtis’ reserved nature can't hide all the intensity and strength just thrumming beneath the surface of his tall imposing build.

You convince him to sit beside you on the bench. He’s never played before, but humors you and tries random combinations of thirds with you. You watch his hands – clean, wide, with thick fingers – hover and slide along the keys.

He nudges you.

“Sorry. I was just impressed your sausage fingers are quite nimble.”

A half-hearted glare. “Thank you. For coming with me.”

“If I say you’re welcome, will you take a look at my car when we get back?”

He stays for dinner.

It starts raining and you have to rush out to gather hanging linens. He helps and you both run back inside. You're giddy at his eagerness to assist, resulting in damp clothing on you both.

“Oh, let’s dump it here. I’ll fold it tomorrow.” You are happy to leave the laundry in a pile on an armchair, in too good of a mood to care.

You catch him with his attention on you, a look so soft you have to look away, walk blindly a few steps. His touch is on your arm, turning you around just as you reach the piano.

He dips his head low to press chapped lips to yours, capturing your lips more, closing in to envelope you in his heat.

Curtis’ hands grip your hips with a quick jostle against the piano, prompting a slur of bright notes ringing from the keyboard that you are pressed against. And then he’s hitching you further up and firmly in his arms. His tongue licks against yours. You slant your open mouth, inviting him to taste, to devour you from the inside out. Your legs wrap around his waist like you belong there, tethered to this point in time. There’s no past or future, only Curtis, only feeling safe and real in his arms now now now.

You barely register Curtis moving, tipping you onto the couch cushions to hover over you so close. You can’t remember burning for someone like this. You can’t remember much of anything, focused on Curtis, solid and unyielding between your thighs, muscles buzzing with raw strength.

You want so badly to know more of him. Your hands wander shamelessly under his shirt, sliding up his wide back, grazing under to squeeze appreciatively at his pecs only to be called south by a narrowing of hair that leads you on until you bump his belt buckle.

You’re distracted by the tease of hot kisses he drops along your neck. There’s something sweet, vulnerable in how you allow him access to the delicate skin there. It makes Curtis bury his nose against the crook of your jaw, a long moment for him to whisper something like a prayer, before his tongue swirls and he nibbles your ear lobe. Your high pitched gasp hastens his desire. Your shirt is gone. Your bra untangled from your arms. Your breasts, oh, Curtis takes a mouthful of one fleshy breast, sucking greedily when you moan, breathless and aching now.

You claw at his shirt until it too disappears. You wriggle to help Curtis pull your pants and underwear off. Your legs want to yank him back to you, but he braces himself to allow just a bit more space between you both than before.

“Let me.” It’s almost a growl, and you want to say yes, but you want to kiss him more. You’re clinging by his neck, drinking from his soft lips, until you both part to draw breath.

His hand caresses your cheek, sliding over to slip two fingers into your slack mouth. Your tongue swipes at them, lips close to suck them in, eager to touch and taste any part of him. Jaw tight, Curtis pulls his fingers away and down. Down. His hand spans large over your curves and you hold your breath, grit your teeth. One finger saturated with saliva, sinks into your cunt. You swear you can feel more arousal dripping from you to soak his hand and he adds another finger, drawing short whimpers from you as his fingers withdraw and plunge in. God, you won’t ever tease him about his fingers again because they’re perfect. Agonizing in their quest to undo you.

His voice is husky groans, wanting so bad to feel your oh so tight cunt around his cock. Soon.

He tortures you, adds a third finger. You’re riding them, whimpering as he pumps them in you and parts the digits to stretch you. His weight slides away and you can only grasp at his hair, you’re barely glimpsing his head between your legs before you arch high when his thick wet tongue swirls and licks your folds, dialing up the white hot blooming inside you. His fingers curl just enough inside to press that patch against your pelvis that strings you tight as a bow. Pressing insistently, scratching with finger pads, until you burst and all you can do is chase more of that pulsing pleasure, humping against his face. Your hips quiver while Curtis laps at your slit.

His sucks grow gentle, thumb teasing your bud, helping you come down from the intense high.

You sigh his name.

“I’m here.”

“I want you.”

His arms wind around you, holding you tight while he kisses you. You can’t remember feeling anything better than being cradled like this as Curtis languidly kisses you.

He’s not rushed to move from you, so you cling to him and he loves you for it. Yes, he’s hard, but he wants to savor this. Already high on the sensation of your soft flesh underneath him, your thick thighs tight at his waist, your quiet hums of pleasure the evidence of his thorough work.

He ran from his past, from early years strife with despair, washing away those memories like dust and grime. He thought his life of isolation was one that moved him forward; but he has been stuck all this time.

Seeing you care for Wendy, Curtis realized he wanted that. He wanted what his friend had. He wanted you, and the precious something conceived between two souls that sing for one another. Soon. He’ll make your sweet little body his to protect, to warm through the nights.

_ _ _ _

“Thanks so much for having us for dinner,” Edgar says. He was been watching Wendy run around your humble backyard, chasing butterflies and searching for little frogs. He turns to you with a toothy grin. “And for your help with the gift. Wendy’s going to flip. I’m lucky to have you and Curtis both around.”

Your smile is just as affectionate. “Happy to have you here. Although,” your smile turns sly, “I’m a little disappointed that your special lady friend didn’t join us.”

“Curtis,” Edgar mutters under his breath. Curtis is washing dishes at the sink and pays no mind to any half-hearted curses directed at him.

Your brow arches, urging Edgar to talk as he can't help an embarassed grin.

“Well, she was traveling for work, unfortunately. But I know Wendy doesn’t mind her.”

The girl has whispered to you that Edgar’s girlfriend is beautiful and she wished she would become her new mom; this you keep to yourself, not wishing to embarrass or pressure your friend further.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Edgar’s eyes slide sideways, quiet for a moment before he jumps out of his seat and heads to the door leading to the backyard. “I’ll just…uh…” He exits, trailing off without finishing his sentence.

You sigh and take another bite of your cake, indulging in the moist chocolate flavor. Glancing up, you find Curtis watching you. His attention is singular, a warm simmer in those bright blue eyes, causing you to freeze except for your tongue that finishes sweeping over your upper lip. His gaze narrows, grew weighty, tracking your tongue as it retreats into your mouth. He pushes away from the counter, steps close until he is able to drop to his knee beside your chair. One strong yank has your seat turning so you face him.

The door creaks open again.

“Well, the sun’s getting low so I think we’ll head home and wind down.” Edgar announces with his daughter close at his side. He has a boyish grin on his face, pulling Wendy towards the front of your house. "Wendy, say good bye.”

“Isn’t Curtis leaving too?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll leave when he’s ready.”

“Have a good night, you two,” you say, walking with them to the front. Though Edgar is still cheerfully thanking you for the meal and insisting you stay inside and not see them off.

“You go on and just have a good time, both of you.” He sends a wink your way. You shake your head at him. “Curtis! You be a gentleman now.”

Quick as he can, he has Wendy secured in the car and they are on their way.

“Huh.” You lock the front door before turning to find Curtis. You can tell he wants to roll his eyes at Edgar’s antics. Instead, he closes in on you.

“Are you worried about me not being a gentleman?” he murmurs. His fingers hook under yours loosely.

You smirk. “I’m worried about you being too much of a gentleman.”

That smolder returns to his gaze. For a second, your body shivers, overwhelmed and you side step him, if only for a moment’s relief from the heat of his eyes.

You reach out. He takes your hand.

Once you’re down a layer, he grows even hotter seeing the mesh and lace number you have on. A tantalizing tease with the hard peaks of your nipples veiled in barely-there maroon. Just daring him to unwrap you. So he does.

His mouth leaves a wet trail seeking sensitive spots on your neck, you breasts, your thighs. Even as he moves, he still covers nearly all of your body, his heat and weight drowning you in want.

Your shudder has him grazing his beard up the inside of your thigh so that you arch and plea for his touch. God, all your uninhibited responses spur the blazing hunger in him. Curtis peels the mesh underwear down, impatient for a taste of you. His mouth waters, catching wafts of arousal and then he’s sucking and lapping your wet pussy. His rumbling groan is like a physical nudge that bows your back, and you remain rigid in the air at the sensation of his thick tongue pushing into you. Wide shoulders part your legs, shifting until your thighs rest on vast muscles.

You rock against him, keen at the hard sucks. Two fingers dip into, fucking you and rubbing with a dizzying rhythm that brings you over the edge.

With little effort, he holds up your hips and you feel a pillow slide under you to angle you higher. Then his muscled arms hook under your knees and he finally lines up and rocks forward. The tip of his cock parts your folds. Your breath hitches. His cock slides in, forcing your walls to stretch, to mold tightly to his girth.

“Curtis” – your hand was going point to the little bedside table with condoms.

Instead, you’re gripping a blanket. Gasping as he withdraws and your pussy tries to hold him in.

You mumble against his lips, incoherent. “The…inside..”

And then he feeds you his length again. And again, that delicious, addicting friction.

"Yes, inside," he agrees softly. "Like this."

With every pump, the spark catches and blazes higher. Curtis rises onto his knees, thrusts harder, watching your eyes flutter open and shut. He’s panting with the pretty picture of a needy you. He grips your thighs. As if his life depends on how tight he clutches you. Concentrating hard, his eyes drop low. Fuck. He can see your pussy clench, your puffy outer lips suckling his cock. Curtis swears your little body is refusing to give him up, and you’re wet but your cunt squeezes him so tight he has to drive harder into you to avoid slipping out.

You’re not even aware of your breathy moans, so turned on by his groans, the rough thrusts he gives you. There’s no grinding. Curtis can tell he’s rubbed against your g-spot and he keeps his snapping hips angled just right, one callused thumb circling your clit too lightly. And then your breaths stutter, your legs seize, your back arches. Curtis grits his teeth, keeping the exact same pace, draws out the storm of your pleasure. It’s so consuming, you lose your voice.

Just as you are able to breathe again, able to sense the physical realm around you, Curtis speeds up, bucking hard with low grunts, powering into you.

A high gasp – you feel him flood you. He drops to press his chest to you, still pumping his release into your clenching walls; and it’s too much, his cock merciless within your sensitive channel. He can’t help it, even as your legs start writhing with his unrelenting stimulation, even as he hears your hitched whimpers.

He finally stills. His lips find yours, tongue stroking deep.

Long moments later, his name is gentle, falling from your lips. “We didn’t use protection.”

Curtis nuzzles you, rubs his nose along the planes of your cheeks. Returns to suck your bottom lip. “It’s okay,” he whispers.

There’s a soft frown upon your brow that he kisses, and then scatters more kisses on your face.

“But, what if?”

“I want you. I want everything with you.”

You’re barely able to react as he nips hard at your collarbone and then rolls his hips. He’s half-hard inside you. You’re quickly losing yourself in Curtis, overwhelmed by the combination of his hungry mouth on your skin, unyielding clasp on your thigh. His thrusts persist, pins you in place, lights you up and scorches you. You’re right where he wants you, whining for more more more.

Now with each beat of his heart, Curtis has his mind’s eye on the prize. He’ll have you over and over. And you’ll grow a piece of him inside you. You are the way forward. You are his.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Hurrah, this one felt like it took forever. I blame Curtis. He didn't give himself up to me easily. Let me love you, ya broody boi! Thank you for reading!

[let-love-run-red]

3 - Tonight

AO3 Link | Masterlist

The house had been built in the fifties. It made sense that parts of it were old and wearing thin, that things would need to be replaced. She wished she'd paid more attention when her father did repairs around her childhood home. If she had then maybe she wouldn't be so far in peach debt that she might as well give him the whole tree.

"Everything in this house is falling apart." Laura muttered as she sat on the floor in the kitchen, back against the cupboard, and a bottle of beer in her hand. Javier was lying on the hardwood floor in front of her with a bag full of tools beside him. He grumbled and let out a puff of breath the way he did when his hair fell in his face.

"It's not that bad Bonita." Javier replied. His voice was muffled with his torso in the cupboard beneath the sink. He was currently replacing the dish disposal that finally died, which meant she owed him another glass of whiskey and another basket of peaches.

Laura sighed and stretched her legs out, draping them across Javier's lap. He wasn't phased by the casual contact. Their relationship had progressed past the initial hesitant friendship and they took comfort in one another. It was nice having someone that felt so, safe.

Everything about Javier was safe. His voice was soothing and gentle, every touch was soft and hesitant, like he was always searching for her approval. He never assumed, never pushed, and she appreciated him for that.

"This thing is like eleven years old." He said, shuffling slightly. Laura pulled her legs off him and Javier sat up, knocking his forehead against the top edge of the cabinet with a resounding thump.

"Ay mierda," He hissed, pressing his hand flat to his forehead. Laura snorted and swallowed her beer before reaching up and setting it on the counter above her. She sat up on her knees and Javier ducked lower to avoid hitting his head again.

"Are you alright?" Laura asked as Javier winced. She tried her hardest not to giggle at the way he scrunched up his nose. He pulled his hand away from his forehead and checked it for blood. He rubbed his forehead, furrowing his brows.

"Yeah, that hurt." He said with a soft laugh. Laura snorted and pulled his hand away from his forehead to look at the red mark where his head connected with the cabinet. There was a small bump forming and he huffed.

Laura chuckled and patted his shoulder, resting her weight on him to steady herself as she pushed herself to stand. She huffed when her knees popped and stretched her shoulders out, making her way over to the fridge.

"Think it's time for a break?" She asked, digging through the freezer for an ice pack. Javier sighed and pulled the tie from his hair, running his fingers through his dark locks. She couldn't find an ice pack, but the bag of frozen peas in the bottom drawer should be enough.

She walked to the sink and grabbed a clean dish towel from the drawer beside it. Once the bag was wrapped in a towel she stood beside Javier, brushing his hair away from his face gently, and pressing the cold bundle against his forehead. He tipped his head back with a small grin and Laura felt heat rushing to her face.

"I want to get this finished before I leave." He said, taking the bundle and holding it against his own head. Laura wiped her palms on her jeans and turned back to the sink, staring through the empty drain hole down into the cupboard.

"I can live without a dish disposal for a night." She said, nudging Javier's hip with her toe. He dropped the ice pack into his lap and flexed his hands with a groan, before dropping his hands down to his thighs and staring at the floor between his knees.

They both sat in silence in her kitchen as the sun set. Both thinking, lost in their own worlds. She could never know what he was thinking but from the way he played with the screwdriver in his hands it was something captivating.

The comfortable silence was broken by the sound of Javier's stomach rumbling and his soft laugh.

"I'm sorry I should let you get some food." Laura said, shaking her head and offering Javier her hand. He accepted it and pulled himself to his feet and tossed his hair aside with a flick of his head.

"Why don't I get you something from town?" He offered, bending down to drop the screwdriver in his tool bag and picking it up. Laura shook her head and waved him off.

"No it's alright, I have stuff." she paused and wondered if she really did have anything microwaveable in the freezer.

"I'll find something. You go get your dinner and head out. I shouldn't keep you for so long." She said, waving him off and turning away from him. Javier tutted quietly and tapped his fingertips on the counter top.

"What if I want to have dinner with you?" He leaned over the counter, arms folded in front of him, his face suddenly very close to hers. Laura held his gaze, admiring the spots of gold in his dark brown eyes, the thin scar over the bridge of his nose, the deep gash over his cheek, and wondering what his stories were.

Her eyes flitted down to his lips for just a moment, wondering how soft they were and how they would feel pressed against her own. How he would taste, whether he would taste like the cigarettes he smoked or the peppermint gum he chewed.

"Then let's have dinner." She said. He smiled one of his rare parted-lip smiles. The ones he usually saved for when he fixed a difficult problem with his truck. The kind of smile that showed his asymmetrical incisors and crooked right canine and made his eyes shine.

"Alright, where should we eat?" She asked, setting her hand flat on his face and gently pushing him away from her as she stood straight. He laughed and pushed her hand to the side before running a hand through his hair.

"Let me clean up here and we'll figure it out." He offered. She agreed and helped him repack his tool bag.

Dinner was something simple, a little hole in the wall Mexican restaurant Javier recommended. The tacos were delicious but Javier bragged he could make them better. Laura ended up challenging him, and he promised that someday he would make her proper carne asada tacos.

They talked and laughed long after their food was gone. Javier finished installing the new dish disposal for her, and then helped her wash the dishes they'd used for dinner. If she didn't know better she would think he didn't want to leave.

"Javier, it's midnight!" She exclaimed when she finally pulled her phone out. He took his own phone from his back pocket and glanced at it, shrugging at the late hour. He slipped his phone back into his pocket before turning to her with a lopsided grin.

"Should I head home then?" He teased, turning to walk towards the front door. She hesitated. He had work in the morning, reasonably he should head back, but the house always felt colder when he wasn't around.

"It's late, and the roads are snowy, just stay here tonight." She offered. Javier paused with one boot halfway on and turned to look at her with a tilted head.

"I'll be alright." He said softly, slipping his boot the rest of the way on. Laura reached out and gently set her hand on his forearm. Javier turned to her with a soft expression.

"Please stay?" She asked. He examined her pleading expression and pressed his lips together like he was deep in thought, before letting out a breath and kicking his boot off.

"Just for tonight."

***

She was back in the apartment she shared with him in Spokane, backed against the counter with bleeding feet while he towered over her. Tears streamed down her face and she begged him, pleaded with him to forgive her, it was just an accident, a mistake, she didn't mean to. It was just a glass.

"Chris, no Chris! Stop it!" She cried, holding her hands out. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. hard.

"Laura, wake up!" He shouted. That made her pause.

"Laura!" Javier pleaded, shaking her shoulders gently. She shot up from her bed, nearly headbutting Javier in the nose. He pulled back as she looked around the room, wild-eyed, and panted.

Her heart pounded in her chest and her head rang. Every muscle in her body was on edge, ready to fight for her survival again, or to run for her life if she had to. She turned to face Javier and her body jolted at the man sitting on the edge of her bed. She took a deep breath, and the adrenaline pumping through her slowly faded.

The rage that she'd been prepared to defend herself with faded along with the adrenaline. It was replaced by exhaustion and desperate fear. She let out a sob and buried her face in her hands, trying to breathe through her tears.

"Oh querida, you're alright." Javier whispered gently. She felt the bed shift and turned to see he'd slid a little closer to her, hand hovering just above her shoulder, like he was afraid to touch her. She wiped the tears from her cheek and leaned into him. He immediately pulled her closer and smoothed her hair down, shushing her softly.

"Estas bien, you're safe Laura." He said, leaning back against the headboard. Laura followed him, laying against his chest and resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back, resting his chin atop her head and squeezing his eyes shut as she shook in his arms.

When she'd finally calmed enough, she pulled away from him slightly and sat up. She huffed and rubbed her cheeks clean of tears. Javier sat quietly, waiting to see if she would offer more information about what happened.

She didn't, at first. Not until he saw the stray piece of hair stuck to her forehead and gently reached out to brush it away. He tucked it carefully behind her ear, smoothing it down with such care.

"Um, I'm sorry I woke you up." She breathed softly. He shook his head and swiped his thumb over her cheek to clear the stray tear that escaped. He let his hand rest on her jaw, holding some of the weight she leaned against him.

"It's ok, I don't mind." He soothed. She cleared her throat and rubbed his thumb over her cheek. "What were you dreaming about?" He prodded ever so gently. It took her a moment, weighing her options, wondering if his comfort was worth burdening him with her past. But his soft gaze told her it was okay.

"I, my um," She took a shaky breath and Javier sat up, listening attentively.

"His name was Chris." She looked down at the blanket she held in her hands and picked at a loose thread.

"We were together for five years, really it should've been two." She tried to make a joke and shook her head. Javier didn't laugh.

"I guess I was too scared of him to leave sooner." She shifted to sit cross-legged in front of him and pulled the blanket over her lap again. 

"I didn't tell him where I was going when I came here and I left almost all my stuff there. I just," she paused and took a deep breath, "I had to get out." She smoothed a hand over her hair and looked down at the blanket. 

Javier took a moment to respond. It was long enough that she worried she'd said too much or revealed too much of her past. He was just her friend, after all. He let out a soft breath and reached for her, holding his arms open to offer a hug. She let out a relieved sigh and leaned into his chest again.

"I don't know who failed you then, but you've got me now." He said gently, cheek resting against the top of her head.

"I won't let anyone hurt you. I promise." He whispered. She felt tears welling in her eyes again and pressed her face into his T-shirt.

They sat like that for a moment until Laura pulled away. She pressed her hand flat against his chest and rubbed her eyes with a yawn, leaning away from him.

"I'll let you get back to sleep. If you need anything, you know where I am." He said, standing up from the bed. She reached for him and made a small worried sound.

"Please," She said quickly. He paused and turned to look back at her. She quickly moved to one side of the bed, pulling the blanket back. "Please stay, just for tonight." She asked. He stopped and looked to the door that led to the living room, then back to the bed. He puffed out a breath and pushed his hair back before speaking.

"Just for tonight."

@rdrbigbang

[hoodedguitarist]

Luminescence

Gif not miiinee Pairing: Qui-Gon Jinn x Jedi!Reader

Summary: You and Qui-Gon find yourselves on one of the lesser known, lesser visited planets. Having narrowly escaped a sudden attack from some raiders, you and your crew have landed on this serene and beautiful planet to make a few repairs and take a break before returning to Coruscant.

Warnings: Fluff, Mush, Kisses, Confessions, not held responsible for any cavities you may develop whilst/after reading this. :D

Notes: Apparently there’s a serious shortage of Qui-Gon x Reader fics?? This is what I heard. I’m doing my part, saving the fangirls and all. Qui-Gon is one of my absolute favorite characters but I can’t bring myself to write a smut thing for him. @chadillacboseman​ this is the best I can do. This is for you my dear <3 I hope you like it. Also, I just made this planet up on the fly. ALSO also, loosely based off of this beautiful poem. Can you tell I want to go to a bioluminescent bay? Cause I do. Ok I’ll shut up now.

--

The ship had been in a good enough condition to land properly. Luckily, none of the raiders had followed, but repairs were needed before you could continue.

“This planet is peaceful,” Qui-Gon assured you and the other two who were with you. “And I’m sure they will have the part that we need. It’s a simple enough task. Jado, Tyla?”

“We know what to look for and we know what we need,” Jado, the mechanic, answered. He gave a reassuring smile and a nod.

“Good. In that case, we will stay here with the ship,” Qui-Gon motioned to himself and you.

“Are you sure it’s safe enough to send them out on their own?” You asked gently. “Shouldn’t one of us go?”

“We can take care of it,” Tyla, the pilot, promised. “We don’t need the Jedi constantly watching over us, we’ve got our blasters and know how to use them,” she smirked.

“Clumsy and random,” you quipped back with a smile.

“Not in our hands,” Jado chuckled. He nudged Tyla. “Come on, let’s head out. We’ll try to be back before dark.”

The pilot and the mechanic made their way off the ship, and you and Qui-Gon were alone. You couldn’t help but be a little worried. You weren’t very familiar with this planet and had certainly never visited. He sensed your unease and stepped over to you, looking down into your eyes.

“It’s alright, my dear,” he assured, sliding a hand onto your shoulder. His touch comforted you and made a warmth spread through your chest. He gave you a knowing smile. “I told you, this planet is peaceful. My instincts tell me we won’t have any trouble.”

You raised a brow, amusement written on your face. “Qui, when are we not in trouble? This whole situation was caused because trouble found us. And don’t try to quell me with your sweet talk, it won’t work.”

You and Qui-Gon weren’t really together… You went on an awful lot of missions together, though, and you flirted a lot. It was mild when people were around but when you were alone, it always seemed a bit more serious. He always made your heart beat a touch faster and gave your stomach butterflies.

You were also at least half sure that his Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, could sense something between the two of you, but he never said anything. Obi wasn’t there, though… And the realization that you and Qui-Gon were alone together suddenly hung heavy in the air.

“I am not trying to quell you,” he had a soft laugh in his voice. “I would never try to do such a thing to you, I only mean to reassure you.”

“Well, perhaps I would feel better if I explored a little outside. I’ve always heard this place is beautiful at night but this is my first time being here.”

“Ynirro is known for its magical oceans and white beaches. If you want to explore, I will stay with the ship.”

“What’s so magical about the oceans?” You asked, genuinely curious. 

“When night falls, I will show you,” He had that look about him, that look that clearly said he knew something that you didn’t. It was mischievous, but endearing. “For now, stay in sight of the ship. I know the beach is close by, but wait for me. I wish to see it with you.”

“That’s very romantic of you, Master Qui-Gon,” you teased softly, placing your hand over his that still lay on your shoulder. His smile faded and was replaced with a more thoughtful look. Your chest tightened in slight panic. Did you say something wrong? Was that too much?

His features soon softened, though, and a gentle smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He lifted his thumb and ran it along your fingers, even going so far as to clasp your hand in his. His blue eyes locked earnestly with yours.

“Only for you,” his sincerity startled you a bit. Your heart began to race. He took your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it. “Go on, go do your exploring. I’ll be right here.”

“Alright…” You barely managed the word. It came out as more of a soft breath than an actual word. He had enraptured you and your skin now tingled pleasantly where his lips had touched. You took a step back but squeezed his hand gently one last time. He returned it before you both reluctantly let go.

When you finally made it outside you had a chance to take a breath and calm yourself down. Of course, the first thing that popped into your mind was the Jedi Council. They hung like a little grey cloud over your head, always watching, always wary. You and Qui-Gon were not like the other Jedi. The both of you followed the will of the Force more than the code, often going against the Council’s wishes at times. If they found out about this, they would not be pleased and you ran the risk of being kicked out.

You blinked and had found that your feet had already started walking while your brain went in another direction. Your eyes took in your surroundings, noticing the lush greenery of the forest and taking in the sweet scents of tropical flowers that bloomed around you. It was a paradise, that much was certain. You made a note to come back to Ynirro when you had free time, if only for a slight vacation… And maybe you wouldn’t be alone.

“What am I thinking?” You said softly to yourself. “Kai Adi-Mundi has four wives!” You shook your head. There was no way that you were going to let the council control that part of your life. You and Qui-Gon seemed to share a bond, even from the moment you first met. The both of you always knew what the other was thinking or feeling… Dare you even think that you shared a bond within the Force? That it led you both to each other?

Your heart leapt at the idea and you glanced back in the direction of the ship. You would try not to get your hopes up, however. You didn’t want to jump the gun, or blaster as it were. You were sure he was thinking through a few things as well with the time that he had. Instead, you turned and walked into another direction, letting your fingers ghost over the soft petals of a blue flower. The sun would be gone soon but it would give you both enough time to think before nightfall.

~*~

Twilight was fading and it had grown darker as you made your way back to the ship. A few lights were on and the platform was extended still. You smiled and adjusted your robes before heading up into the ship.

“Qui-Gon?” 

“There you are,” he turned, smiling at you. “Well, do you feel better now? More at peace?”

“I do. Not just with Ynirro but with a few other things that were on my mind as well.”

“I did the same while you were gone. Night has fallen but I would like to wait for Tyla and Jado to return-” A noise cut his sentence off and the both of you looked back to see the two in question come in.

“We got the part!” Jado said excitedly. “Tyla and I will get to work on it right away.”

“Take your time, don’t rush,” you said gently. “The ship must be fixed properly and if we have to stay here overnight, so be it.”

“I agree. A rushed job is often a poor one,” Qui-Gon said wisely.

“We’ll take our time,” Tyla promised. “We’ll get it done right and be back in Coruscant before you know it.”

“Well, we’re going to observe the beach. I hear the ocean is quite a sight to behold. When you two finish, come and join us. I promise you won’t be disappointed,” Qui-Gon put a gentle hand on the small of your back and you stood up a little straighter, your smile widening.

“We will! Have fun!” Tyla chirped before she began to rummage around in a box of tools.

You and Qui-Gon both headed out and into the warm night air. You couldn’t hide the excitement now that the two of you were alone. “I can’t wait!” You walked close to him, looking up at him. “What is it? Can you give me a hint? Is it creatures of some kind that live in the ocean?”

Qui-Gon tilted his head a little and smirked. “To a degree, yes,” he gave you a sideways glance. “But that is all I will tell you. Come, take my hand,” he stopped and held his hand out. Your eyes met and you smiled, sliding your hand into his. He laced your fingers together and led you through the bushes. You noticed that there was a faint blue glow coming from up ahead. You stayed close to him, your hand tightening in his with anticipation. The glow was calm, soft, and became brighter the closer you got to it.

Suddenly, the terrain changed beneath your feet and you noticed the white sands. You were at the shore line.

“Close your eyes,” Qui-Gon’s voice was right at your ear. You could feel his breath brush down your neck and it made your lips part. A soft breath left you and you turned to look up at him. The both of you were a mere inch away from each other. He smiled at you and let his eyes run over your face for a moment before his free hand came up. He pushed a stray strand back from your face and curled it behind your ear. His fingertips ghosted down the shell of your ear and down along your neck. “Close your eyes, love,” he whispered.

You nodded, licking your lips and taking a deep breath. Your eyes fluttered shut and you tightened your grip on his hand just a little. Your other hand came up and you placed it on his arm. There was the sound of leaves being pushed apart and Qui-Gon tugged you gently in his direction. You stepped forward, being careful of the sudden thickness of the sand. You could feel that you were actually on the beach now, having cleared the tree-line. 

Qui-Gon carefully lead you further and further until he stopped and you stopped with him.

“Alright, open your eyes,” he whispered. You did as you were told and what you saw made your jaw drop and your eyes widen.

The ocean waters of Ynirro were shimmering with beautiful blue lights. It was as if the stars had fallen and landed in the waters, making the oceans their new home. As the waves rolled up onto the white sandy shores, the lights brightened when the water stirred them, and then they calmed again when they floated back into the sea.

“Qui-Gon…” Your voice was breathless with awe, your eyes transfixed on the enchanting sight before you. In all your years of being a Jedi, all the places it had taken you, you had never seen something so beautiful.

“Microscopic bioluminescent creatures. They live in the oceans and soak up the sun's rays during the day, then put the stars to shame at night,” he explained.

You were enraptured by the sight before you… 

And Qui-Gon was enraptured by you. 

The way the lights bathed you in a soft blue glow. It shined in your hair, on your face, in your eyes. He was taken with the sight of you and loved to see you in such pure wonder.

Your senses pricked at you lightly and you blinked, turning your gaze away from the sight, only to see Qui-Gon already looking at you. You felt a blush try to crawl up your neck, but you smiled and laughed softly. “Qui, this is the most… Amazing thing I’ve ever seen. It’s so beautiful.”

“It is… Beautiful…” His voice was soft and his eyes never left yours. Your hands were still clasped. You stood side by side, both bathed in the glow. He turned to face you and his hand came up again, cupping your cheek. His calloused thumb ran across your cheek bone and you gave a soft in-take of breath.

“Qui-Gon...” His name was a plea on your lips, a soft begging lilt as you leaned into his touch. You placed your hand over his and your eyes darted to his lips. That was all the indication he needed. The Jedi Master leaned down and captured your lips in a slow, loving kiss. 

Your eyes shut and you leaned into the kiss, a peace settling over you. It was as if this kiss was the last missing peace, the last thing that was needed to solidify the bond growing between you. You wrapped your hand gently around his wrist, rubbing your thumb along the back of his hand that still cupped your cheek. He let go of your hand in favor of sliding it around the curve of your waist and pulling you closer.

It felt like your heart had grown wings, like it wanted to flutter out of your chest. Your free hand slid along the back of his neck and into his long hair. There was no space left between the two of you. Qui-Gon had pulled you flush against him and he had deepened the kiss. Your lips moved slowly against each other, savoring the moment and every feeling. You were sure you’d never been kissed so passionately and so lovingly in your life.

He pulled back, only barely, and your eyes opened and met again.

“I love you,” he admitted. “I cannot hide it any longer and I don’t care what the Council thinks.”

“The Council doesn't need to know,” you answered without missing a beat. “They are already in our lives too much. They already root around in matters that should not concern them.”

Qui-Gon smiled at this and rubbed his nose against yours. “Then this will be ours. This moment, this love, this bond we share, it is ours and is of no concern to anyone else.”

“Except perhaps Obi-Wan,” you teased softly. Qui-Gon chuckled, low and warm.

“He is clever, but I trust him. If he does know or if he figures out, I know he will keep our secret safe.”

“Good…” You rested your forehead against his, running your fingers gently through the loose part of his hair. “I love you Qui-Gon…” You whispered. 

He ran his fingers through your hair and pulled you close again, kissing you deeply while you bathed in the celestial glow of the luminescent waves.

Yeah, I’m soft and cryin a little, not gonna lie. We’re all just gonna pretend Qui-Gon lives and yall live happily ever after, training Anakin and Obi-Wan and Anakin grows up with a stable father figure in his life and doesn’t turn to the dark side. Palps gets OUTED like the trash he is and Anakin and Padme have lil Luke and Leia and You and Qui-Gon become like the most awesome grandparents in the galaxy. THE END 

*takes a deep breath*

Thanks for reading everyone! I headcanon that Qui-Gon is on some serious romantic level shit. Like that man will make you feel loved, give you all the passion, and make sure you feel it deep down in your soul.

As always, if you wanna be added to the tags list just shoot me a message! Inbox/asks is always open. If I hit 200 followers I’ll do some drabble requests. Never done that before, sounds fun and chaotic. I’m here for it!

Tagslist:  @the-grey-jedi @hayley-the-comet  @pinkiemme @swordandstar​ @chadillacboseman​

[bat-burrito]

Day 6 of Entrapdak Positivity Month is Repairs. I’ve got nothing to say about this one!

You can also read below the cut!

“I told you, I’ve got it under control. Please, just leave me alone.” It was unlike her to snap at him, but he didn’t take it personally. She was stressed and upset, and while he hated that she wouldn’t let him help her, he understood her reasoning. While she’d never said it, he knew she didn’t trust anyone else to work on Emily; she’d always rejected any offer he’d made to assist in the bot’s maintenance.

However...There had been a lab explosion two days ago due to a few numerical errors, and Emily had darted in front of Entrapta to keep her safe. The maneuver had saved Entrapta from severe injury, but the damage to Emily was extensive.

Entrapta had not left the bot’s side nor slept since. No matter what she tried, she had been unable to get Emily’s system back online. While they both knew Entrapta could easily replace the core processor, it would mean that the...personality, for lack of a better word, that Emily had developed over the years would be gone.

Giving Entrapta her space, Hordak watched sympathetically from the distance as his partner reconnected the primary wires for what had to be the hundredth time. Both of their breaths caught as Emily’s “eye” lit up, but it was barely a flash before the pink glow dimmed to darkness once again. Entrapta finally broke. She did not cry- in fact, her expression barely changed at all, but Hordak noticed her tensed shoulders slacken, and how she let her hex driver drop to the ground. Wordlessly, she stood and left the lab with her head hung low.

Hordak knew she would want to be alone, at least for a while. He could finally take matters into his own hands. He grabbed his tools and got to work.

Emily may have been Entrapta’s bot, but she was Hordak’s design. He popped open her shell, looking for her serial number to locate the date he’d first constructed her. Entrapta had spent the last few years improving her, but Hordak knew the history. He’d built, maintained, and repaired all of the “Emily models” with his own hands for over a decade. He could fix her. He had to fix her.

***************

Entrapta’s jaw dropped as she entered the lab the next morning. “Emily!” she shrieked, running towards her. Emily beeped enthusiastically as Entrapta approached. “Is that really you?” Emily chirruped in her strange, electronic way and spun around, although one of her legs glitched just a bit. “Oh, it is you!” Entrapta threw her arms and hair around Emily, squeezing tightly.

Hordak smiled fondly at them. His back ached from hunching over Emily’s intricate system all night, but the look on Entrapta’s face made it all worth it. Once she had done a thorough inspection of her beloved robot, Entrapta ran over to him. “Hordak! How did you do it?!” she demanded, eyes sparkling.

His ears flicked down, shy from the attention. “Ah, I...I went through my data files from the year that Emily’s fleet was built. The process for rebooting the bots from that batch had a glitch, but I found my old documents for the workaround. So I was able to-” he was cutoff as Entrapta pulled him down by the collar into a forceful, yet welcome kiss.

“Thank you,” she whispered before she released him. She tugged him over to Emily. “And Emily thanks you too! Will you show me how you did it?” Entrapta asked, looking at him as though he ought to be admired. “Just in case…”

He smiled at her softly. “Anything you wish.”

[elen-aranel]

Golden/Alone

The Engineer’s Adventures

1-1 • 1-2 • 2 • 3 • 4

For: @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday. I am aware that today is Thursday; this was longer than I expected! Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: violence, references to violence, drug use (kind of), minor character death WC: 7.3k words Tag list: @jusvibbbin - to be added to my Pike x Reader Taglist please let me know <3 A/N: The Engineer is back! And why does she go on away missions? WHY? I genuinely had so much fun writing this. I hope you enjoy!

“If I were piloting, Number One, I would have flown us through the eye of that storm cell. We would have gotten here quicker,” Chris jokes to Number One as they unstrap themselves from the co-pilot and pilot’s seats, respectively.

“And that is precisely why I was flying and not you, Captain. We may have been slower, but I got us here in one piece.”

“Lieutenant, back me up here. My flying was great in that speeder on Eloma.”

“You kept us ahead of our pursuers, yes sir,” you say with a smile.

“And staying ahead of pursuers is not a valuable skill in an atmosphere like this one where we are not being pursued,” Number One states with some finality, as she presses the control to open the back of the shuttle and extend the ramp.

You are on Caylara, for what you hope will be a boring mission. The captain and Number One, along with security officer Ensign James, are here to open negotiations for Caylara to join the Federation.

You are here because of the atmosphere – it is notoriously difficult to traverse. You can’t transport living things through it, unless you want them to be merged, dead, or both, and even flying through it is a challenge because of the electrical storm layers. There are windows of time when it’s safer, when shuttles and communications can get through, and windows when they can’t.

At Louvier’s instruction you had prepared a shuttle (and a backup – you don’t like to take chances) to travel through the atmosphere. Standard procedure for Caylara was to have an engineer accompany the shuttle to perform any repairs needed on the ground. You had tried to argue your preparations were good enough that you wouldn’t be needed, but Chris had seen straight through you.

“You find diplomacy boring and you don’t want a repeat of Eloma. That’s what’s really going on here, isn’t it?” His mouth had twisted into that smile you found irresistible, and even though you pouted, adopting your best puppy-dog expression, he had just laughed. “It’s all right. I won’t make you go to the reception. I won’t even make you wear your dress uniform. You can stay with the shuttle.”

You hang back as the captain and Ensign James pass you, Chris brushing his hand against yours as he passes. You smile a little, and get your tricorder out – you need to check to make sure the shuttle didn’t get damaged and will be all right to make the return trip. You look down the ramp as you scan, seeing the Caylarans for the first time as their delegation greets the away team.

They are very tall. You estimate the shortest is well over two metres and they tower above the away team, even over Ensign James who is tall for a human. But given the slightly lower gravity of Caylara their height isn’t surprising, you think. They have skin varying from very pale through to olive toned. Their faces are smooth but they have scales around their hairline extending down to the rest of their bodies. Well, their hands, at least. They are wearing long robes.

Your tricorder beeps as the away team starts to move away; there seems to be a charge buildup in one of the EPS controllers, but that’s all and it’s an easy fix. You pop the relevant panel and discharge it, without shocking yourself for once, and replace the panel.

Then there’s nothing left to do but wait. The reception is due to last two, perhaps three hours – short enough that you’ll be able to make your return trip through the atmosphere with time to spare before the current window closes.

You’ve brought some reading, of course, but first you want to get to the bottom of why the EPS controller picked up a charge. You take it as a personal insult, really – you were sure you had accounted for everything from the data you were given to prepare. However, when you compare the preliminary data with the scans the shuttle took as it went through the atmosphere you can clearly see the discrepancies. You’re puzzled for a moment – but of course you had enhanced the sensors to the latest specs when you adapted the shuttle, and you don’t know how old the original readings you were working with were. You almost wish Chris had piloted you through the storm cell; then you would have more data to work with.

You busy yourself combining the shuttle’s readings with your existing model, and calculating how much it was off by. After some time you are pretty sure you’ve got to the bottom of where the charge came from, and you modify the shuttle so that it doesn’t happen again.

You also think you may be able to make predictions with your new model, and perhaps refine your timings for the atmospheric windows. The Caylarans know the timings pretty accurately, but you aren’t at the stage of sharing data on that level as yet.

You run a new set of scans, and frown – there’s only ninety minutes until the window closes. You compare with the original estimates and—

Hang on. When did it get so late? You were supposed to be on the way back by now.

“Shuttle Hubble to away team? Come in please?”

Silence.

“Shuttle Hubble to Captain Pike?”

More silence.

Silence when you try to call Number One and James, too.

“Enterprise to Hubble. Come in, please.”

“Shuttle Hubble here, Lieutenant Spock. I was just about to call you – I have lost contact with the rest of the away team. They should have been back here by now, but they aren’t.”

“I have also tried to contact the captain but to no avail. Three unknown craft have appeared in the system, and have locked weapons on to us and the planet. They are not responding to hails. I have placed the Enterprise on yellow alert and raised shields. We cannot get a sensor lock on individual life signs through the atmosphere, and—”

“They’re firing some sort of energy weapon!”

“Taking evasive action!”

“Lieutenant, I—” Spock sounds uncharacteristically strained as he’s interrupted by what sounds like an overloading console.

“I understand. I’ll look for them. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Enterprise out.”

That’s it, you think.

You’re on your own.

You take a deep breath: what do you need? Communicator. Tricorder. Emergency medkit.

Phaser.

You put the medkit in a backpack, and since there’s space you add a water bottle and some emergency rations. You clip the tricorder to a utility belt, and holster the phaser, set to stun. Your communicator goes in your pants pocket; you’ve got your usual tools in your jacket.

Then you remember your terrible luck with communicators, so you grab a spare and shove it in your backpack. That should do it. You can’t carry the kitchen sink and you don’t have time to keep second guessing yourself.

Okay. Plan: find the away team, bring them to safety.

You exit the shuttle and shut the ramp – you don’t need strangers damaging it.

You take in your surroundings next. The shuttle has landed in the grounds of a large building, elevated on a hill in the middle of a city. It’s only three or four storeys high, but quite wide, and you think it extends back a long way. There are decorative metal accents spaced at regular intervals – lightning conductors, you realise, as you head toward the most important looking doorway – you see burnt grass at their bases. This building isn’t tall, but it is the tallest around; the atmosphere must affect Caylaran architecture, you think.

There’s no one around, which surprises you; shouldn’t there be guards?

You push the door and it opens with a whisper. Inside is the most ornate room you have ever been in. The walls are gold coloured stone, there are dozens of columns in mottled golden marble, and there are decorations finished with real gold leaf everywhere. There are bronze statues and hundreds of warm coloured lights. The ceiling is as decorated as the walls, and the whole effect is beautiful. Imposing. Stunning. Overwhelming.

But again, no one is here. You get your tricorder out, but you can’t resolve anything. Perhaps something is blocking the scan? You look at the stairs. The steps are high, designed with Caylarans in mind, and go up before dividing. There are flights down, too. There are corridors to the left and right, and you have to take a moment to weigh all your options. The largest doors are ahead, though, up the main staircase and over. Perhaps that’s where you would take guests that you wanted to impress?

You think back to what you read on Caylara in your mission briefing as you climb the stairs. Their head of state is Crown Princess Nanren, but although the title remains the same, a princess many generations ago passed laws to end the hereditary monarchy. Now a new crown prince or princess is elected for life when the previous one dies, and you think they have an elected senate too.

Beyond that, you don’t really know anything, you think as you reach the top of the stairs. You cross the landing, trying to stay aware of your surroundings. And as you look down the stairs, you lock eyes with the first person you’ve seen.

A guard is sitting on the ground next to the doors. He’s armed, and the stairs in front of him show signs of having been fired on. But he’s slumped back, his green-blue swirled eyes staring up at you.

“Why’s it so dark? I can see you in the dark. Why did you bring the dark with you? You shouldn’t—” he tries to lift his weapon, and you draw your phaser, but his head lolls and he closes his eyes, dropping the weapon in front of him.

That was unsettling.

You proceed slowly down the stairs, but he doesn’t move again. You kick his weapon away and get your tricorder out. You’re not a medic, this isn’t a medical tricorder, and you don’t know much about Caylaran physiology, but you do have field medic training and you can see that something is terribly wrong. You scan him, and then the air. It seems like there are traces of a molecule around that your tricorder program flags up as having features in common with known hallucinogens. It didn’t flag up on your general scan so it’s probably dissipated enough that it won’t affect you, but still you wish you’d put on an EV suit. There’s no time to second guess yourself now, though.

You put the tricorder away in favour of the phaser, and you gently push the next door open.

If you thought the foyer was large, this room is even larger. It’s all gold again, and should be as beautiful, but it looks like there’s been a fight in here and furniture is in haphazard piles on the floor. It makes you think of playing forts with your cousins in your grandparents’ house as a child. You’re not a strategist but you can easily see that these piles aren’t much better than that – they provide barely any cover.

You pick your way over gilded chairs and past carved wooden tables inlaid with gold, keeping an eye out. About a quarter of the way into the room, under a table with two chairs on top you see a Caylaran. She looks young, wearing what looks like it could be a staff uniform – it’s a plain warm toned brown dress with an embroidered hem, far less fancy than the delegates who had welcomed the others of your team. She’s staring straight ahead, hugging her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth. She pays you no attention as you kneel down by her.

“What’s your name?” You ask, softly.

“My name is Lararen and I’m going to kill the queen, going to kill the queen, going to kill the queen. My name is Lararen and I’m going to kill the queen, then the Genai are going to kill me.”

She smiles broadly as she finishes her little song, still staring vacantly straight ahead, and you shudder. You shake her shoulder and she blinks, slowly, but she doesn’t move.

You straighten up, thoughtfully, wondering what the Genai are. Some sort of bogeyman, or an alien race? Not that it matters.

Next you find a pair of guards, asleep, holding hands. You move their weapons out of sight and continue through.

But then you find a dead Caylaran. He looks like someone important, but his red robe embroidered with a golden floral patten has a scorch mark right in the middle of his chest. You’re not sure if that killed him, because there’s a pool of blood beneath him too. Either way, you think as you close his grey-purple eyes, he probably didn’t deserve whatever it was. You take a moment to pay your respects before moving on.

You don’t find any more dead bodies in this room, but you find several more Caylarans, either sleeping or talking nonsense. One male asks you where your flowers are, and tries to give you some from a fallen flower arrangement, but most of the rest are just scared.

You think they probably have good cause, as you push another door open. You pick it because the largest number of guards were close to it, so you figure it probably leads somewhere important.

It leads on to a stair well, small but lavishly decorated with tapestries, depicting Caylarans standing in outdoor scenes, sometimes with animals you don’t recognise. They deaden the sound of your footsteps as you climb the tall stone stairs.

Then two things happen: you pause as you notice one of the hangings is moving a little at the bottom, as though in a breeze. And then you hear voices above you.

“She’s not up here,” says a female voice, annoyed. Lucid.

“Well she’s definitely not down there.” The second voice is male. Defensive. “I’ve got a message from Alara. She wants us to look again.”

“Fine. But I want it noted for the record that this is a waste of time,” the first voice says, sounding suddenly quieter – she’s probably passed through a doorway.

“Like anyone cares, Nerela,” the second voice says. You risk a peek up the stairwell. You don’t get a good look as the second person disappears through the door, but they are definitely not Caylaran – he has blue skin.

You lean against a tapestry. There are aliens here, separate from your away team. There are aliens in orbit, too. The odds are good that they’re the same species. And “she” must be the crown princess. But what are they planning?

Regardless, you still need to find your people. It’s been half an hour; you could get back to the shuttle faster if you went straight there, but there isn’t much time left in this window.

You eye the tapestry again. You’re definitely not going to follow the aliens, and this breeze must be coming from somewhere. You push it aside.

This door is the first plain thing you’ve seen in the building. It stands slightly ajar – hence the breeze – and it’s painted beige to match the stonework, but otherwise it’s featureless. It swings as quietly as all the other doors when you push it, but it has some kind of bolt on the other side. Interesting. You try to work it, but you can’t. You think of the tools in your jacket; you could probably figure it out, but no. There’s no time. You push the door to, making sure it’s as shut as it can be, and continue.

You must have entered the service part of the building, you think, as you walk along a corridor. This is functional and plain, like the door. You feel a little more comfortable here; if you’d been interested in fancy, you would have joined the command track. Or Diplomatic Corps. You get your tricorder out again, but it doesn’t show you anything still and you didn’t expect it to. But then you approach a door, and hear whimpering from the other side.

You have your hand on your phaser as you push the door open. It’s dark compared to the rest of the building; there is a small window but there’s not much light coming through the Caylaran atmosphere right now. You take a moment to let your eyes adjust, then head toward the whimpering.

The room is small; some kind of office, perhaps? There’s a desk in the room, and behind it—

“Number One?” She’s crying. Number One is sitting on the floor crying, hair a mess, dress uniform dirty, cradling Ensign James in her lap.

You can barely believe it, but you squat down, reaching for your tricorder. You can see James breathing, at least. You look around, but Chris isn’t anywhere to be seen.

“Number One?” You scan them both. They both have traces of the drug in their systems, but a lot less than the guard you scanned earlier. As your eyes adjust you can see though that James has hit his head; there’s blood in his hair and on Una’s uniform. He’s also been hit by a energy discharge, but to the side.

“Una? What’s wrong?”

“I failed everyone. I didn’t protect my captain. What first officer doesn’t protect her captain? They’re going to throw me in the brig. They’re going to court martial me. I lost my captain, and he’s dead, I—”

Suddenly you’ve had enough. You slap her, hard. “Number One!”

“Lieutenant! What did you just—”

“Oh my goodness! I’m sorry, I—you—” You breathe. “Are you all right?” You strip your backpack off for your medkit. You’re going to need to try to bring Ensign James round.

“I—I’m not sure. I don’t know what happened; everything was normal and then suddenly it wasn’t. I was so scared, Lieutenant. It was—I can still feel it. But it doesn’t feel like me.” She shakes her head, eyes still a little wide, and you pass her the water bottle. She takes a drink as you inject Ensign James with a hypospray. He starts stirring immediately, which is good, but you still think he needs a proper exam to rule out any brain problems.

“Una, you’ve got fifteen minutes to get back to the shuttle with Ensign James. There are alien ships attacking the Enterprise, and I’ve seen aliens here too. I think they may be called the Genai. You go down the corridor, down the stairs, through the big room, through the foyer, and out. Do you think you can do that?”

“Back to the shuttle. Genai.” She shakes her head again, blinking a few times. She squares her shoulders. “Yes, I think so. I can. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to find the captain. You can tell the computer to run on autopilot, if you need to – I updated the climate model, so the computer should be able to handle it.”

Together you help Ensign James to his feet.

“Do you have your communicator still?”

“I don’t,” James is still groggy as he pats himself down.

“I do,” Number One brings her communicator out and opens it. “Number One to Enterprise, come in please.”

Static.

“I think there’s a blocking field throughout this building. The tricorder isn’t working for some things either. You’d better get going.”

“Good luck, Lieutenant.”

“Thanks. You too, Commander.”

You put your medkit away as Number One and James leave. You’re relieved that they’re both okay, and you’re confident in Una, now she recognises her fear isn’t hers.

Back in the corridor you check the door to make sure Una shut it. You push it, but it’s locked. Weird. You could probably unlock it, but you don’t want to go that way anyway.

You turn your back on the door and continue along the corridor. Number One had said the captain – had said Chris – was dead. But he can’t be. She wasn’t, and you think she only had blood from Ensign James on her uniform. But... what if he is?

If he is, you do your duty as a Starfleet officer first. Find his body. Survive. Get out of here. Then mourn him second.

You pass three locked doors on the corridor, but the last opens to more stairs. Still functional, but just going down this time. You go down, listening, hand on you phaser.

Back on the ground floor – you think, but it could be a mezzanine level – there are several rooms that are open.

You go into the first one, hand still on your phaser. It’s a bedroom, and there’s a Caylaran male cowering in the corner, wearing the service uniform.

“Have you come to end it?” He asks, staring past you. You don’t answer, but your heart aches; you think he means his life. The next room is empty, bed neatly made up.

You listen at the door to the third room, and you think you hear breathing. You push the door open slowly. You don’t see anyone at first, but as you head into the room you see the edge of a gold robe, protruding out of what must the en-suite. You think you’re getting a feel for Caylaran fashion, and this is easily the fanciest thing you’ve seen so far. The robe is made of gold fabric, whereas all the others you’ve seen have been colours embroidered with gold. This one has gold and silver embroidery, and multicoloured gemstones picking out the centres of the flowers.

“Crown Princess Nanren?” Your pitch your voice low. Gentle. You remember how Chris spoke to you on Earth in the past, when you were panicking, and try to convey that calm, that confidence, to her. And in that moment you know you can no longer focus on looking for him. If this is the crown princess, more hinges on you looking after her.

“Crown Princess? I’m a Lieutenant from the Enterprise. From Starfleet – the Federation. I’m not a dream or a nightmare. I’m here to help. Will you come out?”

“The Genai are here. They’re going to kill me. I—I can’t—”

“We will find somewhere you can call your people. I will look after you. We will call in your people and they will deal with the Genai.” General Order One doesn’t apply here, you think. Not if the Genai are already interfering. Not that you care about diplomacy anyway. You’ll do what’s right now, and face the consequences later.

“I don’t—Why aren’t they here already?”

“I don’t know, Crown Princess. But we will figure it out. Please trust me.” You put all your belief into your tone, all the hope you still have left... and she steps forward.

She looks every bit the princess. She is tall, even compared to the other Caylara you’ve seen, and her dress is as exquisite as you expected from the tiny part you’d seen. You wonder, briefly, how many she has like that and how many months, perhaps years, it took to sew. She has a gauzy golden cloak hanging behind her, also embroidered, and her dark hair is braided and pinned up into an elaborate style. The only things that are not Princess-like about her are her purple-blue swirled eyes. They are wide, and anxious.

You recall your briefing notes, and bow. “Princess,” you say, staring at the floor.

“Arise,” she replies, and there’s the ghost of a command tone there. Good.

You straighten, looking up at her again, and pause. This is not how you dress if you might need to make a run for it.

You exhale, surveying the room. It’s a bedroom – a staff bedroom.

“Princess, I can get you out of this, I think. But first... you need to change.”

You find staff robes in the wardrobe that fit her, even if they’re a touch short. And sensible shoes. You have to sit her on the bed to take her hair down, but, you reflect with a little smile that she can’t see, taking her pins out is not unlike taking tiny components out of a circuit board.

“You get used to it, you know,” she says as she stands after you’ve finished. “The pomp and ceremony. The robes. People expect it of their princess, and you get used to it.”

“They are lovely,” you say, following her gaze to where her robes are hung up. “But we should get moving. Where can we call your people?”

“That sort of thing is in the wing on the other side of the Room of State,” she says. Right. The other side of that big room. Of course. And there’s a locked door between you and it.

Even so you retrace your steps. She’s much faster up the stairs than you, and you think bad thoughts about differing alien physiologies. But then, she would find the chairs on the Enterprise a bit small, you think. And the beds.

Soon you’re on the corridor with the door at the end, and you finger your jacket’s zipper as you get closer – it’s time for you to brush off your lock-picking skills. You hope the lock is easy like the ones on Eloma.

But the princess pushes the door and it opens with a whisper.

You can’t say anything. But you thank your lucky stars for small favours.

“Let me,” you say, as you approach the bottom of the stairwell. “If anything happens, go back the way we came.” You look the princess in the eye and she nods.

You crack the door open the tiniest bit, and you hear a voice.

You turn back to the princess, reach out and take her hand. You know it isn’t protocol but you squeeze gently, feeling the scales on her skin and a ring round her finger, hoping the touch will keep her calm.

You push the door open again.

“—everywhere. Yes. Me personally. I don’t care what you—yes I know scanners aren’t working. I wish you hadn’t got voice comms back. But she’s not here; she must be on your floor. Fine, Nerela. She could be in the south wing. No don’t come down here, you idiot. Go round. Ugh. Put Yaima on. Yes tell Nerela she’s being a pain. No, they’re still with our vessel, so she can’t be in the garden. It’s the storm cycle; of course we can’t—To the East, yes. I’ll see you there. But tell Nerela she’s done after this. No I don’t care. Alara out.”

You hear footsteps stalking down the room, getting closer. Your heart is in your mouth, one hand on your phaser, as you hold your breath. The steps falter slightly... and then they continue. You stay frozen until you can’t hear them anymore, then you give it a minute after that before you move the door.

The Room of State has changed since you saw it last; almost all the furniture has been pushed to the sides of the room, apart from a chair cushion in the middle of the floor; that’s what made Alara miss her step.

You take a step forward, and the princess follows, still holding your hand. She gasps, and you follow her gaze; at the end of the room are rows of Caylarans, lying on the floor. You look around, but the coast seems clear. You take your tricorder out one-handed, and you scan them. From here you can pick out their life signs – they may be unconscious but they’re still alive.

“They’re okay. They aren’t dead. Probably stunned with an energy weapon.” You feel the princess relax, and you drop her hand. “We can take care of them later. You need to show me where to go.”

She nods, and you follow her across the room and through the door on the other side. You have time to check on the way across: Number One and James aren’t there. Neither is the captain.

The stairwell on the other side is like the first, except this has paintings rather than tapestries, and your footsteps are louder as you climb.

“I don’t know who any of them are,” the princess says, looking at the paintings on your way up. “I suppose I should, but... they’re not my ancestors, I suppose. Just... predecessors. In a way.”

You resist the impulse to shush her.

On this stairwell a painting opens to the service corridor. You take the lead going through, but the corridor is empty. And when the princess shuts the door, you hear its lock click.

You walk along the corridor, listening carefully, but you can’t hear any signs of life. You have to hustle to keep up with the princess, but you push a couple of doors as you pass them. They’re both locked.

The stairs down at the other end of the corridor carry on further than they do on the other side, and your calves are beginning to ache when you reach the bottom. Your discomfort doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. It’s cooler down here, and you think you must be underground. Some kind of bunker.

“My real office is in my suite. My ceremonial office is downstairs, but this”—she opens the second door you reach—“is for emergencies.”

The office is dark as you go in, but she presses a control and it lights up. You close the door behind you and look around. Unlike the other rooms off the service corridors, this one is lavish once again. The wallpaper has gilded highlights, and the desk is made of a golden brown hardwood and is intricately carved. There’s no window since you’re underground, but the light fittings are made of bronze and remind you of the statues in the foyer. You realise the room is probably this nice in case the princess needs to do an emergency broadcast – her surroundings will still look the part.

The princess sits at the desk, pressing her palm to a sensor. A computer apparatus lifts up, and she enters some commands. You walk round the desk and stand a little way to her side, as a Caylaran man appears on the screen. His expression is blank, confused.

“Is this some kind of joke? At such a time? Using Princess Nanren’s—wait—”

He frowns, tips his head to one side.

“Your highness, is—is that you? The Genai—we were sure they’d killed you. That’s what they said. And the blocking field is on so we couldn’t scan—we had no idea—I—” He closes his eyes and bows his head.

“I am so sorry, your highness. I didn’t want to risk your people on a dangerous mission with no intelligence if you were already dead. But I should have trusted in you, and not believed the Genai without proof.”

Staff robe or not, Crown Princess Nanren straightens up and looks every bit the princess once again.

“Arise. Guard Leader Daymen, I am glad to see you. Please do not apologise; the time for analysing our decisions and learning from this situation is not yet here. First I must survive, and you must take back the palace. The Genai are still here; they have a vessel in the garden and people throughout the palace. Our people have been drugged; most are in the Room of State, but there are likely others dispersed through the palace.”

“They have three vessels in orbit too, I think,” you say, quietly.

“They have vessels in orbit too, although”—she presses a control, and a little data window appears—“they won’t be able to send any reinforcements through the atmosphere for a few more hours. What do you need to retake the building?”

“I will bring my guards now, highness. If you could turn the blocking field off it would make things safer, but—no. You are the most important. Enact the safe-room protocol, and remain where you are until we secure the building.”

“I may be able to lower the blocking field. But I shall keep safe. Do you have any news of our Federation guests?”

“Their shuttle left before the window closed. I was unable to talk to their ship at that time, but...” his expression goes thoughtful. “We use a limited range of communication frequencies. The Genai in orbit could have blocked them.”

You nod to yourself; the Caylaran frequencies had been in your briefing, and they were very different to Federation ones. The blocking field in the Palace was wide-band, but it would take too much power for a block like that over a bigger area. Much more sensible to just block the Caylaran frequencies.

“Thank you. May the skies protect you, Guard Leader.”

“May the skies protect you, highness.” He bows once again and cuts the connection.

“Lieutenant, thank you for all you have done for me so far. May I ask this last favour?”

“To take down the field? Of course, your highness. What do I need to do?”

She slides a ring off her finger and hands it to you. It’s a very narrow band of gold with a small red stone set on it. It’s big for you, though, so you slip it on to your thumb.

“You can use that to gain access to the systems. The security office is down the corridor to the right.”

“Lock the door behind me, your highness.” You smile as you turn to go.

“May the skies protect you, Lieutenant.”

“And you too.” You go through the door, closing it behind you. You hear a loud thunk a moment after you do; it sounds like more than a lock – probably blast doors. At least she’s safe, you think. Even if that means you’re alone.

You wonder about Chris, and where he could be. You have to hold on to hope, don’t you? You can’t think... no. You mustn’t. Instead you think about what he would do in your place. You think he’d be cautious. You’re nearly at your goal, but if you don’t succeed people could get hurt if the Caylaran Guard can’t tell who is who, or where they are. You’ve heard people complain about security officers being trigger happy; you think it’s probably the same for the Guard.

And you’re in a strategically important part of the palace; you don’t know how many Genai there are but they’ll probably find this area eventually. You draw your phaser, and make sure you walk quietly.

There is only one door left between you and where the corridor splits, when you hear a voice. The door opens a little, and you freeze. The voice is familiar – one of the Genai.

“—last time, no. I genuinely, and I am completely sincere on this, do not care what Alara thinks. Not even a tiny little bit! She missed this entire section! Yeah whatever, Yaima, you go tell her what I said. But when I find the Queen—Crown Princess, whatever, and she doesn’t, she’s the one that’ll get fired, not me! Nerela out!”

The door slams open, and Nerela stomps out. It’s her or you, but you are ready and she is not. Her black eyes widen as she sees you, and her weapon is in hand, but before she can aim you shoot. She grunts as she falls back, stunned.

Happily, Genai are shorter than Caylarans, although Nerela is wearing high heeled boots which make her look taller. You drag her back into the room she came out of, take her weapon and communicator and leave her lying in the recovery position. You shut the door behind you and it clicks a second later.

You shake your head; the doors are one mystery too many. You put Nerela’s weapon in your phaser holster, and tuck her communicator into your belt. Then you head to the right, toward the security office.

The first thing you notice as you push the door open are the screens. Dozens of them. The second—

“Chris?” He’s frowning, pointing a phaser at you. He looks at you like he can’t believe his eyes. Like you’ve stepped out of a nightmare.

“Chris it’s me. I’m real. I’m really here.” You take a careful step through the doorway, keeping eye contact with his bloodshot blue eyes, letting the door close behind you.

“You don’t need to be afraid any more.” You think about what Number One had said. “This fear... it isn’t really you.” You stoop down and put your phaser on the floor. You take Nerela’s weapon and put that on the floor too. And as you do, something clicks into place in your mind.

“Chris, you’ve been helping me, haven’t you? Locking doors to keep me safe? To help me get where I needed to go?”

“I’ve been so... afraid. I—I needed to keep her—to keep you safe.” He relaxes his grip on his phaser a little, and you reach for your tricorder.

“You were drugged, Chris.” You scan him. “Number One and James are safe, they got a lower dose than you.” A much lower dose, you realise, looking at the numbers. “I sent them back to the shuttle and they returned to the Enterprise. I’m going to end all this, get us home. But I need you to stop pointing that phaser at me.”

He looks at his hand, holding the phaser, then back at you.

“But is she—are you real?”

Your heart melts for him. You haven’t said these words, but you’ve felt it for a while. And—you worried, you genuinely worried, that you would never get to say them. This may not be the moment you planned, but he has to believe you.

“Chris, I love you. I’m real.”

“I—” he drops the phaser, and it clatters to the floor. The next thing you know you’re in front of him, arms around him, holding him. You can’t think; you can speak. You just hold on, letting your body feel his warmth, his solidity. You may not have been drugged, but you had been so afraid

. After a moment he puts his arms around you, too, and you just stay there for a moment more. Holding him. Letting him hold you.

As much as you’d like to forget everything else right now, you still have a job to do. You pull back, take hold of his hand, and look at the security console. You can see feeds of the Room of State, the foyer, the other rooms you’ve been in, and other places, too. Beneath the monitors is a schematic; this is how Chris was locking and unlocking the doors, you realise. But how did he have the credentials to do so?

You look at the desk and see a ring like the one the Crown Princess gave you, nestled in a groove.

“How did you get that?” You ask.

Chris frowns. “I was in that big room, but I was so afraid. I came through the door. Went upstairs. Along the corridors. Looking for somewhere safe enough. I got here and the Caylaran... we struggled, he tried to shoot but I took his weapon.” You follow his gaze to an energy weapon on the ground. “Then he ran. And I stayed. I could see everything. Not get caught out. And then I saw you.”

You squeeze his hand, and work the controls with your other hand. There is a glyph that looks like a shield; you turn it off. You check your tricorder – finally you can detect life signs. Both Caylaran and Genai. As you do, Nerela’s communicator chirrups to life.

“Nerela? I swear, if this was you—! You have the worst timing! The Caylaran guard are here. Put the blocking field back up immediately. That’s an order! Nerela? Nerela, answer me! Ne—”

It lapses into static for a moment. Then silence.

“The Guard are here, Chris. As soon as the atmosphere clears we can go home.”

*

When you return to the Enterprise you go to the captain’s quarters. You know he won’t be there, but you need the sense of his presence. His smell.

Chris had to stay on the planet to complete the original negotiations and help deal with the Genai; the drug’s effects had faded by the time the atmosphere was passable again, and you’d got some water and rations into him. Spock came down and stayed, but you had only left Chris because he ordered you to.

You have a shower, put on one of his sleep shirts, and curl up on the sofa under his throw blanket to write your report.

*

“Sweetheart?” You wake up to Chris kneeling in front of you, hand on your shoulder. His hair is damp and he’s out of his uniform. Your brow creases for a moment – you don’t remember him using that endearment for you before.

“Chris,” you say, stretching. Pushing the throw away, and leaning into his touch. “You’re back.”

“I am.” His mouth quirks into a smile. “There was a lot to sort out; it seems the Genai and the Caylara have a dispute over a world on a system between them. The Genai thought if Caylara joined the Federation, we would take their colony from them. They thought if they disrupted the negotiation and killed Crown Princess Nanren, either we would give up, or the Caylarans would be too afraid to continue.” He moves his thumb along your shoulder.

“Spock put the fear of God into the Genai in orbit. I’m not sure how,” he adds, at your incredulous look, “but they and the Caylarans have requested mediation. And now the Genai want to work towards joining the Federation, too.”

“I wish they’d chosen to talk to us first,” you say, frowning. Thinking of the dead Caylaran. “These breakthroughs always seem to come at such a cost.”

“They do,” he says, gathering you into his arms. Holding you against him.

You stay in his arms for a while, just breathing. But eventually he pulls back, and moves to sit beside you.

“You were amazing today. You’ll be getting a commendation, but Crown Princess Nanren wanted me to convey her thanks, too. You saved her life.” He reaches into his pocket, then leans forward and fastens a chain round your neck. It’s delicate, golden, and from it hangs the ring that she had lent you for the computer. That you had given back before you left. “She wanted you to have this. But she thought a necklace might work better.”

You shake your head, taking hold of the ring. “Saving her was as much you as me, Chris. Locking those doors.”

He looks at you, thoughtful. “I don’t think so. I—I have never felt fear like I did today. Now I look back at it I can tell it wasn’t real, but at the time, seeing you on those screens, moving with purpose, helping our people and the Caylarans... you gave me hope.”

He pauses, blue eyes meeting yours. Hand reaching out to touch your face.

“When we were down there... I remember what you said to me. I love you too.”

You lean forward, meeting him for a kiss, gentle at first but it goes passionate almost immediately, both of you pouring your feelings for each other into the connection between you. You didn’t know it could feel like this, you think, before he pulls you into his lap and thoughts flee away.

*

“Lieutenant, I want to thank you.” Number One says, sitting at her desk. “I was not myself down on Caylara, but you did yourself proud. You saved us.”

“You’re welcome, Commander.” You smile. “I’d say any time, but right now I’d be happy if I never left the ship again.”

“That being said, if you tell anyone—”

“If I tell anyone you were crying, I can expect to spend the next month of duty shifts degaussing the transporter with a microresonator?”

“Oh that’s a good one. I must remember that. Yes. You will be degaussing, Lieutenant.”

“Understood.”

[bananaink]

I’m alive! :D With some imprint AU stuff :D

And I even wrote something for it you can read under the cut!  If you don’t want to read it, here is the gist of it: After Izuku and Shigaraki fought and left both hurt, Kurogiri brought Izuku to AFO, where he gifted Izuku with his healing quirk. Also, I tried writing from AFOs perspective, which is so horribly hard and weird but very intriguing...

So, be warned if you read it! It’s not happy and has a description of an injury!

This was... unexpected. Not entirely a surprise but still... unexpected.

Keeping his hand over the small, bloody chest, All For One listens to the rattling breath in those ruined lungs. The boy couldn’t be much older than... when had he picked him up again? He can’t remember his age. Or where he had plucked him from. Just remembered the soft call of a quirk, interesting and promising enough to pique his interest, sitting in a vessel as young and mendable as he had needed it.

A gurgle, a spluttered cough and that small raw chest twitches under his palm. All For One gently lifts the boy in his arms, tipping his head back. Blood trickles out of his mouth and just a second later the body tries desperately to suck in another breath.

With his other hand not feeling for the heartbeat, All For One lets his fingertips wander over the raw flesh on his cheek, prods at the jaw bone peeking through and listens to the sounds coming from that throat. The boy isn’t conscious, of course not. Tomura has done a number on him this time and when Kurogiri had carried the dying child over, pristine suit covered in blood and voice stiffly hiding how regretful he was over it, the boy had just lost the last hold on his awareness.

All For One may had no more eyes to see with, but he didn’t need to when Kurogiri had gently handed Izuku over, one hand lingering a second too long on the curls for it to be anything but unsettled and ever so humbly informed him about the fight. He didn’t need to see how Kurogiri cared for the two boys and why he had brought Izuku to All For One instead of just disposing him somewhere. Kurogiri never neglected Tomura, followed his duties as the caregiver to a T so the chosen one could be groomed into the final chess piece - but he also never truly hid how much he’d rather have Izuku as his only ward. Until now it had never posed as a problem and Kurogiri wasn’t so dumb as to let his own feelings override his Senseis wishes. But All For One still has Izuku in his arms, not his pupil sulking somewhere.

Tomura had refused to go to his Sensei and explain himself as to why he had mortally wounded his little brother he had proclaimed to love so dearly. So Kurogiri had assumed that position, jumped at the chance to get the barely alive body to him. He informed All For One about the skill and ingenuity it had taken for Izuku to survive and almost even win the fight. How he had turned the tables for the first time, how he had learned from his observations, tried to apply and utilize them. A first try, a first real counterpunch, strong enough to force Tomura into almost killing his dear, little brother.

All For One had gotten the feeling Kurogiri had tried to upsell the child, slowly succumbing to his wounds and entirely inflicted because of his own decisions. In all these short years, Izuku had been nothing but invisible. A good distraction for the impatient Tomura, a useful little tool for the doctor, an asset for Kurogiri and his net of rumors. And when he had tripped All For Ones senses, tickling his focus for a second with one of his stupid stunts, he had made sure to duck and cover immediately. Izuku had been a quiet child until now, unassuming and harmless, the perfect antipole to a boiling Tomura, full of rage and possibility under his skin.  

But to hear that a mere little prank had escalated into this...

All For One is surprised to feel a little bit of remorse about Izukus inevitable death. He never actually thought to get attached to the boy. He was supposed to be a plaything for Tomura, distract him while he himself slowly set his plans in motion. But now he finds himself looking down on the child, breath slowly losing strength and each heartbeat coming later than the one before.

He twitches when the small hand, limply resting on his own touches his exposed wrist and is surprised to feel a small, wild quirk reaching out to him. He can feel his oldest, his strongest and most guarded quirk peeking around the mass of other ones he had layered over it. The child reaches and reaches and All For One – ever the curious one – lets him touch his quirk. It's warm and inviting before it quickly turns into a vice, desperately gripping and clawing at All For One.

It’s as if a connection opened up between them, a small freeway directly into his softest part.

A call for help, fear flooding him and pain striking his insides, agitating old wounds...

It’s the first time in years he can feel his skin break out in goosebumps.

He gently pries the foreign quirk away from his own and is surprised again when it latches on to another one on the way, rousing All For Ones echolocation awake and dousing him in information. It takes longer to get the quirk away from that one and he finds himself swatting the reaching quirk away. Watches how another breath doesn’t get enough air into the frail body and the quirk flutters, losing its grip.

He remembers why he had been fascinated with this quirk in the first place. Not only had it felt so so similar to his original one, on its own useless and pointless but born to be a complementary piece... Only to be disappointed when it wasn’t even strong enough to be used in a Nomu. Maybe he had just used it wrong? Thought about it like glue, like a puzzle piece with endless connecting possibilities like his own. But maybe it was more of a... starter. Even as he is thinking that, the quirk snags the one for levitation and he feels himself floating for a second before shutting it off. It is fascinating how agile and fast the quirk jumps around in his body, touching and clawing at quirks that long lost their individuality and almost disrupts his own carefully crafted unity.  

Despite its owner dying - a body with a heartbeat more dead than alive - All For One can still feel the quirk pawing at him, weakly prying at All For Ones defenses and flickering out like a struggling ember in a frozen fire.

So, All For One decides.

Reaching inside of him, he tugs forward a quirk, he had found and needed almost over a decade ago. It had once been strong, unpredictably wayward and hard to control, but after years of constant activity and the inevitable replacements piling over it, adding to its purpose and slowly suffocating it, it had lost its unmanageable streak.

He had meant to throw it away anyway, so what harm could it do to gift it to a body on the verge of death. Maybe even see if the healing was still as strong as it once was.

To activate All For One, tugging the quirk out and forcing it out of his fingertips resting on the bloody chest is something so natural to him that he doesn’t even think about it. Instead he feels the little flickering quirk latch onto him, almost ripping the new quirk out of his body and stuffing it inside Izuku without any assistance from All For One. The healing quirk immediately settles in the center of his chest and pours over the heart and lungs, scratches over bones and muscles. All For One tilts his head, listens and feels for it, how it buzzes like a little furnace with too much heat.

The boy spasms with a strong, sudden heartbeat and a gasp follows before the kid lays still again. All For One cradles the boy to his chest, immersed in the way the gifted quirk seems to rampage through the new body, eager to work on its own after years of being a link in a chain. He can feel the heat under his palm, the little shudders running up and down the flesh. And when he is very, very quiet, he can even hear the tissue repairing itself.

It takes a while for Izuku to reach a point where he has a steady heartbeat without a hitch, can breathe without a wet cough and stops bleeding outside of his body. And when he does, All For One can feel Izukus little fluttery quirk reaching out out out again, prodding at All For Ones barricades, trying to squeeze through the gaps and snag another quirk. Touch it. Activate it. Feel it.

He grasps it with his own and doesn’t let it go further. It wiggles in his hold, fearless.

A greedy little thing and he feels like a parent snagging hands away from the cookie jar when he squeezes it warningly, pulling, until it almost leaves its owner.

The kids eyes flutter and he chokes on nothing, pain lazing his features, body arching like a bowstring - and All For One lets it go. It retreats, scolded and intimidated and falls in place right beside the new quirk as if they had shared one body since the beginning. Izuku sags against him, major injuries taken care of but exhausted after such a deep change, breathing hard and sweat glazing his skin. Still unconscious.

Raking his hand through that wild hair, All For One leans back and checks his own body and if those little grabby hands had disrupted his carefully constructed quirk-creation. Then he reassesses his own healing capabilities and finds them satisfyingly sufficient. No immediate drawbacks and another healing quirk perfectly replaced the submitted one. Every other one falling perfectly into place. Machines around and inside of him keep on whirring, keeping him alive and he has lost not one piece of his own comfort. Oh, how far he has left death behind aready...

The boy stirs in his arms but doesn’t wake up. All For One lets his fingertips wander over the new scar on the boy's face, feels its texture and form. Can’t stop himself from laying his own hand over the shape and, again, notes how small the child is, how young, how frail...

Involuntary whines, high pitched and terrified, climb out of Izukus throat and an unexpected urge to sooth the child surprises the century old being. A faded wish for company, a dusty memory of a family and All For One hugs the child to his chest. He doesn’t rock him, doesn’t try to scare the nightmare away or ease the fear. Because the world is cruel and cold and a nightmare. All the phrases that come to mind of how everything is fine, you’re fine, nothing can hurt you, are lies. And All For One may be a monster, a killer, a curse to some and an abomination to others. But he is not a liar.

So, he does nothing when the boy wakes up in a fit of panic. He does nothing when he asks where he is, what happened, am I dead, did I die? He does nothing when the confusion and desperation turns into fear. And tears, into hyperventilation. He can feel the child slowly spiraling into a panic attack and does nothing but hold him.

But he listens. To the painful sobs and cries leaking out of him, the garbled nonsense his lips form that not even a death-scare can take away. Until they fade into terrified whimpers. Into painful sounding heaving. To exhausted hollowness.

All For One listens to all of it until Kurogiri comes and takes the child away.

[gumnut-logic]

If you should choose a plus one Tracy there are a number of things to be considered. Height, interest level, eye colour and mood are all important factors.

Height because these boys come in the ridiculous. If you want to kiss a Tracy you may need heels.

Interest level varies and as you will see further on, is rather more important than any of the other factors.

Eye colour is because they come in a variety of shades. It also helps if you colour coordinate.

Mood...well, trust me, you don’t want the wrong mood. Tracys can be volatile and dangerous if not maintained correctly. Also, if you happen upon one of the wilder ones, things can get scary.

So which Tracy is right for you?

Let’s start with the youngest.

Alan is sandy haired which is great for beach outings, though you might want to take the sunscreen or he will come back in various shades of red. Height is not an issue as he doesn’t have much. Flats are good for this situation, which is excellent since heels suck on the beach.

His interests generally involve lots of activity, so you’ll want to let him loose in wide open spaces. He will also chatter a lot, so be aware of this in public. To keep him quiet a small investment in a game console will work wonders.

Be very aware that combining Alan with one of his brothers, particularly Gordon, has been known to create havoc. Investing in Gordon along with Alan does have some advantages, particularly at the beach since Alan’s attempts at surfing often require a water rescue and Gordon is highly trained for such a situation.

Why Alan is incapable of surfing is a mystery as he is considered very capable at surfing in space. Like the issues his brother John must tackle, gravity may be the culprit.

As with all Tracys, his manners are excellent and he presents well in all social situations, with the exception of the Gordon factor. If Gordon is involved, all bets are off.

Also, boredom can be an issue and if left to himself, such boredom reveals that Gordon’s lifetime influence has left its imprint and the youngest Tracy will self instigate pranks if left by himself for too long. So make sure you provide adequate stimulation and attention.

Of all the Tracys, Alan’s moods are the most manageable. He does not tend to go to extremes, though there have been some instances of extensive pouting when he is not allowed to do what he wants to. It is suspected that this is due to the Scott influence. Often this can be mitigated by hugging and extensive coddling. All Tracys respond well to such actions, but as Alan is the youngest, he has been subjected to this the most. Obvious suspects include both Scott and Virgil. Rumour has it that Gordon hugs often devolve into tackles and rolling on the floor. Please be aware of this as the youngest Tracy may take advantage of the opportunity to emulate his older brother.

Ultimately, though, Alan Tracy is a good choice for the lover of the outdoors and those who don’t mind a little quiet time. Bonus factors include the option to go into space, an excellent knowledge of our Solar System, particularly good reflexes and an untapped genius level of thought underneath his obsession with video games. Generally cheerful and attentive, Alan Tracy is definitely a good investment.

Now, if you’re into more watersports you may want to consider the next oldest Tracy.

Gordon Tracy is the water specialist. Compact and slim, this Tracy fits into a variety of marine vehicles and can be deployed in freshwater as well.

More of a strawberry blonde than his younger brother, and with russet brown eyes rather than blue, he can be somewhat reminiscent of a small terrier with a comparable risk to the furniture.

Gordon is the prankster of the family. From blue dye to itching powder to the classic kick me sign on your back he has done it all. This may be useful if you possess an arch-nemesis in society, however, in the majority Gordon prefers humour rather than vengeance.

Having said that, Gordon is one of only two Tracys with military experience. He possesses a uniform that can be flaunted for the formal occasion where his International Rescue wetsuit is not applicable. Associated military skills, including excellent marksmanship, may be useful in various social situations.

His interests lie in all things marine. You may be gifted the occasional crab or shellfish. This is a sign of friendship and trust. Note that caring for these gifts is mandatory, even the sea slugs, snails and worms. You may want to make it clear that marine organisms are not welcome at the dinner table unless they are part of the menu.

One advantage of Gordon Tracy is his smiles. He is a generally happy man and loves to share that happiness. Virgil has theorised that the pranks are one of his methods to do just that. Unfortunately, his brothers rarely see the humour in the super glue in their underwear.

As noted above, combining Gordon with his younger brother will lower his intellectual age by about half. Combining him with his other brothers, however, does provide for some interesting effects. If you add Scott Tracy to Gordon, there is usually one of two results. The first can be quite explosive as rebellion against the older Tracy can be spectacular, however, if combined at just the right point, the brothers’ shared military history can create an awesome synergy. At this point, should you want to take over a small country with just the determination present, you have a good chance of success.

On the other hand, combining Gordon with Virgil Tracy prompts him to prank and his older brother to uncharacteristically mirror the tendency. Gordon will bring out the humour in the heavy lifter and hijinks often ensue. However, it should also be noted that the two brothers do possess an somewhat extraordinary bond and despite their differences, make an excellent team.

One very useful if the prank requires heavy lifting.

Yes, Gordon Tracy is an excellent choice. It should be noted however that one of high society’s prominent figures may be interested in taking this Tracy off the market. Be aware that she is not to be trifled with, so if you are determined that Gordon is the Tracy for you, you may have to defend that position.

Violently.

If the quiet lifestyle is more your thing, you may wish to upgrade to John Tracy. ‘Up’ is the keyword here as he resides twenty-two thousand miles up, in orbit, in fact. Yes, John is the original space Tracy. Fully adapted to the cold and dark beyond our atmosphere, he does indeed adore the quiet life.

However, before we tempt you any further, it should be noted that John is the only Tracy brother who is a parent. A single parent at that. Inadvertent though her existence is, Eos is recognised as John’s daughter and she presents a number of unique challenges, the least of which is what she will do to your bank accounts if you upset her. Yes, if you are looking for bankruptcy, offending Eos is a fantastic way to achieve your goal.

In summary, don’t piss off the kid.

Having said that, should she approve of your existence, Eos is quite capable of enhancing that existence should she so choose. In any case, John’s daughter is a great conversationalist, even if she has locked you in the bathroom.

John himself sports arguably the most stunning eyes of all the five brothers. Alan, please be quite and Scott, sit down.

A unique pair of turquoise irises that contrast exquisitely with his copper hair makes for a stunning date to have on your arm. The only downside is that arm may need to be handcuffed to yours if you intend on going anywhere involving more than six people at a time.

Our space Tracy is not a social being. Despite communication as a profession, John Tracy has been heard to wish to only speak to others from space. This may include you. Please keep your phone charged at all times.

It should also be noted that if your phone battery is dead and John wishes to contact you, he may hack an appliance as mundane as your toaster. Communicating via the temperature controls in the shower has been reported. Virgil was not impressed.

John is one of the taller Tracys. Unlike Scott, however, heels may not be needed as ninety-five percent of the time John is in space, so if you are planning to get to know him, you’re going to be in space too. Just float up to look him in those gorgeous eyes.

A fan of spaceball and Star Trek, John is your traditional loveable geek. Be aware that his neighbour knows this and you may want to lock all the airlocks in case she comes knocking for a cup of sugar.

John is definitely a good investment and comes with a space station to boot. You will be able to spend many hours stargazing both at the universe and those irises.

If you feel you would prefer a more earthbound personality, you may want to consider the Tracy capable of moving that earth, in more ways than one.

Virgil Tracy is the biggest brother. Not the tallest, but those shoulders can deadlift all of his brothers with ease. You like muscles, Virgil is your Tracy.

Not to say that the other Tracy brothers lack muscles, the five boys are all very well defined. Virgil was just built for heavy lifting. You want your plus one to carry you anywhere, Virgil is your man.

Crowned with the darkest hair of all the brothers, Virgil’s eyes are chocolate brown, great for subtle and moody expressions. This is an important factor when you consider that he is the artist in the family. Skilled in both the visual and musical arts, the second eldest brother has the tools to serenade until you swoon.

Which makes his muscles useful again when he has to lug you off the floor.

Virgil is a full qualified engineer and comes complete with all the virtues of a home handyman. Capable of replacing tap washers or overhauling your fusion reactor, Virgil is happy tinkering and repairing whatever is needed.

He is the calmest of the brothers. However, early mornings are not appreciated in any way. If you need Virgil for a breakfast outing you will need copious amounts of coffee to get more than a sour grunt out of the man. In fact, breakfast outings are not recommended at all and you may want to invest in his older brother Scott if you need the early morning option.

In his position as second eldest, Virgil has extensive mothering experience. This is useful if you are high maintenance. This Tracy has the medical skills to both bandage and kiss boo-boos better.

Be warned he has been known to remove food smudges from faces with his finger and his own saliva. Keeping your face clean to prevent this embarrassment is highly recommended.

Virgil Tracy is an excellent  investment if you are looking for an all round nice guy. He comes complete with a range of accessories including wrenches, paint brushes and a honkin’ great green machine with which you may have to compete with for his attention...amongst other things.

If nice isn’t enough (and green is not your colour) and you’d prefer the rakishly handsome, daredevil, Jim Kirk kind of guy, then you might as well go straight to the top and get yourself a Scott Tracy. Built for speed, flirt and for swooping you off your feet, Scott will tick all the boxes of all people at your party.

Suave with a devilish smile, this Tracy knows how to work a room. The eldest of the brothers, Scott knows how to give commands and make sure they are followed. You may even find yourself caught in his thrall as sapphire blue eyes and chestnut hair, tinged with the grey of authority, lend their persuasion well to his cause.

This Tracy is built for speed and at Mach 20 there is no faster. Combined with his strategic mind and his terrible determination, this is a man who knows how to get where he wants to go and fast.

He is one hell of a ride.

Just be aware that should you piss him off, he may run you over, then back up and toast you with his afterburners, because big brother Scott has a temper. It is especially advisable not to injure or offend one of his younger brothers or any member of his family for that.

You won’t like him when he’s angry.

Ultimately though, beneath the commander and the bravado, Scott has a soft marshmallow centre...protected viciously by his brother Virgil. Remember those muscles? You don’t want to go there, trust me.

But treat big brother right and you become part of that family and he will defend you to the death.

Military option fully included.

It should be noted that Scott Tracy does not come as a single man. Alan will be coming with him because despite being eighteen, Scott isn’t ready to let the apron strings drop just yet. Also there are three other brothers to consider, and a grandmother. Scott Tracy comes as a total family package.

Bet you didn’t see that coming behind that suave and sultry smile, did you?

No?

Too bad.

Because really you can’t have one Tracy without the others. Despite the apparent simplicity of five billionaire brothers and their heroic lifestyles, these five are one tight knit group. You will never quite have a plus one, it will be more of a plus five.

And I have yet to mention your main obstacle.

You like the youngest Tracys with their sunshine smiles, or Virgil with his soft heart, John with his tender attempts at conversation, or even Scott as he stares at you with that worried frown on his face? Never forget what is standing between them and you.

Me.

Think twice before you commit.

Because none of the havoc the boys can cause can be compared to what I can offer you.

Remember that.

Very sincerely,

Kayo Kyrano

International Rescue Security

And your worst nightmare.

-o-o-o-

[ramblinganthropologist]

MER Week #1 - “Fun” in the sun

Summary: Alistair Shepard doesn’t want to take a vacation. Unfortunately for him, Dr. Chakwas disagrees. Lucky for him, he’s at least got a buddy to complain about it with. Nothing like having your pilot there - now if only they could agree on the Normandy’s gender. Oh well, they got time until the Normandy’s fixed.

---

There was nothing like a sunny beach to remind Alistair Shepard that he hated beaches and the sun.

“Get some sun, she said, it’s good for you… pretty sure a doctor is supposed to warn you against skin cancer, but what do I know? I’m just a medic…”

Maybe it was a little immature, but he definitely kicked at the sand in front of him. Perhaps if he had been in a better mood, he would have appreciated the fact it was blue and sparkly. However, even that couldn’t save him as he scowled down at his feet. Right then, it was just an insult to his growing injury.

He would have rather been going off and finding the collectors, but something wrong with the Normandy had led them to stopping on the planet while the techs figured it out. Even then, he would have preferred getting his hands dirty getting the sexiest ship he had ever seen airborne. However, he wasn’t – he wasn’t allowed.

Yes, allowed was the correct word this time. He may not have been under the Alliance at the moment, what with being dead and all, but Alistair still had to follow orders. In this case, they were the doctor’s. Dr. Chakwas had called him in not long after they had landed, showing him his latest readings. His stress was through the roof, and he was going through anxiety pills like there was no tomorrow.

He had, of course, tried to argue it was a result of coming back to life, but she hadn’t believed him. Honestly, he hadn’t even really believed it himself as he had said it. Lying really wasn’t one of his fortes. Fixing shit, hamsters – he was good with those. Lying, not so much. That was why people called him a boy scout. Well, that and he listened to doctor’s orders. He had only wished those orders hadn’t involved kicking him out of the airlock after making him change his clothes in the medbay. Apparently, armor wasn’t really appreciated on a beach.

Fine… if he got his ass shot, he was blaming her. Besides, she would be the one patching him up anyway. Hooray for pyrrhic victories.

“Investigate the beach my ass…” he sighed, running a hand over his hair as he sat back in his seat. From where he was sitting under a beach umbrella, it was all bright skies and warm waters. And sand. So much fucking sand. The shit was everywhere, including on him. At least the sand he was used to was pale enough to not show up against his skin. This shit, oh, this shit was going to be fucking annoying. It was making him sparkle like a fucking 21st century vampire, even as he tried to avoid it.

And even if he could, he wasn’t allowed back on the ship until it was fixed… so he was stuck under that beach umbrella, devoted to people watching and trying not to fry.

You know you don’t have to stay under the umbrella, Commander. You could use some sun.

It was rare for Dr. Chakwas to come in through his omni-tool, but no doubt she could sense a disturbance in the force. That, or she had a camera on him. Honestly, he wasn’t sure, but it didn’t put him in a good mood as he stretched out. At least the chair was somewhat comfortable, but that wasn’t saying much.

“I go out there and I’m a lobster in five minutes.” He adjusted his sunglasses, laying back. “No, Taako’s good out here. In fact, if you need me to come back and supervise the re- “

No.

Her voice was as flat as the beach and just as stinging. Alistair scowled at this as he let out a sigh. Well, it had been worth the effort. Persistence was one of his strong suits – or was it one of his flaws? Eh, it depended on who you asked. Right then, Dr. Chakwas was definitely considering it the latter of her tone was anything to go by.

Couldn’t blame him for trying though.

You need the rest, Commander. Your heart rate has been far too elevated. Even a new heart can’t take the strain for long.

“I know… but couldn’t I do it inside?” There was no missing the sulking tone to his voice as he sighed again. “At least then I could hang out with Saren.”

Grunt is taking excellent care of Saren. Now, take care of yourself. We have an estimated two hours until the repairs are complete.

“Yes, ma’am.” His eyeroll was hidden by his glasses as the call cut out. Once alone, Alistair shook his head and laid back. Maybe if he was lucky, nobody would pay attention to the sight of a pasty redhead hiding under a beach umbrella. If that was the case, he was content to try napping.

…

Well… he would’ve if he wasn’t reminded of the stupid sand, stupid water, and the fact he’d been kicked off his own ship for an enforced vacation.

“Fuck.”

“Hey, language. There are probably some kids around here. Do you want them picking up swear words from humanity’s first Spectre?”

A new voice drew Alistair’s attention as he sat up, pushing his sunglasses to his forehead. Someone had taken the seat next to him, stretching out in a way they clearly didn’t get to normally. It took him a second – normally, those hairy legs had pants on them – but he knew the face and the laugh anywhere as reality set back in.

“Joker?”

“What, did you think you were the only one to get vacation exiled? The techs said I kept interfering with their tests on the Normandy.” The pilot nudged a can over. He came bearing Sprite. This was why he was Alistair’s favorite. “Figured a peace offering would help your mood some.”

It did. The Spectre was more than happy to accept the can and take a deep sip. Something about cold sugar water did wonders to elevate his mood, and when he sat back again he didn’t feel quite as pissed. He was still pissed, mind you, but it wasn’t as bad. Honestly, he had gone to sub krogan rampage to annoyed hamster honestly.

What, the Normandy was his ship. He didn’t like people messing with it.

“Thanks.”

Joker chuckled as he leaned back, enjoying the shade. “Surprised you’re not out there swimming or whatever normal people do at the beach. Chakwas gave you the swim binder, right?”

Yes, he was wearing it underneath the short-sleeved jacket he had managed to grab before being forced out of the airlock in nothing but flip-flops and a pair of board shorts. It was just as uncomfortable as his regular one, but there was strange comfort in that. At least there was something familiar for him.

“I don’t like going around in just a binder.” His words trailed off as he felt his cheeks heat, even in the summer sun. “Besides, that way I can keep you company. Can’t have my best pilot breaking anything trying to impress the ladies.”

Next to him, Joker snorted. “Unless you’re cheating on me behind my back, I’m your only pilot. Besides, you know that the Normandy’s my only lady, Commander.”

Alistair found himself snickering as well as he allowed his sunglasses to fall back over his eyes. “That’s too bad, because I’m fairly certainly the Normandy is a man. And you can’t argue with me, it’s my ship and I get to make the rules.”

Well, at least the rules that didn’t concern throwing him out the airlock. Apparently, he could be overruled there. Wasn’t that technically mutiny? When he got back on the Normandy, he would need to look into that. Maybe he would finally get to toss some people out the airlock. Consider it returning the favor…

Wow, he could just feel the little red number in the back of his mind go up with that one.

“Damn, now you got me right in the middle of insubordination. Going to have to disagree, because after flying her, I know she’s a woman.” Joker was still grinning as the two of them did their best to avoid the sun. “You sure you’re not getting the wires crossed, Commander?

“I am the biggest fucking homosexual you know, Jeff Moreau. I know a sexy man’s energy when I see it.”

The two paused, fixing each other with a deadpan glance. The beach was now their battleground, two opposing forces meeting in the no man’s land where neither would give ground. It was an old war, one that would have no victors.

Naturally, it only took them a few seconds to break once everything sunk in.

A few seconds later, the laughter started with two octaves harmonizing in a weird staccato that made Alistair’s insides feel like something had just been scraped out. It was stupid, he knew it was, but something about the whole argument just made him want to laugh harder. For once, he didn’t argue – down he went, doubled over as tears beaded in his eyes.

Joker wasn’t much better, but he was a bit more careful. After all, the two were tied neck and neck for most ribs broken on the Normandy. Chakwas wouldn’t want him pulling ahead and obtaining the dubious honor, so he made sure not to break anything as he leaned against the armrest of his chair, turning red.

Clearly, they were both going insane. But at least they weren’t alone.

“Man energy… right.” It took a few shaky breaths for the pilot to regain his normal tone. His cheeks were still a little red, even under the beard. Of course, that was nothing compared to his commanding officer – Alistair knew he probably looked like a tomato right then. “Shit, I needed that.”

The Spectre nodded as he moved his sunglasses to wipe away a tear. “Same here. Maybe that’s why we got kicked off the Normandy.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s because they don’t want you crawling around and getting stuck somewhere. It’s kind of embarrassing to have to rescue your CO from the ducts.” Joker chuckled as Alistair turned redder. They still weren’t letting him live that down – it was one time! “Apart from the whole dying thing, it’s a miracle you made it to 30 honestly.”

Now it was Alistair’s turn to chuckle as he replaced his sunglasses. “I’m only 29, actually. My birthday’s not for – “

He paused, sitting up when he realized Joker had stopped talking. When he lifted his sunglasses, he realized the man was staring at him, wide-eyed like he had just announced that the vorcha had just gotten a seat on the Council. No, it was worse than that – somehow, it could be. He was downright gobsmacked.

“What, did I say something weird?”

His words snapped the pilot out of it. Joker shook his head, coming back to life. “No, it’s just… damn, Commander. You’re younger than me?”

…

“You’re older than me?”

Now they were both staring at each other, finding it hard to say anything. Alistair should have been used to this, given his rather quick rise in rank and the weird position he occupied. A number of people under him were older, probably a decade or more in some accounts. Yet he had never extended that thought to Joker, despite everything.

Shit, was he honestly even 29? He had been dead those two years and all…

“Damn, we got a kid leading us against the Collectors.” Joker chuckled despite everything. “No wonder you don’t drink, they probably wouldn’t let you in the bar.”

The Spectre resisted the urge to stick out his tongue as he returned to laying down. “Don’t hate on me, old man. I can’t help the baby face.”

“Hey, with age comes wisdom. If I had a lawn, I’d tell you to get off it.” Joker chuckled as he leaned back as well. “Guess I can tell you to pull up your pants or something. That’s what wise elders do, right?”

His pants were always pulled up, thank you very much… it kept his dick in. You try managing two pairs of underwear and a packer if your pants are too low.

Still, Alistair found himself in a much better mood as he let the heat take him over. The sound of the waves, coupled by the bubbling in his ignored can of soda, were almost soothing as he felt his eyes grow heavy.

“You look like you’re about to conk out, Commander.”

He answered with a yawn, eyes finally closing all the way. “I think you might be on to something there, Joker. Wake me up if it looks like I’m about to get roasted.”

There was a soft chuckle to his side. “Alright, but I’m taking pictures for the rest of the crew.”

Alistair could live with that. And so he did, as he felt himself drifting off to the weird dream-free zone he often found himself in. Maybe it was the sound of the waves, or the dark coolness brought on by the overhead umbrella. Whatever it was, he gave himself over to a much-needed nap time.

Somewhere, Chakwas would be proud of him. Look at him, following doctor’s orders like a good boy. Maybe he would make it to 30 after all.

[thatfanficstuff]

That’s my Girl - Poe Dameron

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Warnings: nope. 

A/N: Flangst! It’s my fave. Enjoy. PS: I’m so happy to be writing again.

***

You had a reputation.

You wished you could say it was for something as exciting as sleeping around or being a trouble maker, but no. You had a reputation for being the best mechanic on base. Yep. You were the best at your job. How boring.

And, let’s be honest, all that really meant was more work for you. If no one else could find the problem, they got you to take a look at it. Did they care if you hadn’t had a day off in weeks? Or that you hadn’t strung together more than five hours of sleep at one time in the last two? Of course not. Not when the great and mighty Poe Dameron was complaining that his fighter was sluggish and none of them could find anything wrong.

You huffed out a breath in irritation. It wasn’t Poe you should be mad at. He wasn’t the one that woke you from a sound sleep to look at his ship. But you’d bet good money that he did more than hint that they should get you down to the hangar when they couldn’t fix the problem.

Something bumped against your leg startling you from your thoughts. You jerked in surprise causing your wrench to slip and you barked your knuckles. Damn it. That hurt. You sucked on the tender skin and glared down at BB-8. “What did I tell you about doing that?”

“Don’t be mad at him. He just gets excited to see you. Who can blame him?”

The smooth voice drew your attention and you snapped your gaze from the droid to his owner. Poe Dameron. He smiled as your gaze met his and your heart sped. Heat flooded your face and you cursed under your breath. Why did he always have this effect on you? Every single time you hated yourself for it and swore it would never happen again yet here you were.

“Dameron.” You turned back to your work doing your best to dismiss him. The sooner he left you alone the better. He was far too distracting.

“Y/L/N,” he responded in a mockingly serious tone. “Fix my ship?”

“Haven’t found anything wrong with her yet.”

“Yet. See, that’s why you’re my favorite. Everyone else just gives up.”

You grunted in disagreement. “They don’t give up. Not really. You just pick up on microscopic changes in your ship before they actually become a problem. Makes them harder to find. That’s all.” You knew some of the mechanics didn’t even bother trying to look beyond the obvious. They turned it over to you to do the hard work and walked away. But not all of them were like that and you didn’t like to listen to anyone besides you complain about it.

“But you always find the problem, Y/N. I swear some of the others think I make stuff up.”

You glanced at him to find him grinning at you and your traitorous heart threatened to skip a beat entirely. You quickly shifted your eyes back to the wiring you were now inspecting. “I’ve never known you to be wrong about your ship, Poe. I’ll find the problem.”

“That’s my girl,” he said in that sweet, smooth voice. And didn’t that do all sorts of things to your fragile pulmonary system. Damn the man. Before you could even think of a response, he disappeared, taking his droid with him.

***

“Are you still working on this stupid fighter?” Rey’s voice caught your attention and you looked up with a smile. You were currently sat on the floor of the hangar taking a break in the shadow of the ship.

“I’m nearly finished,” you assured her.

Her brows shot up in surprise. “You’ve found the problem then?”

You shook your head. “No, but I’m running out of places to look.” With that pronouncement you got back on your feet and climbed the ladder to the wiring you had exposed for your inspection.

Rey sighed and pulled over a nearby stool to sit on. “You’ve been at this for two days. Have you even slept?”  

“I caught a few hours.” And you had, but your brain wouldn’t let you rest for long when there was a problem to solve. So for the past two days you’d been mainlining caffeine and sleeping in short bursts before getting back to work. In fact, you’d just come back from a three-hour break to rest and eat. It was supposed to be a full eight hours, but you’d had an idea and couldn’t rest until you looked into it.

“That’s not healthy, Y/N, and you know it.”

You glanced at her. “You know how I am, Rey. I can’t help it.” You turned back to your work, separating the wires to inspect them individually. And then you found it. Finally.

For some reason one of the bolts on Poe’s seat had been replaced with one far longer than the original. The extra length was enough to have it rubbing against the wires in the compartment below. Undoubtedly the fluxuation in power Poe had complained about came from the bolt hitting the bare wire once the protective covering had been worn away. You had no idea who had replaced the bolt but once you looked back over the maintenance logs to find out, you were going to chew their ass. This was the kind of thing that could cause a system to short out during a flight. It was the kind of thing that killed pilots. The First Order did enough of that without the mechanics adding to the body count.

“Y/N—” Rey started and you cut her off.

“Give me a minute. I finally found the problem. Let me fix it and we can get out of here.” You slid down the ladder and dug through your tool box. A quick comparison of two bolts and a length of wire later and you were back in the access hatch under the fighter.

Now that you knew the problem, it was a quick matter to fix it. After one last check over the wiring to make sure only the one had been compromised, you grinned. “All fixed,” you announced as you sealed up the access hatch.

“I knew you could do it. This calls for a celebration with my favorite girl.”

You were surprised to hear Poe’s deep voice and were thankful your back was turned so you had a moment to compose yourself before facing him. Your heart was racing as your feet hit the floor and you turned to accept his invitation. Only Poe wasn’t looking at you. No, his focus was solely on the petite blonde under his arm. She giggled at his attentions and your heart dropped somewhere in the neighborhood of your stomach. Of course he wasn’t talking to you. You should have known better.

Your gaze shifted from them to Rey to find her looking at you with a face full of sympathy. Great. Just what you wanted. Her pity. You shook your head and sighed. Stepping around Poe and his date, you spoke to Rey as you walked by. “Let’s go get something to eat so I can get some sleep and you can get off my ass.”

She fell into step with you. “Don’t be pissy with me just because…”

You glanced over to see why she had trailed off. She was looking behind you with a frown. Before you could question why, a hand grasped your arm pulling you to a stop. You turned to find Poe standing behind you. “Seriously, Y/N. Thank you. You’re the best.”

You grunted in annoyance and gestured toward the woman trailing behind him with a lift of your chin. “Pretty sure that designation falls to her. Have a good day, Dameron.” You twisted your arm from his grasp and walked off, ignoring the weight of his stare on your back.

***

Three weeks passed. Three weeks in which you did your level best to ignore Poe Dameron. You monumentally failed, but you tried. Fortunately, things had been busy so you were never left without an excuse when he tried to engage you in conversation.

Currently, you sat at a table in the mess hall with one hand wrapped around a mug of coffee while the other picked at the plate of food Rey was making you eat. One of the squadrons had gotten into a firefight with some First Order assholes and you’d been busy patching holes in their ships for the last three days.

You grinned as she filled you in on the details of her and Finn’s date the day before.

“Fantastic,” she grumbled and rolled her eyes. “Incoming.”

Before you could ask what she meant, Poe dropped into the seat beside you. Rey made a face and you snickered as you broke off a piece of bread and popped it in your mouth.

“I just came from the hangar. Campbell told me he fixed my fighter.”

You gave Poe your attention, your brows arched in question. “And? It’s usually a good thing when your ship gets fixed isn’t it?”

The pilot frowned. “Yeah, when you fix it.”

You rolled your eyes. “In case you haven’t noticed, Dameron, I’ve got half of red squadron in for repairs right now. I don’t have time to be your personal mechanic.”

“I know you’re not my personal mechanic, Y/N, but I feel better when you look her over before I take her up again. I trust you.”

Your traitorous, traitorous heart sped up just a little. Damn it. You sighed and tore your gaze from his. “Flattery changes nothing, flyboy. I’m busy.”

“Can’t my girl find a little time for her favorite pilot?”

You didn’t even glance in his direction. Instead, you stood and grabbed the bread from your plate. “See you later, Rey.”

As you walked off you heard Rey behind you. “Sometimes, you’re a real asshole, you know that, Poe?”

“What did I do?”

***

Two days later you’d finally finished the repairs. You sat on the roof of the hangar with your feet dangling over the edge while you sipped from your flask. It wouldn’t be long before you headed to bed for some much needed sleep but for the moment you were simply enjoying a bit of peace as you watched the stars. It was late and most of the base was dark as people with much less work than you were already asleep.

Footsteps fell on the roof behind you and you didn’t so much as glance in that direction. You didn’t need to. Only one person ever bothered you when you came up here. Poe fucking Dameron.

He sat beside you and you passed him your flask. He took a drink and you smirked when he coughed as he returned it to you. “Are you trying to get drunk or strip paint?”

You shrugged. “Works for both. It’s particularly useful for cleaning engine parts.”

“I don’t know if you’re joking or not, but it wouldn’t surprise me if you weren’t. That’s disgusting.” Even as he said the words, he held out his hand for another drink.

You took one of your own before handing it back to him. “Grows on you, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. Like a fungus.” He took another swig then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He stared at the flask in his hand for a moment before stealing another drink.

You snatched it from him, causing some of the liquid to spill on him as a result. “Quit drinking all my liquor, Dameron.”

“Name’s Poe, Y/N.”

You lifted your brows but didn’t look at him. “Pretty sure your name is also Dameron, Dameron.”

“You have been avoiding me since you fixed my ship. And you haven’t once called me Poe. I don’t like it.”

“Don’t know what to tell you.”

He huffed a laugh. “How about you tell me what I did to piss you off? And how I can fix it. I miss you.”

You clenched your teeth and worked a muscle in your jaw. “If this is about your ship, you can stow it. I already looked it over. It’s fine.” You saluted him with your flask. “You’re welcome.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, Dameron, that you smile and flirt until you get what you want from me. Which, let’s be honest, is always fixing your ship. Once she’s back in fighting condition, you disappear until something else goes wrong.” You took another swallow of liquor. “I’ll save you the effort and tell you that you don’t have to sweet talk me into doing my job.”

“That’s not…okay, yeah maybe that’s fair. But in my defense you don’t make this easy, you know?”

You laughed and shook your head in disbelief. “What exactly is it that I make so difficult for you?”

“Liking you, okay?” He muttered to himself and ran a hand down his face when you didn’t immediately respond.

Realizing you were staring, you tore your gaze away and cleared your throat. “Liking me as in I’m a horrible person and there is nothing likable about me?”

He laughed. “No. Liking you as in you’re amazing and I’m just another flyboy.”

You cringed as you remembered calling him exactly that the last time you’d talked to him. “I’m just a mechanic, Poe. Pretty sure the Resistance would crumble without their best pilot.”

He shook his head. “You underestimate your value. To me and the Resistance.”

“I didn’t think you saw me as anything special.” The confession hurt so the words were quieter than you’d intended.

“Rey was right. I am an asshole if you believe that.”

“Not going to argue with you, Dameron.”

“Hey now. That’s not fair,” he protested.

You shrugged. “You only talk to me if you want something. Forgive me if I find it difficult to believe you see me as anything other than a mechanic.”

He sighed. “I can talk to you about my ship. I can talk to you about flying and fighting and know that you won’t think I’m an idiot. I know about all that stuff.”

“Do you remember the first time I fixed your ship?” you asked.

He frowned but nodded. “Yeah. What about it?”

“You took it out the next day. When you came back, I was arguing with Roberts about something and you interrupted. Told him to quit giving your girl a hard time. When I looked over, you just gave me a grin and a wink before walking off. I was smitten from that moment on. Stupid.”

“Y/N, I—”

“Let me finish,” you interrupted. “’My girl.’ That’s what you call me. And every time it melts my heart. Gives me a minute where I can pretend maybe it’s real. Then I heard you call Victoria that. And Shelly. And some blonde I didn’t recognize. And every time it hurts. Which is stupid, you know, because I’d never had any indication those words meant to you what they meant to me.” You sighed as you pushed yourself to your feet. “I expected something from you that you’d never promised me. That’s on me, not you. I’ll get over it.”

You were half way to the ladder when Poe grabbed your wrist and pulled you to a stop before releasing his grip. “Wait. Can we just start over?”

This was stupid but you found yourself unwilling to disappoint him. You turned to face him, extending a hand. “Y/N Y/L/N. Head mechanic. Nice to meet you.”

Poe shook your hand. “Poe Dameron. Pilot.” Instead of releasing you, he tugged you closer until there was little more than a breath between you. His eyes ran over your face and a small smile curled his lips. “I think you’re brilliant and beautiful and amazing and I’d love it if you’d be my girl.”

Your heart raced as you licked your suddenly dry lips. “Don’t you think you’re moving a little fast? After all, we just met.”

He narrowed his gaze and pulled you closer before wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you to him. “Be my girl, Y/N.” His lips brushed yours as he spoke but he stopped short of actually kissing you.

You leaned into him and moved your lips over his in answer. Your hands fisted in his shirt to keep him close as you kissed. When you separated, you sucked in a breath and smiled. “Finally.”

His answering grin lit his whole face. “Finally.” Then he dipped his head for another kiss.

As the night wore on, he walked you to your room. And when the two of you couldn’t separate long enough to say goodnight, he followed you inside. You slept in his arms and woke to sweet kisses and lazy smiles.

And when he talked you into staying in bed instead of heading into work on your day off, he rewarded you by pulling you closer. “That’s my girl.”