#it's not that far back. like an extra month or so pre grey

[disaster-magnet-runner-five]

absolutely wretched thought. what if I made alex wake up post dreamish so far back that they're still in the fucking bering sea

[therenlover]

The Boy With The Easel (A Young Artist!Helmut Zemo x Reader Oneshot)

(Hey! If you end up enjoying this fic, it’s the first chronological part of a new fun expanded AU I’ve created with @creme-bruhlee​! Their fic Bliss is part of the same timeline and takes place about a year after this one, so you should check it out!!!)

Synopsis: About a month into your first semester at Novi Grad’s top university, you finally meet the strange young man that you’ve taken to calling ��easel boy” in the back of a bookshop. From a distance, he always seemed cold and aloof. As you get to know him, though, you realize things aren’t always what they seem.

Tags: Meet Cute, College AU, First Meetings, Coffee Date, Artist!Zemo, Embarrassment, Awkward College Kids Falling In Love

Rating: T

Warnings: Very Vague Mention of Sexual Content, Swearing, Zemo Says The Word Daddy In Reference To His Father and The Reader Thinks It’s Kinda Hot

Word Count: 7000~

This fic has been crossposted to my AO3!

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                                    The University of Novi Grad

                                                 Fall 1996

Mornings in Novi Grad could be beautiful if you knew what to look for.

Sokovia was… different from America in many ways. From the language to the scenery, you often found yourself adrift in the strangeness of it all. There had been nothing quite as old as the buildings in the historical district of Novi Grad back home, no towering grey behemoths serving as a reminder of a bygone fight against Soviet invasion in the memories of your childhood. Still, though, there was beauty in the strangeness nonetheless.

From your tiny room in the Helena Lyudmila International Scholar’s dorm, for instance, you had a perfect view of a large campus courtyard hosting a statue of the donor by the same name. She was some royal who had invested in education a few hundred years ago, and by the looks of her metal likeness, she had been quite pretty. The sight of her shining in the early morning sun was one of the things that made uprooting your whole life seem worth it in the end, no matter how silly that seemed.

There were other small comforts that you had found beauty in during your first month attending your prestigious university, too.

You found beauty in the way the sunlight streamed over the rooftops like the opening to an Oscar-winning film. In the sound of traffic below and the overcast skies above. Sandwiches from corner stores, wildflowers growing in the median of the road, cups of the worlds best black coffee served steaming by scowling attendants at the cafe; Everywhere there was something small and kind and just familiar enough to relish in, more than able to distract you from the stress of living hand-to-mouth in a country where you didn’t even know the language. It made it all worth it.

That being said there was something else too…

Someone else to be specific.

The campus tended to run like clockwork. The same groups of students would walk past your window to their classes, the same professors would get their coffee and lunch at the little cafe across the square, and every weekday morning at 8 am on the dot, easel boy would set up his palette and canvas and paint the same bustling street.

He was talented, that you couldn’t deny. Even from the 6th floor, which was a considerable distance away, it was possible to admire the detailing and consistency with which he painted. His talent wasn’t when kept you captive at your window in the morning, though. Though you were sure his art was beautiful, he himself was a thousand times more stunning.

All dark eyes and dark hair and dark clothes, he parted crowds with his piercing gaze alone. He was always dressed like the protagonist of some awful artsy film. Massive argyle sweaters, untucked button-ups, corduroy jackets, and flare bottomed pants that must have survived his father’s wardrobe from the ’70s… his style was as close you could get to atrocious while still being impeccable as possible, and that wasn’t even getting started on the smudged black liner always present under his persistent gaze. You had never had the pleasure (or embarrassment for that matter) of meeting him in person, but you were sure that you would have had the same awed and slightly frightened reaction if you ever did. He could have been plucked entirely from the pages of some awful romance novel.

You were well and truly smitten with the idea of him.

If you looked at your morning routine through the eyes of a stranger, you’d consider yourself odd for your strange obsession with him, but you didn’t look at it like that. It wasn’t an obsession. You never overstepped your bounds. He was simply pleasing to look at and so you did. That didn’t constitute as obsessive, right?

Even if it did, you weren’t causing any harm.

Easel boy, as you had come to refer to him, was simply a tool you used to ground yourself in your new and frightening environment. Nothing more. If you ever met him, you would surely hate him from the short interactions you’d seen him have with strangers. They never ended well. He would remain an unattainable, attractive ideal in your mind until he eventually faded away into a funny memory you’d share with your kids one day.

Until then, though, you would watch him from your window before your morning classes and refused to feel guilty about it. So, that was that, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

On the morning in question, you had woken up a little late and in a foul mood. In preparation for a test in your foundations of algebra course you had spent the better part of the night pouring over formulas while your upstairs neighbor’s bed slammed repeatedly into the wall and floor. Though you were sure they were having an excellent time, you were most definitely not. It all culminated in you missing your original alarms and despite the fact that your first class started at 10, you were exhausted, furious, and not looking forward to missing breakfast to finish the assigned reading you had put off the night before. The only thing keeping you from throwing in the towel and just giving up was the promise of seeing the painter.

So, when he arrived for the day at 8 am sharp, you were positioned at the ledge by your window, textbook in hand with a mug of instant coffee at your right. It was like a breath of fresh air.

As usual, he retrieved a small pack of cigarettes from the back of his eternally paint-stained jeans only to bring one to his lips and light it quickly. He always smoked before he worked, and just like always, he took an extra cigarette from the pack to tuck behind his ear for later. Then, he got to work setting up his easel and the small stool where he set his palette.

Pulling tubes of acrylic, brushes, and pencils from his well-worn messenger bag, easel boy flipped out the kickstand without any problem and set his thick, pre-primed canvas on the worn metal. You watched in fascination. Art had always seemed so unattainable to you. Instead, you were drawn to the more academic. The man before you, though, created beauty with an ease that had evaded you all your life, and it had you both jealous and entirely intrigued. Slowly, you reached down to take a sip of your coffee as you let your eyes drift back to your reading.

Learning about ancient Babylon was far less interesting than watching him, though.  

When you next looked out the window and away from your work the handsome artist had created his base sketch already. How did he do it so fast? You assumed it was practice. He had been drawing the same 3 buildings every weekday morning for at least a month, so after a while, it must have been second nature to measure out the lines and put things into perspective. You smiled. He tended to have that effect on you.

The process was repeated until a little before 9:30. You would read a few paragraphs then look up to watch the painting progress from a sketch to a full-fledged work of art. It was good today from what you could see. The colors were a bit more muted than usual, but that was only on account of the awful, dreary overcast sky that threatened to dump rain on the city at any time. Overall, you would have considered it a masterpiece. Easel boy didn’t seem to think the same.

He regarded the painting with a sort of begrudging satisfaction that bordered on disappointment before he pulled the second cigarette from behind his ear, lit it, and began the process of packing up his materials. You finished the last of your coffee watching him do so. Smoking, well, smoking tobacco at least, had always been a vice you had avoided and yet you often wondered what it would feel like to take a drag of one of his cigarettes after it had been between his lips. Then, the magic lifted.

He folded up the flimsy easel, tucked it away with his materials back into his messenger bag, hoisted the stool under one arm and the painting under the other before taking off at a brisk clip down the street away from your window. You watched him until he was out of sight.

You were snapped from your concentration by a knock at your door.

“Y/N,” a heavily accented voice called, sending you scrambling for your bag, “If you are not outside in the next 15 seconds I will break down your door,”

Shit.

“Coming, Sasha!” You wailed. It took about 10 of those seconds to grab your backpack and shove your textbook inside, an extra 2 to check your appearance in the mirror- you looked slightly disheveled, but it was the best you were gonna do after the night you’d had. Besides, it wasn’t like you were doing anything important. You didn’t need to be dressed for a date -and you were opening the door for a quick save at the 14th second. Your door was safe for another day.

Out in the hall waited Sasha Balandin, arms crossed and grey eyes piercing in the flickering light of the terrible overhead fluorescents. As a fellow international student, you had become fast friends with Sasha. He was a little rough around the edges, and definitely didn’t take your bullshit, but he was a rare friend. “I have been waiting for 10 minutes,” he griped. You tried your best to look apologetic. “Don’t do that,”

“Do what?” You asked, closing and locking your door behind you as you began walking down the hallway.

Sasha huffed. “Do not pretend you were not too busy ogling that painter in the courtyard to hear me knocking on your door,” His Russian bluntness was on full display now as you shook your head in mock disbelief.

“I can’t believe you’d accuse me of something like that!”

“It is not an accusation if it is true,”

“There’s no way you know for a fact that I was watching him again,”

“But you were. This happens every week,”

You sighed, pausing at the top of the stairs. “I was,”

Taking the stairs in twos, Sasha sighed. “You are too soft, Y/N. Besides, you have said so often that he seems like an asshole. Why do you continue to get all mushy at him out the window if this is the case?”

“Because… well, because…” for a moment, you floundered in search of an answer that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete freak, but you found that there really wasn’t one. It came down the one small factor. “He’s just really hot, okay?”

The look Sasha gave you could have killed. He kept his mouth shut, though, choosing to let his silence shame you more than anything else did. It worked. For the entire trip down the stairs and the mile-long walk to your lecture hall, you felt the weight of shame heavy on your shoulders. Or maybe it was just your backpack. You didn’t know which you’d prefer. He did start speaking again eventually, going on about some party you had missed in favor of studying, but the feeling never left. Even as you sat down for your lecture it was still at the forefront of your mind. In fact, you were so busy thinking about your crush on easel boy and the problems with it that you barely paid attention to the professor’s rehashing of the Epic of Gilgamesh.

Your error only hit when the professor flipped the PowerPoint to the final slide.

“Before you go, I want to remind you that you have a paper on the importance of Enkidu in the Epic is due at the beginning of class this Friday. The details and requirements should be listed in your syllabus. Class dismissed,”

Fuck.

Friday was only two days away.

You were so screwed.

The problem was, you didn’t have a spare copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh just lying around your dorm room. Usually that wouldn’t have been an issue, the professor for your current history course used English for her slide because her particular history course was specifically for first-year international students. Unfortunately for you, though, you hadn’t been taking notes. Instead, you had been daydreaming about how it would feel to have easel boy blow his cigarette smoke in your face and then subsequently scolding yourself for having thoughts like that about a total stranger. In a terrible twist of fate, the professor only held office hours after her last classes on Mondays and Fridays, so even getting the information from her then was off the table. Dread began to pool in your stomach.

Any other student would have been able to cut their losses, rent a copy from the library, slog through it in a night, and write the damn essay even without the help of the classroom slides for context. The only problem was all the books in the library were in Sokovian, and you still barely knew how to order a coffee correctly. Reading the language in a full Cyrillic alphabet would just be impossible, especially for a book as stupidly old as the Epic of Gilgamesh.

In short, unless you could get your hands on a copy in the next day or so, you were absolutely, well-and-truly fucked.

Sasha was quick to find you as the hall cleared out, waiting near your seat as you packed away your notes. “That was all bullshit, no?” He asked, but the second he took in your slightly panicked expression he stopped short, pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing deeply. You knew what he was going to say before he ever said it.

“Something is wrong. You were not paying attention. Were you thinking-”

“Yes. Okay? Yes, I was thinking about him,”

He shook his head slightly. “I am concerned for you,”

“Who isn’t?”

Despite his usually stoic demeanor, that made Sasha huff out a soft laugh. “You got yourself into this mess, Y/N, you will get yourself out somehow,”

Your jaw dropped as you slung your bag over your shoulder and started making your way towards the door. “You’re not gonna help me?”

“Though I would love to be helpful, you forget that my English is poor. It will do me better to read the book in Sokovian myself than to use the information from class,”

Oh, yeah. You winced. “Sorry, Sash’”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he shrugged as you walked out onto the lawn, chilled to the bone by the wind that whipped in every direction.

A storm was brewing. It might not fully take hold of the city for a few hours yet, but it would make the walk to your evening class absolute hell if the rain fell as hard as it had several weeks prior. You could only hope that it wouldn’t start until after you had walked home. Your odds were looking slim, though, based on the way you could already hear thunder clapping in the distance. After a moment you hit the edge of the sidewalk where your paths would diverge.

“Good luck with the paper,” you offered weakly.

Sasha replied with a sharp, “Good luck with your crush,” and then he was off in the opposite direction without another word. Sasha was blunt like that, never overstaying his welcome or lingering when he didn’t need to. There was something enviable about it. What you wouldn’t give to be able to simply say things as they were without an unnecessary sugar coating to save face and spare feelings. It lingered on your mind for the whole half-mile walk to the campus bookstore. Speaking of which...

There was only one place where you might possibly find an English copy of the Epic of Gilgamesh. It wasn’t the big student bookstore, most of the textbooks there had been in Sokovian, Russian, or German and you hadn’t even tried to set foot in their actual book section. No, your only hope was the tiny hole-in-the-wall bookstore you had stumbled upon during move-in. It was only about half a mile away from your dorm from any of your lecture halls, so you often found yourself wandering inside when you had time to kill. They were one of the only stores you’d come across that sold anything in English, magazines included, so despite the fact that the young cashiers rarely spoke your language you often found that the back shelves of that tiny shop kept you from going mad.

Now, they might also be keeping you from ruining your GPA.

You could only hope. If anybody could save you, it was them.

Ducking in through the small doorway, you were greeted by the soft ring of the bell above your head. The attendant at the register simply regarded you with a polite nod. You had seen her there before and she knew you barely spoke a lick of Sokovian, so she didn’t attempt a pleasantry. Instead, she simply let you wander through the entrance and into the towering bookshelves, passing a few other faceless shoppers on your way towards the back. You were grateful for her nonchalance.

If there was anything worse than feeling foolish for not knowing Sokovian, it was being talked down to in perfect English by a Sokovian citizen. Most interactions left you wishing you’d actually taken anything away from your high school French class other than emotional trauma from your teacher and a caffeine addiction. Damn America and its terrible public-school language programs…

The path to the English classics section was one you’d walked many times since discovering the book store. It was right in the very back corner of the shop, tucked away where the city natives wouldn’t have to address or see it. You had snagged a copy of Pride and Prejudice a few weeks back, so you knew exactly where to search. The only problem was slogging through every single book on the shelf in search of the one you were looking for.

Your eyes scanned the wall.  

Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh, Gilgamesh…

Gilgamesh!

On the 6th shelf up sat one small copy. Score! You were saved! As you reached up to grab it, though, you were met with yet another roadblock. The shelf it was on was juuuust a little too high for you to reach. Oh, come on…

You hopped a little, extending your hand up as far as it could go, but your fingers just barely brushed the spine. Somewhere behind you, you could hear footsteps. Then someone coughed to suppress laughter. The shame was plain on your face. As your flannel rode up and you stretched up in one last desperate attempt to grab the book when suddenly someone, you assumed the same person who had been laughing at your misfortune, spoke.

“They have stools, you know,” he said, accented voice thick with amusement. The English surprised you, but you assumed they used it for your benefit. You were in front of the English language books after all. Besides, the shame of it all kept your mind from questioning it too much. “For reaching the top shelf,”

Of course they had stools.

If your face hadn’t already been burning with embarrassment it definitely was now.

In a split-second decision, you decided playing dumb was the only way you could walk out of the situation with any dignity left at all, so you plastered on a confused smile and spun around to greet the stranger. “Really? I had no cl-”

You stopped short.

Oh.

Oh no.

You’d know those paint-stained jeans anywhere.

There, with his hands in his pockets and the most self-important, thin-lipped smirk you had ever seen, was easel boy in all of his cocky, intimidating, hot glory. Had you really noticed how hot he truly was before? It didn’t feel like it. Not now that you’d really seen him close up and reveled in the way his dark eyes hypnotized you with their smudged liner that felt borderline obscene. You could smell him too, all charcoal and turpentine and cigarette smoke. If you had it bad before when he was just a blurry ideal out your window, you were completely and utterly smitten now.

He regarded you with a sort of practiced annoyance, and yet there was a strange softness to it that you hadn’t found in many native Sokovians, especially ones that saw you as the stupid, bumbling American wandering blindly around their country.

“Would you like my help?”

“Huh?” You were so lost in his eyes that you couldn’t even focus on his question.

“To reach your book. Would you like my help?”

“Oh!” With a brisk nod, you stepped away from the shelf to make room for easel boy, “yeah, I’m just trying to grab that one there. The, uh, Epic of Gilgamesh,”

In one swift movement, he was stepping right beside you to easily reach up and grab the offending piece of literature. The closeness of it all nearly sent you into a tailspin. That wasn’t even mentioning the way your heart thudded just a little faster when he finally handed the book to you, his calloused fingers brushing against your own. You barely find a grip on your brain strong enough to thank him through the fog of embarrassment and attraction. Eventually, though, you managed to choke out a placation as your eyes explored the cover of the book.

“Thanks for that,”

“It was no problem,” he shrugged. He didn’t move though, still standing just inches away from you. When you looked up from the book you found his eyes were still on you, watching intently as if he expected something from you. The answer to what he actually expected was a mystery but you could tell he wanted something. When you didn’t speak, he spoke for you. “So, The Epic of Gilgamesh? That’s definitely a bold choice,”

You looked up at him sheepishly through heavily lidded eyes. “It’s not a choice at all, actually. I’m only buying it so I can write an essay,”

“Ah,” Something about his tone was almost disappointed as the conversation stalled.

You quickly changed the subject to the first thing you could think of.

“Your hair is really nice!”

“My hair?”

“Yeah… your hair,”

Smooth move, dumbass.

Easel boy’s expression seemed to soften once more as his signature grin crept back onto his face. “Thank you, I grew it myself,” Between his accent and the way he was looking at you like he was going to eat you alive, you weren’t exactly sure how you hadn’t had a heart attack yet. Still, the attention was nice, even if it was bourne out of you repeatedly embarrassing yourself in a never-ending cycle of fuckups. He ran a hand through his loose brown hair. “I like your shirt. Very American,”

Silently, you cursed yourself for not taking a few extra seconds to pick out a better outfit when you woke up. Standing next to him, even while he was dressed in his paint-stained jeans and undone button-up, you looked like a wreck in comparison. He didn’t seem to be speaking from a place of judgment, though.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was being nice, but that couldn’t be the case… could it?

“Maybe it’s just that I haven’t met very many Sokovians that are fond of America, but I’m not sure if that was meant to be a compliment or an insult,” You joked. It was a bit sarcastic, the lilt of your voice masking your deep insecurity, and to your surprise easel boy laughed. He really laughed. From your place beside him, you could almost feel the warmth radiating off of him as he shook his head.

“It was definitely a compliment,”

Oh.

Your heart skipped a beat.

That was a new revelation.

You steeled yourself with a deep breath. Fuck it. It was now or never.

“I, uh… I’m Y/N, and you are?”

He regarded you once again with that strange expression of expectation. “What?”

“I asked for your name,” you repeated, and yet he still stood, slightly dumbfounded, staring down at you with that same expectant expression from earlier. For a moment, you almost thought he expected you to know it already. That fact was quickly glossed over when he moved to rub the back of his neck with his hand, eyes drifting down to the floor.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, “I’m not very good with people. My father thought college might help me finally connect with my peers, but I don’t think he expected that I was the problem, nor do I think he expected me to pick a degree in the arts,” Suddenly, he paused and stuck out his hand to you. “I’m Hel. It’s very nice to meet you Y/N,”

With only a moment of hesitation- because wow, your name had never sounded more right on someone’s lips -you took his large calloused hand in your own and shook it gently. His palm was warm, his fingers lingering on your own for just a moment even as he pulled away. It wasn’t much, just a soft brush against your flesh, but it sent a flash of heat and liquid confidence through your chest.

“Is that short for something?” Your eyes met his in the soft yellow glow of the overhead lamps. Seeing him like this, so up close and personal, he looked a lot more human than he had from your window. Sure, he was imposing. Underneath the initial harsh facade, though, was something softer and almost poetic. You weren’t an artist by any means but if you had been, you had no doubt that he’d be your muse.

“It’s short for Helmut, but only my father calls me that, and only when he’s cross, which, unfortunately, is most of the time,” he chuckled, “Besides, it’s an old man’s name. It doesn’t suit me,”

The words left your mouth before you knew what you were saying.

“Well, it’s better than calling you easel boy,”

Shit.

Today really just wasn’t your day, huh?

In the split second where you were mourning your chances with the most stupidly handsome guy who had ever shown any interest in you, you almost missed the way Helmut’s eyes lit up at the admission.

“Easel boy?” His voice was teasing, but not demeaning. That didn’t do much to ease your mortification, though.

“Is there any chance that I can get you to forget I said anything?”

“If you already have a nickname for me when we’ve barely met, I think you already know the answer to that question,”

His knowing smirk was enough to get you pleading. “You can’t just let me off the hook this once?” you begged, scrubbing a hand across your forehead in a desperate attempt to get away from his piercing gaze. The things those brown eyes did to you could be classified as obscene… “I will genuinely do anything if you don’t make me explain myself right now Hel,”

Hel quirked up an eyebrow. “Anything?” The way your stomach turned at just one word from him was both terrifying and extremely exciting. It felt like a promise. Without hesitation, you nodded. That made him smile. “In that case, get coffee with me today?”

Once again, you were rendered speechless.

“My treat,” he added, “unless you’re not interested…”

“No!” Your answer left your lips embarrassingly fast, “Or- yes? No, no, I think I meant no. No; I am very interested. Yes; I would like to get coffee with you,” There was a hint of shame in your words, but only a hint. After the day you’d had already, there wasn’t very much there to be ashamed of. Still, that same pit of dread began to open up in your stomach as you mulled over your choices.

Thankfully, Helmut continued to take it all in stride. “Wonderful! Is there anything else you’d like to do here before we go? It’s best we leave soon if we want to beat the rain,” He offered up his arm as he spoke like some sort of Disney prince. It was, by far, the cutest gesture you had ever been lucky enough to receive.

You linked your arm with his without hesitation. “As soon as I pay we can get going,” He was warm. It radiated off him in waves just like the warm hints of tobacco and wintermint that seemed to seep from his skin and clothes. With that, you made your way to the front desk as Hel shot you a sly smile.

“Who said anything about letting you pay?”

True to his word, he didn’t let you pay for a single thing for the rest of the afternoon.

The two of you made your way up to the cashier together, and Helmut only separated from your side to grab his wallet before you could grab yours. He then spoke in rapid-fire Sokovian to the lady at the register and pulled what could only be described as a wad of Sokovian koronas while you set the book on the counter, and from the looks of it, she seemed more than pleased with the two of you. Who wouldn’t be, especially when Hel seemed to insist that she keep the excess? In the end, after the book had been wrapped nicely in a paper bag and deposited in your backpack, Helmut held the door open for you like some sort of gentleman and followed you out into the grey afternoon.

Then, you were off down the street on Hel’s arm, pushing through the wind and the biting chill that had settled in the air.

“So, you don’t sound like a big fan of your dad,” you asked, half laughing as you attempted to broach conversation once again.

Helmut groaned beside you. “My father is a menace who is unable to understand that some people want more in life than to sit behind a desk all day making phone calls. In fact, most of my family is the same way. The only reason I haven’t completely cut them off and changed my name is the money,”

“I assume you get a lot of it if it’s worth sticking around someone you hate so much,”

“Never ask a man about his net worth,” he chuckled, gently elbowing you in the ribs, “but yes, I’m very comfortable. I have my own apartment just far enough away to be considered off-campus with my own car and as much money as it takes to keep me happy and getting good grades; Daddy makes sure of that,” The word daddy was a deep sneer, barely there in the wind, but something about it sent butterflies through your stomach. Well, that was never something you thought you were into… “Little does he know, I’m not here to make money. I’m here to find inspiration worth my time while out from under his thumb,”  

You snorted softly. “Artistic and rich? You’re just ticking all the boxes, Hel,”

“Good for me. Would offering help on that essay of yours endear you to me further?”

“Absolutely,”

The next 5 minutes you spend discussing the Epic of Gilgamesh. Surprisingly, in one of the first stokes of good luck you’d had all day, Helmut seemed to be one of the only people on earth who knew plenty about Enkidu off the top of his head. When he was the one lecturing you in his smooth, heavily accented timbre it was so much easier to pay attention to something so very tedious than when you heard it from your aging and often monotone professor. In fact, you were so enthralled by his retelling of the tale that you barely noticed you’d made it all the way to the cafe that sat across from the international dorm.

If you didn’t consider Hel to be smart as a whip and twice as clever as he was smart, you would have thought it was a coincidence. It couldn’t be though. No, there was no way anything was a coincidence with Helmut around. You shot him a smile when he opened the door for you and ushered you inside.

“You know Hel,” you muttered, “I’m starting to think you might know more about me than you initially let on,”

He shrugged. “You’re American, so it’s unlikely you live anywhere else and I wanted to make the walk home easy. It’s supposed to rain, you know? Besides, despite the… interesting waitstaff, they make the best pastries in town right here in this cafe,”

“Did you mean it when you said you were paying?”

“Absolutely,”

“Then I can’t wait to try one,”

The two of you were seated quickly (you assumed it had to do with the waitress finding Hel as hot as you did, because you caught her looking at him from behind the counter and whispering excitedly in Sokovian to her coworker at least twice over the course of the meal) and the conversation flowed easily as you waited on your coffees and the deserts Helmut insisted on splitting to let you try. Millefeuille, pear tart tatin, chocolate devil’s food cake, and a towering plate of apricot kołaczki awaited you, and they kept you sitting and talking and snacking for over an hour as you really got to know each other. The more you learned, the more you fell in love with the man across from you.

Over the course of the afternoon, you learned that Helmut was majoring in studio art while minoring in psychology just because it interested him, he hated the Beatles almost as much as he hated Freud’s theories on women, his favorite color was purple, and he spent most of his free time reading or getting high off his ass in his massive studio apartment in what you now knew was one of the most expensive areas in the city. He, in return, sat at rapt attention across the table as you gushed about your life in America, your reasons for going to university in Sokovia, your favorite books, and the ridiculousness that was trying to pass college-level classes in a country that seemed to avoid English at all costs.

Eventually, though, you did touch upon his nickname.

“I just thought it was really interesting that you did the same thing every single day, no matter what,” you explained, grabbing one of the last kołaczki from the plate and ignoring the powdered sugar that stuck to your fingers, “and by watching you… I don’t know, I guess it kind of felt like I had another friend who’d share breakfast with me in the morning if that makes sense,”

Hel nodded, swallowing his last bite of chocolate cake. “I understand completely. It can be lonely, coming to a new place without any friends or connections, but you were brave enough to take the leap. I admire that,” He brought his napkin to his lips before crumpling it and setting it one of the now empty plates before him, “But I can’t say I’m not a little disappointed that you didn’t watch me because I’m attractive,”

You nearly choked on your pastry. “Well, I wouldn’t say your pretty face didn’t help…”

The grin that spread across his face was heartstopping. He grabbed a napkin from the little holder next to the two of you and grabbed a pen from one of his pockets as he spoke. “In that case, you should join me tomorrow morning. Bring coffee if you can, I never have enough hands to bring a cup for myself, but even if you can’t bring some, if you want to come and watch me work I’d be more than happy to have a companion for the morning,” he paused for a moment, flustered, “or every morning, for that matter,”

“That sounds like a deal,” Your cheeks were hot, but not from embarrassment this time. No, it was anything but, because here you were across the table from a kind, attractive, intelligent Sokovian boy with money to spend and time to spare for you. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud too. He wanted you back, after all. You could see it in the way his eyes lingered on you just a little longer than he should, and even more plainly in the way he wrote his phone number in bold blue ink on the napkin and signed it with a doodle of a heart before passing it across the table to you.

“I’m going to go pay,” he said quietly while standing, “but I’ll be back in a second to walk you out. Alright?”

“Alright,”

There was something strangely similar to sorrow sitting in your chest when you watched him walk away. The sight of his ass as he went made up for it, though. Once he was obstructed by other patrons, you turned your attention to the napkin in your hands. Hel’s handwriting was neat as far as artists’ handwriting goes, but it still held a sort of looseness in its curves, a freedom in the way the numbers had flowed effortlessly from his pen. You popped the last kołaczki in your mouth as you admired the blue ink before devouring the final bites of pear tart and millefeuille. How had you gotten so lucky to have someone like him giving you his number and buying you pastries? You pondered the bizarre nature of it all until Helmut returned.

You stood quickly, folding the napkin and putting it away in your pocket. “Ready to go?”

“If you are,” he replied. In an instant, you were standing beside him again as he opened the door for you. The wind was even stronger now, strong enough that his loose hair whipped wildly around his forehead from the force of it. You couldn’t help but giggle at his appearance.

He caught you off guard as he walked you across the street. “You have such a pretty laugh,”

It was like you were seeing him again for the first time. You fiddled with the strap of your backpack as you got closer and closer to the door to your dorm. “Thanks. I’m pretty fond of your laugh too,”

Then, you were there, just two college kids standing awkwardly before your first departure.

“So,” you said before you could stop yourself, “when I tell my one friend all about this afternoon after my math class tonight, should I say it was a date?”

Hel’s cheeks flushed pink. “You can call it that, if that’s what you would like it to have been,”

“I think I would,”

“Good, good,” he let out a little chuckle, “I’m glad. Would you… would you consider going on another? I promise I have much more to offer than just small talk and tips on where to buy the best pastries,”

Looking into his brown eyes, so full of uncertainty and hope, you knew you couldn’t have denied him even if you wanted to. Still, you weren’t going to give in to his advances without a little bit of taunting. It made it fun, a game to be played where, hopefully, you both would win big in the end.

“That depends,” you teased, letting your lower lip catch between your teeth, “what do you have in mind?”

Helmut shoved his hands into his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels, pensive. “If you want to, we could go to my place and I could actually show you all of the paintings I’ve been working on while you watched me. The view from the rooftop is lovely too. We could have dinner up there while looking out over Novi Grad. I have to warn you, though, it’ll probably be takeout. I’m an atrocious chef,”

Slowly, a brilliant smile spread across your face. “Does Friday work?”

The smile Helmut shot back was as bright as every star in the night sky and even more enthralling. “Friday is perfect. Can I pick you up at 7?”

“As long as you come in that fancy car you were talking about,”

“Then it’s a deal,”

“Well,” you turned away, walking up the steps towards the door before turning back to him, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Hel, and I’ll bring coffee. Have a good night,”

“You too, Y/N. Parting is such sweet sorrow and all that,”

With that, he gave one last short wave before turning on his heel and pulling out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. You watched him walk away until he turned the corner and disappeared from view. Only then did you enter the punch code and race up the stairs to your room.

Your back was pressed to the door of your dorm room the second you had shut it, your hands clutching at your chest in a desperate attempt to keep your heart from beating right out of your ribs. The second you were in the privacy of your own place, your cool facade had melted away to reveal just how much of a wreck you really were.

He had invited you over to his apartment.

He liked you.

Easel boy really, honestly liked you.

No, not easel boy. Helmut. Hel.

Hel liked you, and he invited you over to his apartment, and you had plans to meet him with coffee as he painted the next morning.

You smiled softly under the fluorescent lights and pulled the book that had brought you together from your backpack. It seemed so unassuming now, just a fresh paperback with an unbroken spine, but in reality, it was so much more than that.

Hel.

It was such a nice name. You liked it a lot.

Now you couldn’t wait to see what else you liked about him too.

------

a/n: I have been so excited to start sharing this AU with you guys, and it’s finally here!!! If you liked this fic, I once again will direct you to Bliss by @creme-bruhlee​ because that’s technically next in chronological order for this AU. I hope you enjoyed!!!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 ,  @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @avgravy , @wh0re-4-techno , @forcebros , @sugarsweetkiss , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff , @killsandthrills , @novasstudy , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp , @inmate-marmalade, @alanathedeer , @your-pixels-are-showing , @shit-post-things , @bbarton​ , @sux-ubus , @halefirewarrior , @janelongxox , @rax-writes , @mossybank​ , @simsiddy​ , @xxspqcebunsxx​ , @be-cautious-around-bri​ , @metaphorical-love-for-a-car​ , @frothonthedaydreams​ 

[multiple-fandomimagines]

Breathe In

Pairing: Cullen Family x Female!Reader (Platonic), Quileute Pack x Female!Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Reader is the youngest addition to the Cullen family. Being a human with severe asthma causes your family to be extra protective, especially if they aren’t always around to help.

Word Count: 4128

Warnings: fluff, angst, near death experience, brief mentions of self-degrading thoughts

A/N: This is my first time posting my writing so feedback would be greatly appreciated! (Main account @hi-my-name-is-riley )

Being adopted into the Cullen family was nothing short of a blessing.

They quickly became the family you never had but had always wanted. Early on, you found yourself gravitating towards Emmett and Edward, the two quickly became your best friends.

It was not long after you had been adopted that they told you their secret. The revelation came after you saw Emmett uproot a literal tree and throw it at Jasper, who walked away completely unscathed.

The family made you feel loved. Your brothers were protective of you, as were your sisters. Carlisle would always find time to talk to you about school and how you were adjusting, while Esme kept the kitchen stocked with your favorite foods.

Being the only human in a family of vampires had its ups and downs. For instance, you always had help with your homework, and Alice was a fantastic stylist. On the other hand, you were still human, and that brought along human problems. 

When you were first adopted into the Cullen family, Carlisle was sure to inform everyone about your pre-existing health problems. 

Mainly, your asthma. 

You were diagnosed with asthma at an early age and had been able to use your inhaler and nebulizer, or breathing treatment, as you fondly called it, since before you could remember. But, just because you were used to your crappy lungs, didn’t mean that your new family was.

It wasn’t until a few months after you had been adopted did you have your first severe asthma attack. 

You were lounging on the couch doing your homework when you felt a tickle in the back of your throat. Hoping it would go away, you cleared your throat and drank from your water bottle, ignoring the occasional faint wheeze. 

Your chest gradually got tighter and tighter over the next couple of minutes, a wheeze now accompanying every breath you took. 

Rosalie, Emmett, and Edward, who were spread out around the room doing various assignments, looked at each other than at you in concern. They had heard you have small asthma attacks, but they had never heard you wheeze this bad.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Rosalie asked softly.

You were about to respond when your breath got caught in your throat. You made a choking sound before a cough violently ripped its way out of your mouth.

Cough after cough escaped followed by desperate gasps for air; your body jerking in tandem. Reacting on instinct, you scrambled for your backpack, ripped it open, and grabbed your trusty inhaler.

Within seconds, you were surrounded by your siblings, including Alice and Jasper who came running as soon the coughs started. They watched with pity as your face turned bright red, sweaty, and your eyes filled with tears. They asked you questions, but you were too focused on your breathing to answer. All they could do was watch.

It felt like hours until you were able to take a breath, but, once you could, you took a puff from the inhaler. This went on for several minutes, violent coughing and harsh breaths followed by the use of your inhaler. 

When the coughs started to subside, you looked up at the worried faces surrounding you, “Will one of you please help me to my room?” Your voice was hoarse as you gasped out the question. 

Strong arms lifted you from the couch and carried you at a human pace towards your room.

A pained look flashed across your face as you were hit with a second round of coughs, and you took another puff from the inhaler grasped tightly in your shaking hand. 

Emmett helped you onto your bed before sitting against the headboard and pulling you into his chest. The rest of your siblings filed into the room, eagerly waiting for any command or request. 

“There is a blue bag in my closet with a grey machine, some tubes, a mouthpiece, and medicine in it. Ple-” before you could finish the sentence, the bag containing your nebulizer was sitting in front of you. Blinking away the dizziness, you got to work setting it up. With shaky hands and a pounding head, you went through the motions that had become muscle memory: plug the tube into the nebulizer and the compressor, rip open the liquid capsules, squirt the medicine into the cup, hold the mouthpiece between your lips, plug in the nebulizer, turn it on. 

You paused as another round of coughs shook your body, you looked at Edward who understood what you needed and plugged the machine into the nearest outlet and flicked it on. 

The familiar taste of vaporized medicine hit your tongue, and you collapsed into Emmett’s chest, feeling the exhaustion deep in your bones. His cold, granite-like body cooled down your blazing skin and helped you stay elevated. As if reading your thoughts, he placed one of his hands on your forehead while the other combed through your hair.

“I thought Edward was supposed to be the mind reader.” You mumbled over the mouthpiece. 

“Shhhh. Just relax and focus on breathing.”

You nodded and closed your eyes, the whirring of the nebulizer lulling you into a light sleep. 

~~~~

“How long has it been running?” A voice from over you asked.

“About fifteen minutes. But she put two of these capsules in.”

“You should’ve seen it, Carlisle. She could barely breathe, but she managed to put the machine together in moments while we all just watched.” Emmett’s chest rumbled under your head as he spoke. 

“If you thought that was impressive, wait ‘til you see me do it when I’m having an asthma attack in the dark.” You joked, the mouthpiece still in between your lips. 

“How’re you feeling Y/N?” 

Opening your eyes, you saw Carlisle sitting at your side with Esme not far behind him. You allowed Carlisle to remove the mouthpiece and click the nebulizer off. 

“It’s nothing I’m not used to.” You dismissed, “What are you doing here, aren’t you two supposed to be at some fancy doctor event?”

“You gave your siblings quite a scare,” Carlisle chuckled. “They called saying you couldn’t breathe and we left immediately.”

“But I had it all under control, there was no need to come home.”

“We didn’t know that Y/N.” Rosalie snapped, concern swimming in her eyes, “We just sat around and watched, not being able to do anything, as our baby sister couldn’t breathe!” 

“What she means,” Alice shot Rosalie a look, cutting her off, “is that none of us knew you could get that bad and it scared us.”

“I could hardly read your thoughts,” Edward mumbled. When you looked at him confused, he explained, “You were so focused on your asthma that your mind went into autopilot. I had no idea what you needed or how to help.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, feeling guilty.

“It’s not your fault. It’s ours for not being properly prepared.” Esme insisted.

“Why don’t you get some sleep, and, in the morning, we’ll have a family meeting on how we can help you in the future. Alright?” Carlisle asked. 

You nodded, and your guilt was replaced with sleepiness thanks to Jasper. You cuddled further into Emmett’s chest, who chuckled and resumed petting your hair. You drifted into sleep after your parents and siblings had wished you a goodnight. 

Unbeknownst to you, your family had all stayed in your room as you slept, not able to bring themselves to leave your side after the evening you all had.  

~~~~

When Carlisle asked what triggered your asthma, your family was surprised at your answer. 

Exercise? Asthma Attack. Allergies? Asthma Attack. Cold Weather? Asthma Attack. Laughing? Asthma Attack. Sneezing? Asthma Attack.

Lungs couldn't make decisions, meaning Alice was unable to see when or where you would experience your next asthma attack. If there was one thing your family despised more than anything, it was not knowing when you could be in danger. So, after that night, they had gone a bit overkill with the asthma thing.

While you taught your siblings and Esme everything they needed to know about your asthma (how to work your nebulizer, the importance of staying elevated, keeping your body cool, etc.), Carlisle managed to get an inhaler for each of your siblings on the off chance that you lost or misplaced yours, and there was an emergency.

These small pieces of life saving plastic became their prized possessions. At any given time, they had an inhaler on them, even when they weren’t with you. They carried them while hunting, shopping, in class, working on their cars, etc. 

Bella had even mentioned how, on multiple different occasions, she had felt the hard plastic of the inhaler in Edward’s pocket while they cuddled. (Talk about a cock block)

In the beginning, it was overbearing. You couldn’t blame them for being worried—you knew that seeing you that night had terrified them. That being said, having five inhalers shoved at you every time you so much as breathed funny got very old very fast. 

It took some time, but, after constantly reminding them that you had your own inhaler and promising them that you would go to them if it was an emergency, they eventually settled down. 

~~~~

It was a beautiful spring afternoon. It had rained the night before and left nothing but sunshine and a cool breeze. Your family had plans to go hunting that day—which meant that you and Bella were going to spend the day at the reservation. You enjoyed spending time on Quileute land. It meant you got to cook with Emily and mess around with the other wolves.

When word of the Cullens adopting a human reached them, they insisted on seeing you once a month to make sure that you remained human. You were nervous when you first met Sam and the others, your family telling you all about their secret and the treaty. But, to nobody’s surprise, you all got along amazingly—Sam, Emily, Paul, and the rest of the pack treating you like family. The only member of the pack you didn’t get along with was Jacob. Your family meant everything to you, and you were not a fan of Jacob’s need to be involved in your brother’s love life. But, for the sake of the treaty, the two of you acted civilly towards each other.

Edward had pulled up to the treaty line with the usual pained expression on his face. Jacob stood against the hood of his car on the other side of the line with an excited smile. Bella and Edward quickly said their goodbyes before she hopped out and went towards Jacob. Edward watched on with jealousy as he read Jacob’s thoughts. 

“Don’t worry Eddy, nothing will happen while I’m here. After all, I’m still a minor.” You teased him, leaning over the center console. 

Edward chuckled. “You’ve been spending too much time with Emmett.”

You shrugged, not agreeing or disagreeing. Just as you were moving to sit back and get out of the car, Edward’s arm grabbed yours. Turning back, his eyes bore into yours.

“Be safe and have fun okay? We’ll be back in a couple of hours. Carlisle, Emmett, and I will have our phones on us so do not hesitate to call. Do you have your inhaler?” 

“I have my inhaler, phone, and I’ll do my best to stay safe. You don’t need to worry about me.” 

“I always worry about you.” He huffed and kissed your temple.

You smiled at him, “Love you too. Now, go kill something big!” You exclaimed, sliding out of the car and heading towards Jacob and Bella. You didn’t need to turn around to know that he was rolling his eyes. 

Jacob pulled up to Sam and Emily’s house. The car was barely in park before you jumped out and scurried towards the house, Bella and Jacob’s banter making you nauseous. The house was abnormally quiet when you walked in, the only sounds coming from the kitchen. 

“Emily?”

The clamoring of pots and pans came to a stop, Emily peeking her head around the corner, a big grin plastered on her marred face, “Y/N, you’re here!” She pulled you into a hug, “The rest of the boys are out patrolling and enjoying the nice weather, but you’re just in time. I was about to start making muffins!” 

You were easily the closest to Emily, the two of you quickly bonded over your mutual love of cooking and baking. Time flew by as you and Emily gossiped and cooked up a storm, making enough muffins, cookies, casseroles, and trail mix to feed the pack. Before you knew it, the front door was opening and Sam, followed by Embry, Quil, Jacob, and Bella, stepped into the house. Greetings were thrown around before the boys dug into their food. 

You took a seat across from Bella, between Quil and Embry. You watched the two boys with a look of disgust as they tore into the muffins. Sam, Emily, and Bella laughed at your face, bringing the attention to you. 

“Got a problem Y/N?” Quil asked, purposely smacking his mouth near your ear.

You shoved him away, “With you? No. With the way you eat? Absolutely. Just ‘cause you two are dogs doesn’t mean you have to eat like it.” You teased, attempting and failing to hide your growing smile. 

The two wolves made eye contact over your head, exchanging silent words. 

“You asked for it,” Embry exclaimed before him and Quil attacked your sides, tickling you. 

“Say uncle!” 

“Never!” You squealed.

This went on for what felt like hours before Sam heard you begin to wheeze, “Boys stop torturing the poor girl and eat the food she helped make for you.” His command brought their actions to a halt. 

You sent the alpha a grateful look as you attempted to catch your breath. A wheeze had begun to sound from your chest. It was accompanied by a familiar tightness that didn’t immediately worry you but made you hyperaware of where you placed your bag. 

Just as you started to feel comfortable, a different set of hands grabbed your sides. The surprise of the attack combined with the onslaught of fingers tickling your sensitive sides caused your wheeze and chest pain to come back with a vengeance. You couldn’t see who the culprit was, quickly becoming overwhelmed with the burning in your chest as coughs and laughs competed to escape your body at the same time. 

“Paul stop! She’s having an asthma attack!” Bella’s voice echoed in your ringing ears. 

The hands on your sides retreated. Before you could register what was happening, your chair was turned around and Bella was crouched in front of you. 

“Hey, hey, you’re gonna be okay. Where is your inhaler?” 

Taking a deep breath you managed to wheeze out a response, “M-my bag.”

You heard the sound of what you could only assume was the contents of your bag being dumped onto the table as you did your best to take steady breaths. Despite your attempt, coughs kept escaping. 

“It isn’t in here, Bella! What do we do?” 

Panic started festering in your stomach. How could you be so stupid to forget your inhaler? You swore you put it in your bag!

Bella stood from her spot in front of you, combing her fingers through her hair while she thought. She knew second hand how bad this could get, and Bella didn’t want to take any chances. Not only were you her boyfriend’s baby sister, but she considered you family, and when the two of you were on the reservation, you were her responsibility. The two of you looked at each other and you nodded, silently giving Bella the go-ahead. “Hand me my phone, I need to call Edward. Emily, take my place and try to get her to match your breathing.” 

Emily kneeled in front of you and looked at you with sympathy.

You avoided looking her in the eye, too embarrassed that she, and the other wolves, had to see you like this. You weren’t a pretty sight, bright red, sweaty, heaving for air, and sputtering out skull rattling coughs. 

As if sensing your embarrassment, Emily rubbed your back comfortingly, reminding you of Esme. She muttered what you could assume were words of support that you couldn’t hear over the ringing of your ears.

On the other side of the room, you faintly heard Bella talking to Sam. You only managed to make out a few words—“Emmett”, “inhaler”, and “treaty line”, but that was enough to make your panic slightly subside. You were going to see your family soon, and everything would be okay.

Next thing you knew, Sam, Bella, Paul, Quil, and Embry rushed out the door and piled into Sam’s car. Jacob picked you up bridal style, Emily making sure you were secure before he sprinted out of the house in the direction of the treaty line. In a last-ditch effort to calm your lungs, you did some breathing exercises that Carlisle taught you to no avail.

Your cough continued to get worse as Jacob ran, your face slowly going from red to a light purple as you struggled to get enough oxygen. Jacob’s hot skin pressed flush against your own, combined with your gasps for air, made you feel like you were burning alive.

You had never experienced an asthma attack this bad before. 

At that point, you were barely coughing anymore, just desperately choking for air. All you could think about was your family. 

Esme didn’t deserve to lose another child. 

The blue skies and green treetops blurred as tears started to stream down your cheeks. You were terrified that you wouldn’t make it to the treaty line. Panic overtook you as dark spots clouded your vision, and you continued to heave for air. You closed your eyes, accepting that you were going to die from an asthma attack in the arms of someone you didn’t even like that much.

“We’re almost there, little Cullen, don’t give up on me yet.” You could only respond with more pained sounds causing Jacob to mutter some swears before pushing himself to run faster. 

You were teetering on the edge of consciousness when you were passed into a pair of cold arms, goosebumps breaking out on your skin from the drastic temperature change. A piece of hard plastic was placed between your lips, the familiar taste of albuterol on your tongue. Despite your instincts to inhale, new coughs pushed the medicine out over and over again. 

The sound of screeching tires and muffled voices registered in the back of your brain. You felt your body being rearranged, your back pressing up against a familiar hard figure before the plastic was placed back between your lips. 

“C’mon Y/N. Please breathe.” 

You did what the voice said, doing your best to breathe in when it told you to. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before the ache in your chest started to subside. Opening your eyes, you took in Carlisle’s relieved face. Your father was kneeling in front of you with one hand cupping your cheek, the other holding your inhaler to your mouth, giving puffs every sixty seconds. 

“There you are.” He whispered. 

Looking around, you noticed your back was against Emmett’s chest, his hands on your neck and forehead trying to cool you off. Edward was kneeling beside you, your shaky hand held firmly in his own. Behind him stood Bella, worry evident on her features. On your other side, a few feet away, on the edge of the treaty line, were the wolves, all in varying degrees of distress. Paul looked the worse out of all of them with tear streaks staining his cheeks. 

“Breathe in,” Edward whispered. 

You did as he said and Carlisle gave you another puff. 

“Can you say something please?” Emmett begged after another moment, fear obvious in his voice. 

In all your time with the Cullens, you had never heard Emmett sound that desperate before, and you felt guilty knowing you caused it. You swallowed hard, throat raw, “I-I’m sorry.”

You spoke at a barely audible level, but that didn’t stop the supernatural creatures around you from letting out huffs of relief. 

“You have nothing to apologize for darling.” Carlisle’s thumb wiped away your tears.

“Your inhaler fell out in my car. You couldn’t have done anything.” Edward informed you, lightly squeezing your hand. 

“It’s not your fault Y/N. It’s mine, I’m so sorry.” Paul apologized from across the invisible line. 

Growls emanated from your brothers, their dark eyes trained on the shifter. You could feel the tension between your brothers and the wolves, but Carlisle was quick to stop anything from getting out of hand. 

Handing the inhaler to Edward, Carlisle stood up and headed towards the wolves. Their conversation was quiet and short, Carlisle no doubt expressing his gratitude towards Jacob for getting you to your family so fast and then telling Sam that he’d send you with an extra inhaler to keep at his house next time you visit the reservation.

You looked at your brothers in confusion when they softly chuckled at something Sam had said. Turning around, Edward looked at Bella, “Giving commands to pack alphas now, huh?” 

“Badass,” Emmett smirked. 

“She’s family,” Bella said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

You went to speak when another round of unforgiving coughs racked your body. A whimper escaped your lips at the agony that accompanied it. Carlisle was in front of you in an instant. Edward gave you another puff, your hands still too shaky and weak to hold the inhaler on your own. 

“I want to go home.” You whispered as tears fell down your cheeks.

Emmett pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before gently standing up, taking you with him. You looked over his shoulder and gave a feeble wave bye to the wolves, who returned your wave with soft smiles and small waves of their own. 

Carlisle opened the door to Edward’s Volvo for Emmett and you while Edward started his car, and Bella took the passenger seat. He made sure you were comfortable before closing the door and speeding over to sit in the backseat with you. Edward toed the line between safely speeding and recklessly driving as he expertly swerved through the winding roads. 

Sat cradled in Emmett’s lap, coughs continued to plague you. They weren’t as bad as earlier, but they still hurt.

“Esme, Rose, Jazz, and Alice already have your breathing treatment and anything you could possibly need set up and on hand. You’re safe. Everything is going to be okay.” Emmett muttered, saying the last part for both your benefit and his. 

It wasn’t long before Edward pulled up to your family home. The car door was yanked open and you were taken into Jasper’s arms who sped you into the living room. He set you gently on the couch, handing you the mouthpiece of your breathing treatment before clicking it on. 

Looking around at your family, you couldn’t help the fall of fresh tears. 

“Oh, honey,” Esme muttered before taking the spot on your right, tucking you into her side. Carlisle positioned himself on your other side, rubbing your back.

You couldn’t help the thoughts and feelings that plagued you as you looked upon your perfect family. 

You’re a burden. A hassle to be around. They shouldn’t have to worry about a weak human like you.

Before you could begin spiraling to a truly dark place, Edward broke the silence, “Don’t think like that,” Your eyes locked with his, “You aren't a burden and neither is your illness or humanity. You’re our family, and nothing will change that. We love you.”

Your siblings echoed his remarks, and Esme squeezed you closer, kissing your temple. “You brought a light into our family that wasn’t there before. No illness is going to change the fact that you have blessed this family, and if you don’t believe me, then I’ll just have to convince you.” 

“I love you mom,” You whispered, tears freely flowing down your cheeks. It was the first time you had called her that, and it was a moment that none of you would forget. 

 With a soft smile, you snuggled closer to your mom and attempted to fight the exhaustion that plagued your mind and body in order to finish your breathing treatment.

“Go to sleep Y/N. We aren’t leaving any time soon.” Jasper joked.

You nodded, and, with a little help from Jasper, you dozed off in your parent’s arms, the mouthpiece still between your lips. 

You couldn’t have asked for a better family. 

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: fluffiest fluff ever, jealous amoreena, jealous spencer, the LaMontagne family is in this too !!

word count: 3.8K

from the beginning <3

He went to work with Y/N on Tuesday to fill out all the paperwork and officially become an employee at the D.C Public Library. He signed a contract, he was switched over to a different government healthcare, answering a million calls and emails all morning, he was officially not an FBI agent.

They had lunch together in the park, buying some sandwiches and walking across the street to a picnic table to talk about their days while they ate. He liked her co-workers, they all were shocked to find out she was “married” to him after being single the whole time she’s worked there.

They had plans to go get Amoreena from school a few minutes early, before heading to meet his mother, not telling her about the plans unless Diana had a bad day last minute and couldn’t see them. So far, according to the nurses, she was lucid and having a great day waiting for them.

“So about yesterday morning,” Y/N changed the subject, biting her lip like she was avoiding this.

“What about it?”

“Amoreena really wants us to have a wedding, I was thinking we could go up to New York for fathers day and have another fake wedding?” Y/N hypothesized her plan, hoping for Spencer’s approval.

He couldn’t help but smile, about to answer when he got an email on his phone. “I’d love to do that, it would be nice to go on a vacation with just as the three of us.”

“You can check that,” she said, noticing he looked at his phone as it buzzed.

It was an email. Not from anyone he knew, it wasn’t about work or healthcare, it wasn’t his mom or Penelope sending him funny things from the internet…

No, it was from Taylor Swift. He tried his best to calm his facial reactions and micro-expressions so she’d think it was just something work-related. An emailed contract, updated health forms, nothing too serious.

To: Spencer Reid From: Taylor Swift Subject: Amoreena

Hey Spencer!

Portia reached out and said that your wife and daughter are huge fans and you were interested in some summer tickets in Virginia… I was thinking if you guys ever found yourself in Rhode Island you’d all want to come to my place, my doors always open for friends 💛 Love Taylor xx

“What?” Y/n asked, trying to read over his shoulder as he turned the phone away.

“It’s a surprise,” he said, locking his phone and putting it in his pocket to reply to her later. “Have you ever thought about a beach wedding? Rhode Island is pretty nice in June.”

She tilted her head as she bit back a smile, wondering what he was planning, “Amoreena will have us reenact the little mermaid 2 instead of Enchanted then, just fyi, but yeah that sounds fun, we should get a beach house on Airbnb for the weekend.”

“Okay, let me handle it all, you don’t need to plan a single thing, just show up with a dress?” Spencer offered, knowing how scared weddings made her now.

She kissed his cheek softly, resting her chin on his shoulder as she leaned over on him, “nothing fancy or crazy okay?”

“Define crazy?” He teased her… she really had no idea what was coming.

To: Taylor Swift From: Spencer Reid Subject: RE: Amoreena

Thank you so much for the quick response and generous offer, we were thinking of having a small elopement in Rhode Island with just the three of us over Father’s Day weekend if that works for you? Seven is the song we danced to at our intimate personal wedding, however, Amoreena’s pretty sad she didn’t get to witness it, that’s why we’re having another one with her. (And hopefully you!) Thank you for making my girls so happy over all the years that I didn’t know them yet, you’re probably their favourite person in the world, even more so than me! It would mean everything to them to meet you or see you in any way, you’re incredibly kind for this.

Thanks again, Spencer Reid x

He tried his best to be as calm and nice as possible in his response, still managing to rant a little even in text format. It was just how he communicated, either not at all or all at once. He was so excited for Y/N and Amoreena.

“So you said your mom has a scrapbook,” Y/N changed the subject after Spencer spent 5 minutes in silence, turned away from her as he answered an email.

“She does, she’s going to show you a lot of photos of me today,” he smiled at the fact she remembered.

“I know you want to tell her about Amoreena alone before we come in, so I made her something for her scrapbook, it’s back on my desk drying,” Y/N was so precious as she got excited, that same giddiness he see’s in Amoreena bursting through her.

“Okay, let’s go see it,” he put his phone in his pocket and followed her back across the street towards the library.

On some beautiful floral scrapbook paper, Y/N glued an array of photos of Amoreena from the beginning all the way to the museum trip last week.

A photo of her first round of IVF, dated February 19th, 2013. Exactly 1 month after he donated, she must have chosen his sample as soon as it entered the system, even a photo of the sample jar reading “sample 2319”, A photo of her crying in the garden with her grandma when she found it she was pregnant, wrapped in a big coat and surrounded by snow. Her pregnancy announcement being a baby sock on a stuffed toy Sully from Monsters Inc, "new door opening November 2013!" Amoreena has been surrounded by references to books and movies since the beginning.

There was a photo from the moment Amoreena was born, crying and brand-new, resting on Y/N’s chest as she sobbed, more beautiful than he’s ever seen her before, completely in love with the child she made.

Amoreena Margery Y/L/N - November 13th, 2013, 9:53 pm 7lbs 12oz, 21 inches of perfection

“Her middle name is Margery?”

“Yeah,” she smiled back at his ever glowing face, wondering why it was so important to him. “Like Margery Kempe, my grandma’s favourite.”

“She’s my mom’s favourite too,” Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, it was such a strange turn of events. He saw so much of his mother in Amoreena just for her to have a middle name related to her.

Y/N couldn’t believe it, “I’m so excited to meet her!”

“I just hope she’s okay today, truly,” Spencer worried. “She is my best friend and a great mother, don’t get me wrong. But some of the things she did to me on her bad days were scary, and I never want Amoreena to experience that.”

Y/N pulled him into a hug, “it’s hereditary isn’t it?” He nodded against her shoulder as she tried to soothe all the impending anxiety out of his body. “I’m not going anywhere, she won't have to raise herself and care for you, that’ll never happen to her.”

She guessed, and she was right. Reading his mind like she’s already been in there and watched all his trauma, she knew all the right words and how exactly to push his feelings away. She was sunshine clearing his grey skies once more, about to cause a drought so he’d no longer rain on his own parade. Marching beside him, hand in hand into the future.

—

They waited at the gate of Amoreena’s school, none of the other parents were waiting yet, giving Y/N a chance to show Spencer around the yard and tell him about her school. “She’s in senior kindergarten, she has a November birthday so I opted to send her in when she was 6 instead of 5, giving me an extra year of home pre-school.”

“That’s why she’s so smart, not my genes,” Spencer smiled, walking around the edge of the gate with her hand still in his.

“They want her to jump right into grade 5 next year, I said no, she deserves a childhood with children she doesn’t have to compete with or see her as a threat,” Y/N voice was stern even in the recounting like she knew from experience. “Because she’ll be 8 in November she’s going into grade 2 instead, then she’ll be in the same age range and mental level, but all her friends she knows in grade 1 will be in the same recess yard as her.”

“I went from kindergarten to grade 4, then I jumped to grade 6 when I was 9 and I graduated high school at 13, it was terrible,” Spencer agreed, not knowing if he had a place in the decision but wanting her to know he agreed with it.

“Let’s go inside and get her,” Y/N smiled at him, understanding his meaning perfectly and dragging him into the school.

“Hello miss Ludlough,” Y/N beamed as she entered the main office with her arm tucked under Spencers, showing him off slightly.

“Y/N, good afternoon! Do you need me to call that little angel down early?” The secretary was a lovely older woman, wrinkled and happy as she smiled back.

“No, I just need to get some paperwork to put her dad in the files?” Y/N surprised Spencer with that and he almost stopped breathing.

“Really?” He whispered, capturing her attention as her eyes twinkled up at him.

“I’d like you on her emergency contacts, if they can’t get ahold of me I’d like you to be with her,” Y/N confirmed, patting his shoulder softly as Miss Ludlough handed her a few forms.

Spencer signed everywhere he needed to, handing them his licence to be photocopied into her file for proof when he picked her up in the future. He was glad to see there was a system, that they cared for his little girl and she wasn’t going to be going home with anyone who wasn’t in that file. And if she did he had no problem hunting them down and getting her back in whatever way he had to…

He shook the thought out of his head as it arises, reminding himself that that isn’t who he is now and she would be fine. They lived in a happy world where bad things didn’t happen.

Y/N’s hand rubbing his lower back helped, he stood straight again and pushed the papers over the desk, smiling as he officially became her father on 3 different sheets of paper. That was as real as it could get.

“Spence?” He heard an all to familiar voice from behind him.

Turning to see JJ and Will smiling with wide arms, waiting for his embrace. “What are you doing here?” She asked him, voice high as she was clearly shocked.

He walked into her arms and held her quickly, “I’m here with my wife,” breaking the news to her in the most casual way possible. “Picking up our kid.”

“Y/N?” Will noticed her then, “holy shit, you’re the wife?”

She nodded with a smile, hugging will quickly like she has known him for years, “how are you, cowboy?”

Spencer and JJ looked at each other incredibly confused, JJ clearly didn’t know her so how did Will?

“Will and I have been on what, 6 school trips together? Michael and Amoreena are buddies,” Y/N explained with a soft smile, “I knew Henry and Michaels's names sounded familiar…”

“Nini thinks I’m a cowboy,” Will laughed lightly, smiling at Y/N the way he did at JJ and something in Spencer almost snapped thinking about Will being the one person between him and the girl he liked, once again.

Only this time she was his wife and not the cute media liaison who had no interest in him until he came out of prison.

“She was very upset when she found out that Will was already married, she wanted us to be Woody and Jessie from toy story,” Y/N had no problem ranting about how their kids got along and how good of friends they had become over the last 2 years of school trips.

Y/N noticed the anxiety in Spencer’s eyes as he pulled away from JJ and made sure no one was touching him, “luckily, our little girl’s got the best daddy in the whole world now and all her dreams came true.”

“She sure does,” JJ agreed, “Hey, I gave your mom all those books you gave me for the boys, when you were away, so she had something to keep remembering you with, you should give them to Amoreena.”

“I will, we’re going to see her tonight,” he was able to push past the feelings and enjoy the moment of his friends meeting his wife, even if the title was just pretend.

“I’m so excited,” Y/N shook her hands the same way Amoreena did, stepping into Spencer's space and wrapping her arm around him. “Can we pick her up from the room Miss Ludlough?”

“Sure thing, do you want me to call down and say Mikey’s parents are here too?”

“Yes, please,” JJ smiled over the counter.

With the four of them walking down the hall together to get their kids, Spencer felt like he was sleepwalking. Too many emotions were running through his veins to feel real, but then Y/N took his hand in hers and rested her cheek against his arm as they walked and he was fine.

She tugged on his arm and waited in the hallway while JJ and Will entered the classroom first, “what’s wrong, she’ll know you’re upset?”

He sighs, shaking the stupidity out of his mind. “I had a huge crush on JJ before they got pregnant with Henry, and when I came back from prison she told me she had always loved me and it got weird for a bit and I’m still kinda mad when I see Will bond with the people I love.”

“I was wondering when you’d get possessive,” she teased him, “I’m yours and I wouldn’t have your ring on if I wasn’t, no matter how another man looks at me, I only love you.”

“I’m sorry, I know.”

“It’s okay, you’re not used to this are you?” She saw right through it. “Am I your first real girlfriend?”

“Kinda, Maeve and I never even really met until she was kidnapped,” he admits and it sounds so childish in his mind.

“Okay we’ll talk about this later cause that sounds like a good story I should know,” she tried to smile, standing on her tiptoes to peck his lips softly before smiling more. “Let’s go get your kid?”

“Let's,” his smile returned.

They turned the corner into the vibrant room, Amoreena was talking to Will when she noticed Spencer at the door, running towards him and almost pushing Will over to do so, “Dad!”

He picked her up and snuggled right into the crook of her little neck, giving her the biggest hug he’s ever given and not realizing just how much he missed her until she was back in his arms again. His baby, the littlest life he’s ever held this close to his heart.

When he put her down he noticed all the women’s eyes were on him, hands over their hearts at the pure display of affection between father and daughter. They all saw him as her dad, they had no reason not to, giving him all the attention he’s never received before.

“What are you doing here?” Her tiny voice asked as she beamed at him with wonder.

He kneeled in front of her to get on her eye level when Michael came running over, “Hi uncle Spencer!” He tackled him into a hug.

“Uncle Spencer?” Amoreena’s brow furrowed as she scowled at the boy taking her dad’s attention, she pulled Michael back by his shirt. “That’s my dad!”

“Amoreena, honey,” Spencer tried not to laugh, she was definitely his kid, “Michels mom, JJ, is my best friend from work and I’m his older brother Henry’s godfather, they’re your cousins.”

She looked at him like he was insane, “what’s a godfather?”

“If anything bad happens to his mommy or daddy and they can’t take care of them, they’ll come live with us,” it was the simplest answer, “I’m not their father, I’m yours.”

She nodded and hugged him again, sticking her tongue out at Michael in the process, “why are you here?” She repeated the question.

Y/N was standing over him with a hand on his shoulder then, “we’re taking you to meet your other grandma.”

Amoreena started to shake with excitement, moving her hands and grinding her teeth as she smiles, shrieking with excitement, “I have another grandma!?”

JJ was watching from the corner of the room, secretly filming it on her phone for the rest of the team to see Spencer with his baby. A sight many of them never thought they’d ever see as he slowly lost hope, losing himself somewhere along the way and no longer wanting to accept their help. This was a big moment for the team too, their little brother was finally happy.

—

In the car, Spencer sat with Amoreena in the back seat so he could tell her everything about her new grandma. Or as Amoreena wanted to call her, Princess Diana, “I can’t believe you’re actually royalty!”

They all laugh at how her fantastic little brain works, “you can’t tell anyone that Princess Diana is in DC okay? It’s a government secret!” Y/N teased from the driver's seat.

“I’m like Princess Mia!” She screamed at the top of her lungs and Spencer was astounded she could be that loud.

“Okay, okay, not that loud! we can't scare any of the people who live here. They like it to be calm and quiet so the patients can be happy,” Y/N settled her down, “Dad is going to go in and tell grandma all about us for a little while and then we’ll go meet her okay? He wants to make sure she’s happy today before we go in.”

With that, they were pulling into his mother's care facility and he felt like he was going to be sick with excitement. He used to visit his mother with the fear of rage and disappointment in her eyes, he was too proud to let his anxiety take that from him today.

He kissed her forehead before getting out, Y/N handed him the scrapbook pages through the window and he leaned inside to give her a kiss too. Receiving a disgusted groan from Amoreena, he pulled away and walked into the building while they found a place to park.

She was waiting for him in the garden, sitting at a picnic table with her scrapbook and gifts for Amoreena. “Spencer!”

“Hey mom,” he smiled as he hugged her, “how are you feeling?”

“Fantastic, where is this family you made?” She was so ready to meet them, truly there inside her mind and willing to learn more about this life he was making.

“Sit down first,” he said softly, taking a seat beside her at the table and placing the scrapbook page on the table. “This is my Amoreena.”

Her fingers glided over the words, “Margery,” she repeated her middle name with a smile. “She has a sperm donor for a father?”

“I’m a sperm donor, mom,” he smiled softly as he broke the news.

She turned to him with shock, “she’s yours?”

“We think so, so that’s what we’re telling people, she’s mine regardless.”

Diana wrapped him up in another hug, “I’m so happy for you Spencer. You always deserved a perfect family, I’m sorry I couldn’t do that for you. I hope your dreams come true with her.”

Just like that Amoreena and Y/N were rounding the corner and walking over towards their table. She had a huge smile on her face and a card in her hand, walking right up to Diana and handing it to her.

“Hi, grandma, I’m Amoreena,” she introduced herself politely before stretching her arms out for a hug.

Diana wrapped her up in the softest little hug, trying not to cry in front of her brand new granddaughter, which was fine because Spencer was the one crying. Turning away from them so Amoreena wouldn’t see as Y/N patted his arm with a smile.

They were fast friends, Y/N and Diana bonding over Margery Kempe and while Amoreena opened the two gifts Diana got for her, a simple colouring book and Spencer's original copy of Matilda from when he was a child. She sat down in the grass and read it while they all caught up, lost in her own little world.

It was the most perfect afternoon, just him and his family, happier than he’s ever dreamed he could be.

—

He checked his phone one last time before bed, Y/N was sitting against the headboard reading a book and so deep in the story, he knew she wouldn’t be able to read over his shoulder.

Scrolling through everything from the day to see that yes, there was a response from Taylor Swift. It felt insane, but he opened it and started to read her plans.

Spencer!! You’re so sweet, I’m sure you make them incredibly happy! I’d love to have you stay in the guest house here, and I’m ordained if you need someone to make it real and official ♥︎ let me know what I can do, I’d love to help in any way to make some fairytale dreams come true! Taylor xx

Smiling like an idiot, he closed his phone. He’d reply tomorrow, till then he was going to snuggle into his wife and appreciate their time together.

She lifted an arm to let him lay against her chest, “today she woke up and decided to be an explorer, the little girl with the wildest imagination stormed out of her home and towards the unknown part of her land. It was her destiny to travel across the bridge and unite the people beyond the field, towards the pond that was swallowed by willow trees,” Y/N read the grandmother's thoughts from the page.

“With her wooden sword, she sliced and diced on the ivy that surrounded the gate. Freeing the hinges and allowing the entrance to swing open, unlocking a new area of the world for her mind to wander.

“For what the regular human eye saw, Amoreena saw it times a million. Every colour and then some, new colours appearing in the morning glow as she stared at the dew on the leaves she just chopped through. She saw the world in a way that made everything exciting, there was never a bad thing, only good things with interesting quirks.

“She passed every mushroom and toadstool, every strange-looking tree and human-shaped moss ball, greeting them with a good morning as she strolled through the once-forbidden forest. Her adventure only beginning, the objective not yet known.”

“Your grandma could see the future,” Spencer whispered as she turned the page, “that’s our wonderful little girl’s mind in words.”

Y/N kissed the top of his head, “our wonderful little girl.” She repeated the words, loving the way they sounded on his tongue as much as he loved how she said it.

Taglist: @shemarmooresfedora @spookyspence @spencers-dria @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187

[antipodeanpineapplelump]

WIP... Tuesday?

Just in case anyone was wondering what useless novelty project I’m spending my time on now, may I introduce:

Or more accurately: “Shisui Uchiha and the Saga of the Overly Complex Movie Poster that’s Taking Up all of the Author’s Writing Time.”

Or: “Shisui Uchiha and the One-off Story that Accidentally Turned Into a Trilogy, much to the Author’s Total Lack of Surprise.”

So anyway, I have 30,000 words (3/9 chapters of the first part) so far and as usual, no timeline for completing this story. But I’m definitely in too deep to back out now! My new approach to stories is to write the whole thing, then post week by week. So this one is still probably several months away at least...

But here’s a quick preview:

The list of things Shisui Uchiha regrets in his life is pretty small.

A handful of ill-considered one night stands, several embarrassing bets with members of his family, the summer he decided to turn emo, oh—and one particularly notable fuck-up early in his career that very nearly ended it prematurely. But, for the most part, it’s been smooth-sailing.

Sure, maybe the odd rival takes a pot shot at him here or there. Ancient booby traps try to kill him, or the local wildlife steps in where they’ve left off. He and spiders are categorically never going to get along. But he’s never had cause to regret his career itself. He loves everything about treasure hunting—the adventure, the danger, the intellectual challenge of it all. The way his heart races when he finds some ancient artifact supposedly lost for good.

So, all in all, his current position—perched twenty feet up a silk cotton tree in India, surrounded by about two-dozen armed thugs personally out for his blood—well, that’s just another day at the office.

Two of the men walk below Shisui’s hiding place and he holds his breath, watching. They’re thick-built meat-heads; improbable amalgams of every jackbooted thug to ever grace a movie screen, with jawlines Chuck Norris could break a fist on, and brows that would make a Neanderthal proud. Supressing the snicker that threatens to escape him at the thought, Shisui wonders where Gato keeps finding these idiots. Some sort of steroid-fuelled body building conference maybe…

Comfortable they’re far too stupid to realise he’s here, he swings his legs back and forward, checking his bag to make sure his prize is still undamaged. Thankfully, despite having beaten a hasty retreat through the crowded city streets, the jewel-encrusted golden elephant winks up at him like a winning lottery ticket. One that’s going to pay for fancy canapes, champagne and extra leg room on Shisui’s flight home. Then a lot more afterwards.

But karma, as they say, is a bitch.

And karma, for Shisui, makes itself known in the form of a fluffy grey creature that plops down onto the branch beside him, joined in short order by half a dozen other partners in crime. At first, the macaque just fixes its intelligent gaze on Shisui, as though assessing what to do with him. Then, one very pregnant pause later, after the apparent realisation that no food is immediately forthcoming, the ringleader opens its mouth and screams. Loudly.

Shit.

“No, shhh…” Shisui orders in a loud whisper. “Oh come on, don’t be an asshole.”

The screaming continues, soon swelling to a cacophony as the others join in.

“Shoo!” he pleads, waving his arms around to try and scare them off. “I’ll buy you bag of bananas or something when I get down from here, just please shut up…”

But the little bastards don’t stop and, if anything, Shisui’s heated objection only seems to be pissing them off more. Which is fantastic, because truly the last thing he needs today is to catch rabies or—

From the bottom of the tree, someone clears their throat. “Ahem.”

Or that.

It’s smug, officious, and quite frankly, about the last voice Shisui wants to hear right now. Every part of him sinks. On reflection, maybe it was a bit arrogant to think he wouldn’t have been followed to the temple. To think he was just going to walk in, pilfer a several-centuries old treasure, and walk out again, a comfortable five-figure sum the richer for it.

But then, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Sighing, he looks down to see his least-favourite human approximation of a turd. “Gato.”

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favourite globe-trotting Uchiha. Fancy seeing you here,” Gato says, appearing inordinately pleased. His trademark sunglasses sit awkwardly atop his bulbous nose, straddling a pencil moustache that looks like a worm met its unfortunate end on his face some years ago, and he never bothered to wipe it off.

For reasons he can’t currently articulate, it annoys the shit out of Shisui. Possibly because if there’s anything he hates more than someone getting the better of him, it’s someone who’s as much of a fucking waste of space as Gato getting the better of him.

“Yeah well, you know how it is,” he says, glancing around for a quick exit. “Ancient treasures to find, damsels in distress to rescue…”

But unfortunately, the crowd of highly armed men around Gato is growing by the second, and Shisui’s options are looking somewhat thin on the ground. At least, all the ones that don't end with him riddled in bullet holes. Damn macaques…

Gato grins. In the pre-monsoon heat, sweat rolls down his neck and spreads like an oily stain across his collar. “Oh, I’m well aware of how you operate... You’re a businessman, just like me. Always taking jobs for the highest bidder.” Before Shisui can open his mouth to disagree, Gato holds up a hand, adding, “I know, I know… you don’t see yourself that way. Moral code or whatever it is you like to call it. But in reality, the only difference between us is that you have the air of legitimacy that comes with an academic backing, whereas I’m willing to admit what I really want.”

“And what do you want, Gato?” Shisui asks flatly, already knowing the answer. The tired old game they’re playing here.

“That trinket you have in your bag.” Gato licks his lips, as though he can taste the champagne he’s going to be drinking once he returns the statue to whoever hired him, to disappear into some private collection, never to see the light of day again.

“What do I get in return?” Shisui asks, even though it’s obvious from Gato’s expression that he’s not going to like it, whatever it is.

A mirthless laugh assaults his ears. “I’ll let you live to cross paths with me another day.”

As offers go, it’s not very believable. But as much as Shisui hates to admit when his luck’s run out, even he can see the writing on the wall. Today really isn’t his day. Sure, he might trust Gato about as far as he could throw him, but even Gato isn’t stupid enough to shoot him on a main street, in broad daylight. Probably…

Retrieving the golden elephant from his bag, Shisui tosses it carefully down.

Turning the trinket over in his hands, Gato lets out a hum of appreciation. “Very nice. My client will be pleased.” He hands it off to one of his many thugs to box up, then peers back through the branches, looking more like a slug than Shisui would ever have thought possible. Reinforcing the impression, his lips twist with a slimy smile. “Well, as always, it’s been nice doing business with you Shisui. But I think, unfortunately, you’ve caused me trouble for the last time.”

Far too pleased for Shisui’s taste, Gato steps back, raising his hand in a gesture that looks awfully like it’s intended as a final farewell. Or a smug ‘fuck you.’ Either way, the message is perfectly clear.

Shisui rolls his eyes, mentally scratching off another predictable villainous turn on his treasure hunting bingo card. “All right,” he calls after Gato’s retreating back. “Nice doing business with you too! See you next time...” Under his breath he mutters, “Asshole…”

Truly, Gato doesn't have an original bone in his body. It's like he once read The Idiots Guide to Being a B-Grade Movie Villain, then internalised it on the spot to make up for a lack of anything remotely resembling a personality. But, pathetic imitation of a villain or not, his bullets are still effective.

The leaves around him shred beneath the pop, pop of gunfire as Shisui sucks in a rushed breath, bracing himself for what he’s about to do. The branch wobbles precariously beneath his feet as he races along it, pushing off into air that rushes past, disconcerting and empty. The slender gap to the building seems to widen to the span of a gaping abyss—

He hits the rail of the apartment with thud, clambering quickly over it to fall on his back on the balcony, winded, but mercifully unharmed. A macaque peers over the guttering at him, with a leering grin that clearly threatens more screaming.

“Don’t you start,” he warns, waggling a finger at it.

But there’s barely a moment to catch his breath before the sound of splintering wood below indicates another problem. Or an extension of the same one. Bounding to his feet, Shisui scoops up his hat, settles it back on his head, and checks over the railing. A bullet clips the plaster nearby—a pretty good indication that Gato’s men have every idea where he’s gone. That, combined with the way they’re currently pushing through the lower doors to the complex probably doesn’t mean anything good for him.

“Shit,” he announces to no one in particular. It’s times like these he really wishes he carried a gun…

Forcing his way into the mercifully empty apartment off the balcony, Shisui slips quickly through it. Cracking open the door on the far side, he checks the coast is clear. It is.

Of course, it doesn’t stay that way for long. Halfway along the open air corridor, there’s a cry of discovery from his pursuers, followed by more shooting. Seriously, why are the bad guys always bringing guns to Shisui’s knife fights?

Ducking, he runs faster, bursting into another apartment filled with hazy cigarette smoke and shocked faces before finally making it to an exterior stairwell on the far side. Looking at the next building over, it’s immediately apparent the gap is way too far for him to use the same trick he did before. But with Gato’s men advancing on him from below, maybe he can just make it to street level and bypass them altogether…

A thicket of power cables criss-crosses the span between the buildings, with one nearby running almost to the level of the shop awnings below. Sending a rash of silent prayers to whatever gods take care of Indian power line maintenance, Shisui detaches a length of rope from his belt and flings it over the wire, gripping each side like a makeshift zipline. Holding his breath, he pushes off into empty space. To his surprise and considerable delight, the line holds.

It sweeps him across the street, picking up more and more speed, until the side of the other building is rushing at him like—

Shit.

He impacts it with his shoulder, coming to an uncomfortable and jarring stop. Pain shoots down his arm and he lets go of the rope, crashing through a fabric awning and landing ungracefully in a huge stack of bagged flour. Dust floats down around him and Shisui groans, moving each of his limbs in turn. By some miracle, nothing seems broken. Not even his tantō in its leather holster at his back.

Oh well. Fall down seven times, stand up eight…

Apparently his exit was none too subtle though, because Gato’s men are leaning over the stairwell railing, yelling and pointing at the mess he’s made. Dragging himself to his feet, Shisui evades an angry store owner, brushes flour off of his clothes and resumes running for his life.

Never let anyone say archaeology is boring.

As he emerges back onto the main street, searching for quick and easy exit, the sound of screeching brakes and angry honking carries from the road. Cutting a wild path through traffic is an old open-top olive-drab Jeep with several gold charms dangling from its rear-view mirror. It jerks to a stop just before hitting Shisui, both side wheels riding up on the curb.

“Need a ride?” the female driver asks, grinning.

Her windswept hair hangs past the fashionable silk scarf tied at her neck. Unmanicured nails wrap around the slender metal of the steering wheel, like they couldn’t be more at home there. They’re a stark contrast with the cream suit linen she’s wearing, rolled up neatly to her elbows. Speckled with dirt, it looks like she’s probably travelled halfway across the country to be here, and been up to her elbows in the grease of the Jeep’s engine at some point to do it. She’s a walking contradiction—albeit one Shisui is delighted to see.

“Izumi!” he exclaims happily.

Eyes sparkling, she waves. “Hey.”

“I thought you were practicing on the course in Reno this weekend… What’re you doing here?”

A shot rings out, kicking up dust near one of the tyres. Glancing behind him, Izumi rolls her eyes, reaching across to throw open the door. “What am I always doing? Saving your ass, you idiot... Now get in before one of us gets shot, or I have to find out whether my rental insurance covers illegal firefight damage.”

[waatermelon-sugaar]

Half-Priced Chocolate

Words = 2.8k

Summary = You hate Valentine’s Day. Nick tries to change your mind. 

Warnings = One swear word

A/N = Reader is described as a similar height to Nick, and taller when she wears heels. Also I didn’t mean to write this, it just sort of happened so sorry if it’s not very well thought out ahaha

Posted to AO3

Masterlist

***

“You know, I’d pegged you as the type of girl who would do anything to ensure she had a Valentine’s date.” This observation comes casual as anything from your boss, Mayor Wasicsko, as the two of you work together to build beds in the town hall. 

A combination of a lot of snow, an early thaw, and then rain, had resulted in flooding all around the city, many having to be relocated. And so here you were, on a night that most were celebrating with their loved one across an over-priced bottle of champagne, some heart-shaped chocolate and probably something red themed, in the town hall, setting up extra accommodation with Nick. 

Who you should probably call Mayor Wasicsko in your head. 

You’d been here for hours, first building the beds with other volunteers, all of whom had melted away as the night had gone on. All, apart from you and Nick.

“Yeah? Well I pegged you as the type of mayor to sit on his ass all day.” You snipe back, not thinking for a moment, before slapping a hand to your mouth in horror. “Sorry, Mayor Wasicsko, that was really unprofessional of me-”

You stopped your rambling, because … was he laughing?

You flip your end of the sheet the two of you are attempting to fit to the bed, successfully causing his end to yank out of his hands, flying up and causing enough of a breeze to dislodge his hair enough for a strand to flop onto his forehead. 

Not that you’d noticed. 

“I told you, call me Nick. And it’s ok,” he’s still smiling, annoyingly. “I just - you don’t have some annoyed boyfriend who’s sitting at home waiting for you?” 

You shake your head. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.” You finally tuck in the corner of the sheet at the top of the bed and move to the bottom. “And anyway, I hate Valentine’s.” 

Nick throws you a pillow and a case when you hold your arms out. “So you hate love? And happiness?” 

You roll your eyes at him, busy stuffing the case, leaving him to struggle with the duvet, gathering the new sheets for the next bed as you talk. “No. I just … I hate the commercialisation of it.” 

You wait for Nick to finish with the duvet, before attempting the next bed. “It’s like … so what? If my hypothetical boyfriend doesn’t get me flowers, and chocolate and some shitty card on this one specific day of the year, he doesn’t love me?” You scoff. “No thanks.” 

Nick tucks in his corner, thinking about his response. “I think it reminds people to be thankful for the people they love.” Oh God he’s one of those. As if he hasn’t managed to drop in the fact that he’s woefully single for the last two hours whenever the opportunity arose.

“Only romantic love,” you remind him. “And,” you continue, remembering more and more reasons. “It’s all over-priced anyway, and it’s just so couples can feel smug while they walk hand in hand down the street, trying to get a table to a restaurant, where the prices have been upped for two people, and so single people, specifically women, can feel shit about themselves?” 

You harrumph again, handing Nick the other end of the sheet. “There is good about it though.” He’s looking at you differently, and you’re not sure how, but maybe it’s because you’re having the first real conversation with him tonight, despite having worked for him for the last year. 

You’d talked before, of course, but it usually had something to do with politics, Nick ducking out of his office to ask your opinion on something, before returning back to his phone and papers. It had never been a two-way conversation like this, never nothing to do with either of your jobs. 

You raise an eyebrow, tucking in your corners as you wait for him to make his point. “What about the half-priced chocolate the next day?” And … he nearly has you. Until you remember a counter-argument.  

“So it’s back to its normal price?” 

Nick looks at you like he’s never seen you before in your life. But he changes tack, which you take to mean that you’ve won that particular battle. 

“And what’s wrong with celebrating love? Even-” He anticipates your response before you do, “-if it is just romantic love?” He grabs the pillow before you can, leaving you to struggle with the duvet this time. 

You’re smiling now, unable to help yourself, as you watch the Mayor of Yonkers, of all people, pick up a pile of bedding. He looks good like this, you think, shirt rolled up to his forearms, collar open, tie left behind somewhere with his jacket. Not that he doesn’t normally look good. 

You’ve become more relaxed too, you can feel it, as though every bed that the two of you have completed has shod you of another layer, making you feel lighter. Your heels are by the door, and you are a similar height to Nick without them, which you’ve never noticed before, either being taller than him, or sitting in his presence. There’s something weird about it, but also nice, in a domestic sort of way, as your stocking feet pad around the beds, occasionally catching on the wooden floor. You hope you don’t get a hole. Or worse, a ladder. 

But you know it’s your mind which has relaxed the most. Allowing you first to smile at his jokes, then joke back, the tension in your shoulders melting away. And now this. A deep conversation. Which you suppose was bound to happen, the two of you alone after the last volunteer had called it a night at 1am and gone home. But love? Really? 

“There’s nothing wrong with celebrating love. It’s just forced, somehow. Like you’re a bad person for not doing it, just because of some long-dead guy who’s now in our calendar.” You finish your duvet, and move to help Nick. 

“I think you’re wrong.” And maybe it’s the way he says it, like it’s the most simple thing in the world. “I think it makes sure that people take a breath and appreciate what they have.” 

He looks so hopeful, you stop the scoff in your throat, instead letting yourself consider his point. “Well it doesn’t matter, it’s …” You pause and check your watch, blinking in surprise. “Fuck. It’s four in the morning. It’s not Valentine’s Day anymore.” 

And then you look up. Properly. 

There’s one bed left. You turn around, admiring all the made-up beds. Ok they could be neater, but so what? 

“Well.” You turn back to look at Nick as he speaks. “Do you want to take advantage of those sales, or not?” 

You blink at him, even as he gestures at you to take the other end of the sheet, unsure if you’re dreaming now. 

***

When you exit the town hall, the sky is the cool blue of pre-dawn. Grey clouds still hang, heavy and angry over Yonkers, a precursor of the rain to come. It’s been a cold night, a glimmer of frost on the ground, but you can already feel that it won’t last the day.

You yawn, rubbing your eyes with one hand, while your other holds your heels. Nick’s thrown his blazer over one shoulder, the tie hanging out of his trouser pocket. “C’mon.” Is all he says as he walks towards his car. 

It takes a second for your brain to engage. “What?” Your voice has become hoarse from a lack of sleep.

“Can I show you something?” And how can you say no, when he leans against the car roof with one arm, opening the door for you, and looking like that?

Inside the car it’s warm, and tiredness sinks down on you until you can hardly keep your eyes open. Nick only asks for your address, which you give him, and then you’re asleep. You wake when he stops the car on the high street, but fall back asleep when he tells you he just needs to pick up some groceries. 

You don’t wake up when he comes back, nor do you wake up when he sets off again. You open your eyes when he gently shakes your shoulder. The sky is much brighter now, the sun peeking over the horizon and you blink, looking at your watch. It���s nearly 7. Which means Nick let you sleep for 2 hours. It takes a second for your surroundings to fall into place, green and brown surrounding you.

Nick’s sitting next to you in the driver’s seat. And in the back seat are his groceries. 

You blink again. Harder this time.

Praying your makeup isn’t smudged all down your cheek, you move to sit up straighter, where you’d fallen asleep against the window. “What … where are we?” 

Nick doesn’t answer until he’s grabbed one of the bags, clambering out and opening your door for you. “We are in one of the city’s finest parks.” He announces, using his Official Mayor Voice.

As far as you can tell, it’s a pretty basic park. The only notable point is the view. You can see the full scrawl of Yonkers below you, as the sun rises to your right, still fighting the storm clouds left over from yesterday. Funny. You’d heard there was going to be more rain. 

As you step out of the car, you put your heels back on, and wince a little. Nick hands you a blanket to carry and sets off towards a clear area without too many trees, and you follow him, spreading the blanket for the two of you to sit on. Nick’s put his blazer back on and you try not to be disappointed, reminding yourself that he’s your boss. 

He places the bag between you, and … it’s stuffed with half price Valentine themed food. Chocolates, champagne, even a small teddy. You can’t help it. You let out a laugh as the two of you sit next to each other, the bag between you. 

“I never knew the Mayor would be a cheapskate.” You’re only half-serious, and you think Nick knows this, catching the glint in his eye as he replies. 

“You’d rather I bought you this full price?”

You shake your head, grinning, but confused on the inside. You must be tired. Hearing that the Mayor, your boss, wants to buy you something for Valentine’s? You must be misinterpreting this. 

“And I’ll have you know, that everything in this bag came to less than what it would be in a normal month.” He winks and you groan, theatrical and over the top. 

So instead you open the chocolate, grabbing the first one you see and popping it in your mouth. “Nice though,” you mumble, without having swallowed your mouthful, savouring the sweetness of it as it coats your tongue, eyes closing as you lean back on the blanket, missing the way Nick looks down at you. 

“Yeah? Worth every cent, aren’t they?” You smile, shaking your head. 

“Yes, Nick.” You finally sigh, giving in. “Worth every half-price cent.” You squint open an eye, waiting for his reaction, glad when he laughs, propping yourself up onto your elbows so you don't fall asleep again. And then you look down, and your eye catches on a bottle of champagne. 

You reach for it, twirling it on the ground. “So Nick, seeing as how you’re the Mayor and my boss,” you start, sure you’re going to get what you ask for, “and we worked all night long, can we have today off?”

You look at Nick to see him watching your face, amused at the long winded way you’re going about this. Finally he nods. “Yeah I think we deserve the day off.” 

You grin widely then, sitting up properly with a burst of energy, and pop the cork. You take the first sip straight from the bottle, leaving a small ring of lipstick behind. You use your thumb to wipe it off before passing it over, the bubbles still tingling on your tongue, washing away the chocolate. 

Nick takes a healthy swig as soon as his hand is wrapped around the cool bottle, and you can’t help but watch the way his throat bobs when he swallows, wiping at a drop that escapes his mouth. 

You turn to the rest of the bag to distract yourself. There’s at least 3 boxes of chocolate, a pack of strawberries, and a small bear. All of them have the tell tale yellow half-price stickers in clear view. You pull out the bear, amused. “He’s cute.” 

Nick hands the bottle back to you, running a hand through his hair. “Got a name for him?” 

You think about it for a minute, before deciding. “Arthur the Fourth.” And you place Arthur at the bottom of the blanket, so he’s looking at the two of you. 

Nick frowns, looking between the two of you. “The Fourth?” 

You laugh, biting on another chocolate. “Yeah. Throughout my childhood, I have had three other teddies, all named Arthur. He will be the fourth.” 

“And you lost them all?” 

“No, I still have Arthur the Third.”  You wash the chocolate down with another sip of champagne, and when you go to scrub away your lipstick again, Nick’s hand stops you. He shakes his head, like he’s having a secret conversation within your public one. 

“Shame to hear about the first two though.” You let him take the bottle from you, watching as he - his mouth - touches your lipstick. You can feel your heart rate raise, thumping inside your chest like a drum. You can still feel the ghost of his hand, warm where it touched yours. 

You look down on Yonkers again, unable to cope. “Yeah, well. It’s how it happens in real life, I guess.” 

The two of you fall silent as the sun climbs pathetically further and further, finally disappearing behind angry storm clouds. Conversation is quiet observations, both of you feeling wrapped up in a bubble of tiredness. 

You lie back down, ignoring how the cold of the ground is seeping through the blanket now and closing your eyes as you take a chocolate from the box which you intend to be your last, and you can hear Nick’s smirk when he talks. “Chocolate’s not too bad then?” 

You just hum, pretending to think about it. “Yeah not bad,” you finally agree, opening your eyes and turning your head to watch Nick as he leans back on his hands, “But it’s not Valentine’s day so you haven’t changed my mind …” 

And Nick’s looking at you like that again, and you could never in a million years anticipate his next question. “So you wouldn’t count this as the best Valentine’s Day date you’ve ever been on?” 

You freeze, what? You decline in that moment to mention that it’s the only Valentine’s date you’ve ever even been on, and you also choose to ignore that it’s not Valentine’s Day anymore, shaking your head. You can’t quite believe what you’re about to say, heart beating faster than normal, blood thrumming in your ears. “I would count it as the best date I’ve been on.” 

And then you’re laughing at the look of shock on his face, quickly stopping when he ducks down to kiss you. 

Nick, your boss, the mayor of Yonkers, is kissing you. 

It takes you a second to respond, shock freezing you where you lie. But then your hands are on his neck, pulling him back down over you as he deepens the kiss, tongue exploring your mouth. His forearm is resting on the blanket next to your head, supporting his bodyweight, his other hand cupping your cheek. His moustache is tickling you slightly, but you don’t care. 

He tastes sweet, from the chocolate. But then, you can taste the bubbles from the champagne, you can taste how cold it was, you can taste the birds chirping in the trees above you, and you can taste how warm the sun’s rays felt five minutes ago.

It’s perfect.

Until the clouds open above you.

It starts gently, and you don’t feel it at first, and when you do, you ignore it, more interested in snogging Nick. Your feet are becoming wet quickly and the rain falls in large drops. 

Nick’s the first one to pull away, and you follow him, chasing his lips with your own, not wanting to open your eyes. When you do, you realise your feet are wet from the bottle of champagne falling over, and Arthur’s looking to be in danger of rolling away. 

You can feel the rain on your head, and the drops are falling faster. You snatch Arthur and the now-empty bottle up, Nick scrambling to get everything back in the bag. At the last second, you ball up the blanket, ignoring how it brings half the floor with it, and the two of you run towards Nick’s car, laughing as the rain soaks the pair of you. 

***

Thanks for reading! Reblog and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

[raysofcrosby]

CHANCES – M. TKACHUK

requested: yes | no

warning(s): none that i can think of.

word count: 5,066

listened to: chances by the backstreet boys

inspiration: mixed luggage au [ i can’t find the og au-prompt masterlist, but if this is your au idea, lemme know and i’ll link you for credit (: ]

authors note: listen– i don’t know what it is, but i’ve literally been on a tkachuk thing lately. like, i used to despise this little curly-headed gremlin, but now??? it’s all hearteyes motherfucker. this is purely a writing to help me get back into the writing groove again after these last six months of nothing– so i might be a lil rusty. anyway, i hope you enjoy <3333

part two | google doc w/ all parts | my masterlist | stuff i have planned | who i’ll write for | requests

I’m sorry Y/N, but if you’re not here in the next 5 minutes I need to keep going.

That text haunted you– it was all you could think about the moment you got off of your flight. The uber your sister had ordered for you was close to canceling– all because there were too many planes taxiing on the airstrip and your stupid flight ended up circling in the air for thirty minutes. If this were any other airport, no doubt you’d be screwed. Luckily though, you knew good ole St. Louis Lambert International like the back of your hand. So getting from point A to point luggage claim would be no problem at all. The only delay would be the luggage getting put out onto the carousel.

Which of course, did prove to be the problem at hand.

You were the first one from your flight at the carousel and hoped to be gone before any disgruntled passengers you managed to bump into, could show up. Unfortunately for you, just as the bags were being loaded onto the carousel, your fellow passengers were arriving too– more than a few giving you a look that would normally result in you rolling your eyes in response. Yet, your focus wasn’t on them, it was glued to the small carousel door, keeping an eye out for your suitcase.

Teal bag with a grey handle. Teal bag with a grey handle. Teal bag with a grey handle. Teal bag with a grey hand–

“Ah-ha!” You smiled, catching eye of your suitcase and rushing to meet it instead of letting it eventually make its way to you. You grabbed the suitcase and extended the handle to drag it away, already walking towards the exit.

One minute.

You had one minute to catch your uber before they left you and you hoped and prayed that luck was on your side and the black Toyota Corolla just happened to be parked near the door you chose to exit from. The warm summer air of the Missouri summer weather practically smacked you in the face and it fit wasn’t for the awning covering the pick-up zone, you would have no doubt been blinded by the sun too.

“Oh, thank God,” you sighed, catching sight of a black Toyota Corolla that your sister said to find, parked just six cars down to your left. You sped walked to the uber, coming to a stop at the window and waving at the driver, catching her attention. “I’m so, so sorry I’m late.”

The woman, probably in her early 60’s gave you a friendly smile instead of the scowl you were expecting. “Are you Y/N?”

“Yes ma’am,” you replied, nodding.

“Go ahead and put your suitcase in the trunk, it’s opened for you.”

You walked to the trunk and lifted it open, placing your suitcase inside before closing it and walking to the back passenger door, getting into the backseat. “Again, I’m so sorry for making you wait. We had to circle in the air for 30 minutes because of the traffic on the airstrip and,” you exhaled, relaxing back into your seat. “I’m so sorry.”

She laughed, pulling away from the airport. “It’s no problem sweetheart. I saw your reply. I was going to give you a little extra time. I know how hectic airports could be. Especially this time of the year. Everyone’s traveling for vacation.”

“Yeah, I think I might have accidentally elbowed one too many people trying to get to luggage claim.”

“Are you visiting or coming home?”

“Coming home…kind of,” you laughed, staring out the window at your hometown. “I actually just graduated from college a few weeks ago, so my roommates and I rented a house on the Jersey Shore to celebrate. But, my sister is getting married tomorrow, so that’s why I’m back.” You looked back towards her, laughing softly to yourself. “But then come September, I’ll actually be moving to Calgary for a new job and to get my Masters.”

“So a lot of traveling, I see.”

You took a deep breath and sighed, nodding. “Yeah, but I’m glad to be able to spend all of this time with my friends and family before I start working. Especially since I’ll be moving so far away.”

“It sounds like a great time,” she smiled, looking at me through the rearview mirror. “I’m a sucker for weddings, why don’t you tell me about it?”

Normally, you weren’t one to talk a lot whenever you and your friends would take Ubers downtown on the weekends– but this driver was sweet and you found yourself talking nonstop as she drove you towards your final destination. After all, she didn’t abandon you at the airport like you thought she would.

~

The car ride to your parents' place went by a lot faster than you thought it would and it was all thanks to Mrs. Sheila, your lovely uber driver. Whom, you learned, started driving after she lost her husband late last year. Her kids lived out of state and once they went back home after those first few weeks, she wanted to find something to do to keep herself busy and get herself out of the house– so, she became an uber driver.

Walking into your parents' house, you were greeted with empty echos of your footsteps. Your parents were still at work and wouldn’t be home until just a little before the rehearsal dinner tonight. Your brother, well, as far as you knew, he had absolutely nothing going on, so you didn’t know why he wasn’t around. If anyone was guaranteed to be home, it was your sister. She was the one who ordered your uber and had them take you here, so she was more than well aware of what time you’d be arriving home.

“Hello?” You called out, leaving your suitcase by the door and making your way to the living room. “Char, are you here?”

“Is that my favorite sister?” You heard her voice call out from upstairs. Looking up, you could see her rounding the hallway corner, carrying a closed laundry basket full of, no doubt, stuff for tonight’s bridal party sleepover.

“I’m your only sister,” you laughed as she made her way down the staircase.

“Unless you count all of the times we got bored and turned Nick into Nikki,” she giggled, reaching the end of the staircase and putting the basket down before stepping forward and hugging you. “How was the flight?”

“It was great up until our 30 minutes of circling in the air,” you laughed, pulling away from the hug. “Where’s my dear brother?”

“Working out with some friends. We probably won’t see him until tonight.”

“Nothing says welcome home like being greeted to an empty house.”

“Excuse you, I was here to greet you.” She laughed, picking the basket back up. “But if you really want to be upset, you should see all of the packed boxes in your room.”

“I leave in three months! Why are they packing me up now?” You gasped, acting dramatically.

“Nick and dad are planning on transforming it into some kind of training room or something.”

“But they–“

“Already took over the garage? Yeah, I know and mom is pissed.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the handle of your suitcase again. “He literally told the Blues that he was going back to Michigan in the fall to try and win a championship. Why the hell are they even treating him like he’s already a hall of famer?”

“Perks of being the youngest, not to mention dad’s only son,” she laughed, looking at the door. “Ready to head to the Airbnb?”

“Can we get food first?” You asked, dragging your suitcase along. “I’m starving.”

She laughed as you held the door open for her. “Good, because we’re most definitely getting food before we go and take a nap.”

You laughed, walking out of the house with her and then closing and locking the door behind you. “I knew we were related.”

~

Lunch and a nap turned out to be exactly what you needed. The two of you had stopped at a subway to get some food before driving over to the Airbnb that you, your sister and the rest of the bridesmaids would be staying for the night.

It was a beautiful three-bedroom, modernized cottage that looked like it was stripped directly from the pages of a fairytale book. It was tucked away, just off to the side in the backyard of a beautiful colonial house, whose farm would tomorrow be transformed into a whimsical fairytale wedding location. The men would be getting ready in the house, while the women would be getting ready in the cute cottage. Sort of like a secret getaway paradise before the wedding.

When you got back with your food, your sister took you on a tour of the property while the wedding planners and staff were setting up all of the bigger decorations for tomorrow. You were off at school during the entire planning process, only ever seeing every one of her ideas in pictures. The only things you were able to take part in, were the dress shopping and her bachelorette party since they were both held at a time you were on a fall break from school. Besides being there for those two things, the only other thing you helped with– was the proposal.

Colton has been in your life for as long as you could remember. He and Charlotte have been best friends since Pre-K. It was the cliché friends to lovers kind of story that was told time after time– but in theirs, there were no other people in it. It was just them. There were no other boyfriends or girlfriends, no other crushes– from the very beginning, they were it for each other. They were each other's first everything– kiss, date, girlfriend/boyfriend, time– in their love story, they had found their one great love…all before they turned five.

Wherever Charlotte was, there was Colton– they were stuck like glue and your parents loved it. It was their friendship that brought both of your families together to the relationship that you all had now. Your families were best friends, all because of their relationship. You often took vacations together, spent holidays together, hell, you and Colton’s middle brother, Mason, even had joint birthday parties– as did your two younger siblings, Nick and Addie. Your families even try to go as far as to dropping hints that all three kids should date.

Colton and Charlotte. You and Mason. Nick and Addie– all the same age and practically family already.

It was perfect.

Until you and Mason tried to date in the tenth-grade and realized that kissing the person you’ve shared every birthday party with, used to take baths with and shared every key moment growing up– wasn’t all that great. In fact, it was weird. So the two of you remained as the almost black sheep of the families, especially since Nick and Addie were headed down the same path as Charlotte and Colton. They started dating in eighth-grade– like Colton and Charlotte– and have maintained a healthy and strong relationship to now, even long-distance, when they’ll both be sophomores in college in the fall, Addie at the University of Missouri and Nick playing hockey at the University of Michigan.

You and Mason were there, always making jokes about how it runs in the family but skipped a generation. Never letting your siblings live it down that the two of you will be the ones to break the cycle. Funny how you two were also the ones who played the biggest roles in Charlotte’s engagement.

Both of your dads are huge St. Louis Blues fans. So naturally, they tried to rub that off onto their children. And it worked, all except for you. You tolerated the blues, but never really adopted hockey as your favorite sport. You understood it, watched it whenever you never had a choice– but like your mom, you gravitated more towards football and adopted her hometown team as your own– the Pittsburgh Steelers.

Colton and Charlotte, however, were both diehard Blues fans from day one. There were even pictures to prove it. They even went to a game on both their first ‘supervised’ date and ‘unsupervised’ date. So, when the Blues were making a run for the Stanley Cup– it was imminent for your families to attend at least one game. You and Mason did everything in your power to get the Blues attention. You emailed anyone and everyone who worked in their front office, you spammed their social media accounts– anything and everything to get their attention so you could share their story and Colton’s plan.

And at game four it all came to life. Charlotte was ‘randomly’ selected to participate in an intermission event after the first period where she’d be blindfolded and needed to walk along the ice to find Louie after collecting ‘Blues momentos’ along the way. The Blues had played the short slideshow of Colton and Charlotte that you and Mason had sent them, as they introduced her to the crowd. Unbeknownst to her, both of our families were on the ice with her, standing behind her while she was blindfolded. You and the other three siblings were scattered in front of her, each holding a single rose.

The Blues staff member helped her walk along the ice and the moment that she took a flower from someone, they needed to go back to where she started, which was where Colton was standing with the ring in his pocket. The four of you each had a sign, that when held up together read ‘Will you marry me?’ Once Charlotte neared Louie, he cut the distance to just by center ice where all of you were waiting. And when she found Louie, the entire crowd had erupted into cheers as she took off her blindfold, all smiles until she turned around to see the signs and Colton on one knee.

She said yes. The Blues won. The proposal went viral and your families were given a box to game seven where the Blues won the Stanley Cup.

All in a day's work between the two middle siblings, and one that led you all to this moment– the wedding tomorrow. Where Colton, who was already like a big brother yo you, would officially, pretty much become your big brother.

“Y/N,” your sister said, shaking your arm. “Y/N, get up. We’ve got like 45 minutes to get ready for dinner before we have to leave and no offense, but you need to shower.”

“Your lucky that you’re getting married tomorrow or I’d kill you,” you mumbled into the pillow, taking a deep breath and exhaling before pushing yourself up. “Can you charge my phone for me? I won’t take too long, just need to rinse off and I’ll be back.”

“In your backpack?” She asked as you walked out of the room.

“Mhhm, small front pocket. The charger is with it.”

You walked out of the room and into the connected bathroom, closing the door behind you before walking towards the shower and turning on the water. Your nap was more than enough to help you make it through dinner. You hadn’t thought that you were even that tired, but the moment you laid down to relax after eating your sandwich– you were absolutely knocked out.

To be fair though, you had spent the last two weeks partying it up on the beach with your college roommates, trying to relive every moment from your last four years of partying, downing booze, and making out with any attractive guy who caught your eye. You know what they say, no rest for the wicked– and boy, oh boy, were the wicked actions of shotgunning beers with strangers in the hot summer jersey sun, coming back to haunt you.

At least you got one hell of a tan and more memories to last you a lifetime, out of it all.

You turned off the shower before you stepped out and wrapped a towel around your body, then wrapping your hair up in a second towel. You walked out of the bathroom and back to the bedroom, only to find it empty. "Hey, Char?"

"In the living room...er, kitchen, I guess!"

You walked out of the bedroom and into the living room to see Charlotte sitting at the kitchen counter, a make-up mirror propped up in front of her and hot curling iron in her hand. "Why are you doing your hair in the kitchen?"

"You were in the bathroom and the lighting is lacking in the bedroom." She let a curl, fall from the iron and turned to you. "What's up?"

"Well, for one, the bathroom is free," you laughed, looking around. "And two, I was wondering where you put my suitcase? It was in the room and now it's not."

"No," she dragged out her reply, focusing on wrapping another piece of hair around the iron before averting her eyes towards the door. "You left it by the front door. Never brought it in."

You turned towards the front door and sure enough, right there not even three feet away from the door...was your suitcase. "Awesome, thanks!" You said, walking over and tugging on the handle, extending it out before walking back to the room. "And my phone?"

"Charging in the kitchen. It was dead by the way."

"Great," you huffed, walking into the bedroom and over to the bed. You lifted up the suitcase, letting it plop down onto the bed and exhaled a deep breath. It was a lot heavier than you thought it was. But maybe your body was just tired from traveling and last night's final night out.

You caught a glimpse of the alarm clock that was set up on the bedside table and saw that your getting ready time was vastly starting to dwindle. So, not thinking anything more of the heavy suitcase, you unzipped the zipper and threw the cover back, ready to grab the romper you had placed directly on top, just so it wouldn't get wrinkled. You stared down at the contents of the suitcase, quickly grabbing the cover and shutting it again.

Okay, maybe you were imagining things.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling, and then opening your eyes and opening the suitcase again.

No, you definitely weren't imagining things.

The same spike ball netting was still staring you right in the face. Surrounding it, were three spike balls and a crumbled up bag that was supposed to house the set. Beneath it, a bunch of crumpled up clothes and other things.

"No," you shut the suitcase again, repeating the same steps: close your eyes, take a breath, hope you're dreaming, open your eyes and then the suitcase, only to be disappointed. "No, no– oh my God, this can't be happening. Charlotte!!"

You heard her footsteps echo off of the wooden floor as she made her way to the bedroom, half of her hair curled and set. "What?"

"This isn't my suitcase."

"Of course it is," she scoffed. "Colton and I got you that big traveling set for graduation, and that," she pointed at the suitcase, "is it."

"No, it's not," You opened the suitcase and reached in, grabbing the first thing you felt and holding it up to show her. "See? Not mine!"

"Y/N," her eyes widened before she started to laugh. "You might want to put those down."

"It's just the spike ball bag, it's not big–" you turned to see what you were holding and sure enough, it was not the spike ball bag you thought you had picked up. It was a pair of Ant-Man boxers, and it was unknown whether or not they were clean or not. "Ah, ew!" You tossed them back into the suitcase, wiping your hand on your towel. "Ew, ew, ew, I just touched a stranger's dirty underwear."

"You don't know if they were dirty."

"You don't know if they were clean!" You argued back, looking around the handle for an identification tag. "This definitely isn't mine. My travel tag isn't on the handle."

"Who uses a travel tag?" She laughed, shaking her head.

"Me," you turned towards the suitcase, slamming it shut and zipping it. "I use a travel tag, so if my luggage gets lost or switched, they can contact me. It's common travel knowledge."

She sighed, walking over towards the suitcase and unzipping the two pockets on top, looking in and shaking her head. "Nothing hidden in those pockets. Did you think to go through the rest of the suitcase? Maybe they have a tag in there."

"And risk touching another pair of possibly dirty boxers and God knows what else? No thanks," you zipped up the suitcase and picked it up, placing it back onto the ground. "I'm doomed. That suitcase had all of the clothes that I took to Jersey, in it. It had my outfit and makeup for tonight."

"I have something you can borrow," she walked over to the closet, opening it to reveal it was empty besides two dresses hanging up. "And I've got make-up and whatever your little heart desires for your hair."

"Your wedding present was in there too," you sighed, walking over to the closet. "Which one?"

"This." She held out the rose-colored dress, handing the hanger to you. "You can get away with no bra and I can give you a pair of underwear from the new pack I bought this morning–"

"Why would you buy new underwear?" You asked, taking the dress.

"In case of emergencies," she closed the closet and turned back to you, nodding. "Which, this is. Unopened pack in that laundry basket I was carrying, feel free to take a pair and keep them. As for shoes...you're kind of on your own on that one."

You sighed, defeated as she walked out of the bedroom, leaving you to get dressed. You unwrapped the towel around your hair, letting it drop onto the floor as the towel wrapped around your body went with it. You took the dress off of the hanger and untied the straps, lifting the dress over your head and tugging it down. Your mind was going over every detail of just how you picked up the wrong suitcase. Fair, it was a dead-ringer for the suitcase you took with you to Jersey, but even you should have known to realize that there was no bright red luggage tag hanging on the side handle. And it was all you could do but hope that whoever picked up your suitcase thinking it was theirs, would at least call or text.

"Oh shit," you said, holding onto the straps that hung down on the side, trying to tie them in the back. "Charlotte! My phone!"

You ran out into the living room to see her now finishing up her make-up at the counter, turning to you with wide eyes. "Okay one, sit down and let me brush your hair," she stood up and grabbed your wrist, bringing you over to counter and sitting you down. "And two, your phone is right there."

"If they figured out our luggage was switched, they'd call! My luggage tag!" You reached across the counter, grabbing your phone and turning it over to see that the screen was still black. "Oh come on, my phone wasn't that dead!"

Charlotte tugged you back and started to brush your hair, not bothering to go slow. "I plugged it in the moment you went to take a shower, just give it a few seconds."

If looks could kill, your phone would be nowhere ready to turn on. You were glaring at the screen as if pure intimidation would turn it on. This could go one of two ways:

1) This person left your suitcase in the dark abyss that is lost luggage at the airport.

or

2) Like you, they didn't realize that they had grabbed the wrong luggage until they went to open it and they'll find your luggage tag and call you.

"Ah!" You yelled, jumping out of the chair as your phone lit up. You leaned over the counter, your heart racing as Charlotte tried to keep brushing your hair. "Come on, come on, come on..."

"Right there," Charlotte said, pointing at your screen as a text message notification popped up on the screen from an unknown number. "That has to be them!"

"Oh thank God," you sighed, thumb ready to swipe the message open. "Oh...yikes."

"Uh," Charlotte laughed as the two of you continued to watch your messages pour in, at least 5 coming in from the unknown number, along with three phone calls. "Yikes indeed, I guess they're panicking just as much as you are."

You swiped on the notifications, unlocking your phone, and going to the message.

unknown: hi y/n i think you grabbed the wrong suitcase...

unknown: yeah, uh, you most definitely grabbed the wrong suitcase.

unknown: is there any way we can switch in the next 30 minutes before i reach my house?

unknown: ok, so i'm sorry for the spam texts and calls...but this is kind of urgent.

unknown: like life or death.

"Life or death?" Charlotte asked, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "What the hell was in that suitcase?"

"Spike ball and dirty clothes," you replied, shrugging. Your eyes went wide before you turned back to her. "What if they're a drug smuggler and there are drugs in there?"

She opened her mouth to speak before looking down at your phone, nodding. "Now's your chance to find out. Look who's calling."

You looked back down at your phone to see the unknown number flash on your screen. You looked back at her, shaking your head. "You answer it."

"Your luggage, you answer it," she laughed, pulling back segments of your hair to tie back. "But put it on speaker, I'm curious what the drug dealer sounds like."

You shoved your elbow back, avoiding her as you nervously slid your thumb across the screen, answering the call and pressing the speaker button. "Hello?"

"Oh thank God," the unknown called sighed, clearing his throat. "Sorry for the spam calls, I've just been panicking."

"Yeah, I’m sorry...my phone died," you replied, looking at Charlotte as your voice dwindled off.

"The suitcase," she mouthed, nodding her head back towards the room.

"Oh, the suitcase!" You said, almost a little too excited. You cleared your throat, calming yourself down. "I most definitely have your suitcase...maybe."

"Well I have yours," you could hear rustling in the background. "Y/N L/N, right?"

"Yep, that's me," you looked at Charlotte again, shaking your head. "Sorry to kind of do this...but how do I know I have your suitcase? I mean, what if I grabbed someone else's and you grabbed mine and there's three of us in this and–"

Charlotte smacked your back lightly with the back of the brushed, shaking her head as the voice on the other side of the phone laughed. "Um, shit," he coughed, smacking his lips. "Uh well, there should be a spike ball set in there. If not, then I left it at Johnny's. Otherwise, it's just clothes."

"Congratulations," you laughed, leaning back into the chair. "I've got your suitcase."

"Oh thank God, I was really worried there for a second," they replied. "Is there any chance we can exchange them soon?"

"Okay, so about that," you sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. "I kind of have a wedding rehearsal and dinner to go to in 20 minutes...and I don't think that will be over with till about...two hours from now. Is that okay?"

There was silence on the other side and you couldn't help but feel horrible at the fact that you were keeping this stranger away from his luggage and that he had to keep yours until then. "My family and I are going to dinner in two hours, reservation and all."

"Where at?" You spoke before your brain could even catch up with what your mouth was doing. "I'm sorry that was creepy."

He laughed and you felt a little flutter feeling in your stomach. "No, it's fine. I think we're going to Maggiano's in–"

"In the Westfield town center?" Your eyes widened as Charlotte placed the brush down on the counter behind you, looking at you with a smile. "We're going to Pieology in the Westfield town center!"

"Pieology for a wedding rehearsal dinner? Sounds like my kind of party," he laughed. "So, do you just want to exchange then? When I get there and you're leaving?"

"Sounds perfect!"

"Great! So I'll just, text you when I get there and I promise I won't forget the suitcase."

"Okay, I'll see you then."

"All right, bye, Y/N!"

"Bye!" You hung up the call and Charlotte leaned against the counter a smile on her face. "What?"

"He sounded cute." She stuck placed the extra bobby pins she didn't need, onto the counter. "Maybe he can be your date for my wedding."

"Not this again," you groaned, getting out of the chair. "For the last time, I don't need a date. Besides, this guy is a total stranger– I don't even know his name!"

"You can learn it later," she laughed, wiggling her eyebrows. "Either way, do your makeup quickly because we need to leave in ten."

She walked off towards the bedroom the two of you had claimed and you sighed, sitting back down into your seat, grabbing her mascara, blush, and golden liquid shimmer eyeshadow. It was the best you could do for now, until you got all of your stuff back from this stranger. As you applied the eyeshadow, you couldn't get Charlotte's comment out of your head. She was right, he did sound cute. But who's to say that he's not a total creep? Or that he's even your age? He could be in his 40's or even barely cruising 18. And then stood the real issue, you didn't even know his name.

Your phone screen lit up once again and you looked away from the mirror, seeing that you had another text from the unknown number. You furrowed your eyebrows and unlocked your phone, opening his text.

unknown: my name is matt, by the way 😊

[ranaiki]

Split Apart | Chapter 1 - Meeting

wc: 1.4k

warnings: swearing (reader is called a bitch), fighting/assault. Reader is not good at fighting sorry.

a/n: this took me a little while to write because I was very unsure of how to introduce the characters. Once again, this is not beta-read since I’m a fairly new writer and have no writer friends, so I apologize if it isn't up to standard. If there are any spelling errors or grammatical errors, I’ll probably notice later on and fix it? Anyways, without further ado, I hope you enjoy the first chapter!

s.masterlist | prev | next

Silence blanketed the Hyogo prefecture.

The air was thick with smoke, a grey haze hanging heavy over the cracked and collapsed buildings that lined the streets. The smog scratched at your throat and burned your eyes, the scarf that covered your mouth and nose providing little protection.

How long has it been now? A day? I’m so hungry...

As if on cue, your stomach growled loudly, sending sharp pains up through your ribcage. You gave a soft groan, breath puffing into the damp cloth wrapped around your face.

I gotta find something to eat, somewhere to rest.

Your whole body ached, feet sore from the non-stop walking and climbing you had done since last afternoon.

Dirt, blood, and oil were caked onto your clothes and skin, though at this point, you hardly minded. All you could focus on were your exhaustion, hunger pains, and the constant dull throbbing in your left arm where a deep gash had been made.

Most of the buildings around you were in tatters. Few had completely collapsed, but many had the roof caved in, or had been burnt in the fires that had followed the earthquake to the point where nothing inside would be salvageable.

Your hometown was almost unrecognizable.

Maneuvering through the streets was a difficult task, with rubble blocking the path every several meters, forcing you to climb over it.

More than once you had lost your footing and smacked against the broken pieces of tile and concrete, scratching up your legs and arms, and leaving your school uniform in tatters. It only added to the litany of things that were wrong at the moment.

As you continued on, you lifted your head, and the sight you were met with felt much like a miracle.

The convenience store that resided near your school was almost completely undamaged - scorch marks licked near the base of the cement structure, one of the walls was broken and crumbling, and the windows had all shattered - but it was still standing.

The idea of finding food put an extra spring in your step as you walked, helping you navigate the ruins around you and reach the front doors in record time.

Your feet crunched over the layers of broken glass as you entered the little shop, the bell that hung above the door giving a broken ring. You were amazed it was still intact.

Excitement burst through you as you spotted the shelves of food, all there for the taking. While it looked like it had already been sifted though, you didn’t linger on the thought for long. You lurched forward, snatching cans of meat and other foods, bags of chips, some of the bentos and pre-made meals resting in non-functional freezers, several bottles of water, and medical supplies.

It was like a shopping spree.

Everything that you deemed could be useful went into your once empty school backpack, filling the unused pockets to the brim. You went as far as to grab mini sewing kits and firestarters, lighters and utensils.

You filled your bag till it could be filled no more, before letting yourself collapse to the floor, with your backpack coming to a rest at your side.

The exhaustion that had been hanging onto you all day finally tore in, and you let out a breath of relief as your legs and feet got their much needed break.

Gingerly, you grabbed medical supplies you hadn't managed to fit into your bag, and cleaned and dressed all of your scratches, taking special care with the large wound on your arm and wrapping it up rather sloppily. It would do for now.

You let one of the bottles of fresh water run down your throat, quenching your unbearable thirst and soothing the painful scratchiness that had been caused by the smoke. You tore into packages of melonpan and onigiri of questionable freshness, but with the pangs of hunger that rushed through you, you didn't have the mind to complain.

You spent several long minutes refreshing yourself, filling your stomach with food and water, and making sure all of your wounds were patched up to the best of your ability.

As you were finishing, the broken sound of the bell in the doorway rang through the store. You paused in your ministrations, turning towards the front, and listening to the sound of heavy footsteps as they slowly approached.

A man stepped out into the end of the aisle you rested in, bulky and large, with soot covering him from head to toe and a ravenous look glimmering in his eyes.

You gave him a timid smile, wary of the way he held himself and looked at you.

He was still, not making a sound nor moving, and you gently pushed yourself to your feet, turning to face him with your bag still sitting on the floor next to you.

“I was just leaving.” You began, eyeing the stranger, still cautious and unsure of how to proceed. “Feel free to help-”

“You bitch!”

The man’s angry cry rang out. You had no time to react before he was in front of you, his body slamming you to the ground with brutal force.

You hit the cold tile of the convenience store floor, pain shooting up your spine. You coughed, eyes watering slightly as sharp aches blossomed through you. The shock that washed over you was only momentary, before the adrenaline kicked in, and you began struggling against him.

“Get off of me!” The man’s fingernails dug into your skin, scratching across the surface and reopening the wounds that littered your arms and body. You kicked your legs upwards, using your hands and feet to try and push him away. Sticky blood trickled down your arms as the gashes you had so meticulously wrapped and cleaned were torn open once more.

Anger rolled off of the stranger in waves, permeating the air around you. Fear crept up your throat like a sickening bile, making it hard to breathe.

You managed to land a knee into his gut, the hit solid and hard. He spluttered, breath knocked from his lungs, and scrambled off of you to regain his bearings.

You used the opportunity to get back to your feet, snatching your bag and sprinting past him.

His hand darted out, encircling your ankle, and dragging you back to the ground with another painful thud, the impact sending dull aches up your already battered and bruised frame.

Your lack of knowledge in self defense was suddenly painfully apparent.

Kick after kick and punch after punch were dealt to you as you tried to dodge and fight back, each of your own blows easily blocked. New bruises blossomed across unmarred expanses of flesh, soreness setting into your bones from each hit.

He was screaming at you in fury, his words slurred nonsense as his anger took over.

“This was supposed to feed my family for the next two months!” He screeched, split flying from his mouth in a disgusting spray.

The two minutes the man had been attacking you had felt like an eternity, time dragging on as pain seared through you.

A flash of silver just behind the stranger’s head caught your eye. There was the sound of two objects colliding - a solid thunk - before the man’s barrage of words came to a stop.

He froze above you, still for a second before his eyes closed, and he fell forward. His body landed in a limp pile just at your side, a tangle of limbs pinning you to the floor.

You cried out, pushing his arms off of you and scrambling away, breath heaving in your chest and eyes blown wide. The man was passed out cold on the convenience store’s floor.

Whoever had knocked him out was standing a few feet away, silently watching.

“Thank.. thank you.” You mumbled softly, breaking the stillness that had followed. Your knees were tucked up against your chest, gaze fixated on your attacker. You hardly even noticed the person standing a few feet away, hardly acknowledged him besides your meek expression of gratitude.

“Y/n?”

You blinked. Who knew your name? The way the person spoke, their voice, was oddly familiar, like a word sitting at the tip of your tongue.

Your head lifted, turning slowly towards your savior.

You were met with a young face and blond hair. Recognition melted over you, melded with confusion and relief.

“Atsumu?”

Taglist:

@bebetiny​ @itsmeaudrieee​

Taglist is open! Send an ask or message me to be added <3

[gumnut-logic]

Callisto (Full Prologue)

Prologue Part One - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5 Part Two - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3

When I first started this story, I was of two minds whether to put all of the prologue at the front or scatter it throughout the fic. I started with 700-odd words of it and drove into the body.

It fast became obvious that I really needed to build a lot more into the prologue as the OCs were empty shells and I needed to explain the story behind them and why Jeff is so determined.

So at the end of Part Two, I stopped and went back. This is the result. Nearly 5000 words of Jeff Tracy landing on Mars. It can stand as its own story, but it definitely leads into the planned events for the novel, Callisto. Either way I hope you enjoy it. Be aware that the first 500 words or so may be familiar as they were part of the original version. Don’t worry, the rest is new.

Of course, many, many thanks to @tsarinatorment​ @scribbles97​ and @janetm74​ for all the amazing support and help with this fic. Plus @onereyofstarlight​ my go to science officer on this voyage. You guys are absolutely amazing and I couldn’t have done this without you ::massive group hug::

Now this is done, I can finally go back to writing the novel chronologically. I have to say that this is going to be one hell of a ride.

No warnings needed.

-o-o-o-

2033

 “Another boy?”

Jeff grinned. “Yeah. Another one.” He couldn’t help but stare at the photo that had landed on his screen as a good luck token from Earth.

He did of course, know about Lucille going into labour the night before and it was for that reason he hadn’t had the sleep he probably should have pre-history making Mars landing. But honestly, to get this signal from that little blue planet a good eight months away…his heart swelled…his beautiful baby boy had a shock of red hair that screamed their Irish ancestry down through the hundreds of years since their family had left the old world.

Lucille sat holding him, looking tired but ever so proud. Her dark hair was tied back and the sparkle in her eyes brought a lump into his throat. Her mother, pink hair and all, sat beside his wife holding his two eldest boys on her lap. Scott had his hand on Virgil’s arm as the now second youngest reached over towards his baby brother, a frown of concentration on his face.

“He’s beautiful.”

Jeff startled a little. Berry was breaking regs and leaning over the back of Jeff’s pilot couch, her straps unfastened. The cockpit was pretty snug in the lander, most of the room taken up with safety equipment and interfaces, leaving little for the padded personnel support.

He shot an eyebrow in her direction and she smiled a dare back at him. The astrogeologist wasn’t one for breaking the rules, she just liked to taunt him a little.

Ju, in contrast, was checking her harness was secure a second time. “Creating your own crew, Tracy?” Her auburn eyes smirked at him. “Aiming to replace us?”

He grinned. “Could be.” Dare he mention that his four-year-old eldest could already name all the controls in this cockpit? His grin widened. “But we can’t replace the first person to set foot on Mars, now can we?”

Berry snorted, a little abashed. But it was, after all, her part to play once they made touchdown. The words had been rehearsed, the order of exit decided. For very specific reasons, the first human on Mars was going to be Kate Berrenger.

Berry had worked her ass off to make this mission a reality. Her specialisation onboard was astrogeologist, but honestly it was far more. The woman was talent on legs. It was she who had designed much of the equipment they were deploying on the surface, she who had hunted and gathered the funding, she who had put in the sweat and tears to make this work. And Ju wasn’t far behind. The two of them were quite a powerhouse pair. Jeff considered himself and Lee lucky to have been chosen for this mission. Of course, he’d known Berry for a very long time, worked with her for most of it, but it wasn’t a given that the team that had helped populate the moon would also be the first on Mars.

“Given how many life support pods we’re dragging down there, I bet your boys could drop by in about thirty years or less.”

“You gonna put your money where your mouth is, Berry?” The thought was tantalising. Not to put pressure on any future careers – Lucy would kill him – but he would hope that at least one out of three might follow in his footsteps.

Maybe?

He turned around and opened his mouth, only to be interrupted. “Major Tracy, tell your team to secure. Two minutes to separation.” Sinclair was his usual grumpy, nervous self.

“Roger that, Orbiter Control.”

He glared at Berry and the redhead bit her lip with a smile, green eyes dancing, before sitting back and strapping herself in preparation for the sequence.

She didn’t stop smiling though.

“So watcha gonna name him?” Lee prodded him with his eyebrows from beside Jeff.

A last glance at the photo before he returned to separation prep, fingers tight in his gloves. “Are you going to remember this one?” An eye in the engineer’s direction.

“Sure.”

Running his fingers over the controls, Jeff ran through pre-flight. “Name my eldest.”

Lee grunted, his eyes darting away. “Not important right now.” A flick of a switch. “I’m green across the board.”

“A-ok.” Jeff ran through the last sequence of checks…and ran them again…for luck. “Orbiter Control, we are green for separation.”

“Roger that, Cornerstone. Separation in sixty seconds on my mark.” A breath. “Mark.” Another pause. “Good luck.”

And the countdown began.

Jeff ran his eyes over everything again. The great ship that had journeyed so far from home was preparing to split in half. The lander at the top of the vessel was to pull away from the orbiter and its massive propulsion engines to begin the historic descent to the Martian surface. Eight months in space, so much preparation time and so many sacrifices before that, had all led to this moment.

History in the making.

His eyes combed the readouts watching like a hawk. The computer had control, but computers could only do so much.

Still green across the board.

Quiet, his fingers touched the screen where the photo had been. “John Glenn Tracy.” A breath. “His name is John.”

Displays shifted as the countdown hit zero and machinery grunted. The Cornerstone drifted apart from its propulsion module and floated free far above the red of the Martian surface.

Jeff eyed his instrumentation and sent a prayer to his family back home.

Today was an important day.

-o-o-o-

Lee watched Jeff side-on as he clicked his helmet into place. Taylor was a realist and he knew he wouldn’t be here without the crazy pilot.

It was Jeff’s drive that had gotten them this far. It was like riding a rollercoaster of determination and outright luck. From the Airforce, through space training and their sojourns on Alfie, Lee had tied himself to the man’s coat tails and hadn’t looked back.

God, it had been fun.

Jeff Tracy was a tsunami that crashed through everything and took everyone with him.

And Lee went willingly.

When they had been chosen for this mission it was a dream come true.

The countdown dropped to zero and machinery clunked as the lander separated smoothly from the orbiter. She drifted momentarily before the computer engaged thrusters to push her gently out of orbital alignment.

“We are five by five for atmospheric entry.” The words he uttered were almost rote after so many practise simulations back on Earth.

Atmospheric entry on Mars was considerably different to entry on Earth. Terran atmosphere was more like soup in comparison to the barely-there Martian atmosphere. Still made for a warm entry though, friction was friction after all.

“Trajectory achieved.” Jeff’s voice was confident and firm. As always.

Lee eyed the computer readouts, mentally ticking off procedure as the lander dipped into the outer reaches of the atmosphere and shifted to its entry interface.

Forces wrapped themselves around Lee and his body responded. After so many months of weightlessness, this was going to be a challenge.

“Ready for deceleration burn.”

The landing module sported early entrance stage retro thrusters designed to slow the vehicle to reduce the friction on the spacecraft’s skin. A new innovation that had proven essential in many return trips to the moon in preparation for the creation of a habitable dome on the satellite.

And here they were attempting to do something similar on Mars.

Cornerstone shook as her thrusters engaged exactly on time.

The craft roared.

Lee revelled in it.

“Three minutes to subsonic.”

“I really hate this bit.” It was barely heard above the commotion.

Lee snorted to himself. Ju was an astronaut in every sense, but she had a thing regarding atmospheric entry and the microscopic bits they could be exploded into if something went wrong.

“We are on track, Ju. Not a thing to worry about.” His voice reassurance itself, Jeff could sell the moon cheese if he so felt like it.

“Orbiter to Cornerstone. Tracy, we have a problem.”

Lee blinked. Sinclair’s voice was ominous.

“Orbiter, detail?”

“Cornerstone, weather has kicked up on the landing site. We have a developing dust storm. Looks to be a big one.”

“Orbiter, we are fixed for descent. Please advise severity.” Jeff’s tone was frustrated and Lee couldn’t help but echo it.

Data landed in Lee’s console and while Jeff continued to monitor their descent, Lee examined the situation. “We have a category five dust storm developing over the landing site. Orbiter is right, she looks like she could actually do some damage.”

Mars dust storms were generally all gust and no guts. The air density and pressure forced storms that were dramatic to look at, but generally little more than a windy day on planet Earth. This one, however... “It’s an anomaly.”

Jeff’s eyes darted from his console to Lee’s, grey eyes assessing the data. “Ju, your opinion?” They had to make the decision fast. Altering their trajectory now was possible, but fuel was precious. Any extra used now narrowed their safety margin for later.

The meteorologist’s fingers darted over her board. “Unusual strength, I agree.” Lee glanced in her direction as she frowned. “But Cornerstone should be able to handle it.”

“‘Should’ is not a good enough assumption, Zhang.” Jeff was frowning. The lander’s retros cut out as they reached a safe enough velocity to manoeuvre and Jeff’s hands curled around the yoke.

Lee’s finger darted over his board and brought up the outside cameras.

The red planet stretched out before them, her slightly blue tinted atmosphere contrasting against the rust of her surface.

That surface was churning.

Ju was outraged. “How the hell did that develop in the time it took us to separate from Orbiter? She was as calm as a sleeping baby!”

“I don’t care about then, I need now. Zhang, recommendation!”

The woman grunted. “I say go. If you think you can handle it. It is well within Cornerstone’s specs. Your decision, Major.”

Jeff’s lips thinned, his eyes darting across the readouts. A moment and he hit the comms switch. “Orbiter, we are go for landing. We’ve come this far, might as well go all the way.”

“Tracy, are you sure?”

“Humanity never got anywhere taking it easy.” He glanced at Lee. “Hold onto something.”

Cornerstone began her turn, orientating her nose to the sky so her retros could lower her safely to the Martian surface.

Or in Jeff Tracy terms, ‘spinning so she could park her ass’.

As if reading Lee’s mind, the glint in Jeff’s eyes was something to both be wary of and to celebrate.

Out of the four of them, Jeff was the most reckless, the most daring. But as he was the pilot, it sometimes called for it. Jeff had already saved them from becoming just another crater on Earth’s moon by pulling the most unconventional manoeuvre ever seen on the satellite when a landing thruster misfired on approach. The craft had shot off on a completely unpredicted vector that would have ploughed them into moon dust...if Jeff hadn’t reacted as fast as he did. He flipped the craft with its remaining three thrusters and, shedding the majority of their velocity in an energy dump that had Lee’s stomach on the outside, planted their craft like a sack of potatoes.

They had landed roughly, but they had landed alive and Lee was still amazed his friend had been able to do that.

So, if they were going down in a cloud of red dust, Lee was quite happy to have Jeff at the controls.

Not to say that Lee himself wasn’t handy with a spacecraft. He had his own experience to be proud of. He flew, but his realm was more the mechanical. He was here as back up and maintenance.

For those times the Tracy fix wasn’t quite enough.

A sigh. He eyed the billowing clouds below as they rapidly approached. They were history in the making. Whatever happened here today would be taught in schools for decades to come.

He had faith in Jeff. They would land, Berry would take those first important steps on a new planet, say the rehearsed words, and join Neil Armstrong in the halls of fame.

But first they had to get there.

-o-o-o-

Jeff swallowed as the cloud of dust loomed beneath the lander. Numbers scrolled across his console. The computer should be able to handle most of it. Its programming was solid. Lucy had made sure of it.

The thought of his beautiful wife...little Johnny.

Dust swelled and wrapped around their craft and visibility became...bad.

Cornerstone shuddered.

Mars dust was a bastard of a thing. Ever so fine and carrying a tiny electric charge that on occasion interfered with instruments.

This was one of those occasions.

“We have blackout on three primary sensors.” Damn. Two others flickered, the screen fritzing a moment.

His fingers darted over controls in an attempt to compensate for the data loss.

Lee was muttering beside him and stabbing at his board. “Rerouting to back-ups.”

Their screens flickered and cleared somewhat.

Numbers plummeted.

Beyond the blinding dust the digital readout that marked the surface of the planet approached.

Far too fast.

Retros crucial to start the landing sequence did not fire.

Shit.

It took seconds for him to compensate and move to manual, but that was enough for the craft to fall many more metres so, when he did manually trigger the burn, they were lower than they should be.

Cornerstone roared as he pushed more energy into braking.

“Lee, we need primary thrust or we are so much pancake!” Her four landing thrusters were not slowing them enough. The math in his head was churning out a fatal result and their history-making attempt was fast turning into a shitfest. “I need that power now.”

“You have it.” Short and sharp as Lee’s hands darted over his console.

On Jeff’s board the main thruster icon lit up.

It wasn’t meant to be used this way. The main thruster was for launching. It was far more powerful than they needed to land. But if he didn’t slow Cornerstone, she was going to take on a big red rock and lose.

The computer ran calculations and spat numbers out at him.

“Firing main thruster.” The icon flashed, Cornerstone roared and g-forces wrapped around all of them and squeezed.

No one said anything for the second of burn that slowed their descent ever so rapidly. Everything shook, the ship’s superstructure groaning.

Jeff’s eyes tracked their velocity, counting down as the surface of the planet rushed towards them. Visually they couldn’t see it. Virtually it looked ready to slap them in the face.

But the main thruster compensated, slowing the craft just enough for the landing rockets to do their job.

Jeff killed the big one and concentrated on the landers to take the last of their speed.

Cornerstone slowed. Five hundred metres. Four hundred metres. Three hundred metres. Two hundred metres. One hundred metres. Landing struts deployed. Fifty. Thirty. Twe-

The whole ship slammed to a stop, its structure groaning and tilting for a second before righting itself. Alarms began shrieking, red lights flashing all over his board.

What the hell?!

The readout had them stalled nineteen metres ‘above’ the virtual surface. Virtual was obviously not lining up with actual.

Another metallic groan and the ship tilted slightly again. This time it stayed tilted. No doubt a landing strut had taken the brunt and folded.

One red light screamed at him more than the others.

Beside him, Lee confirmed his fears. “We have a fuel leak.”

Shit!

He was unstrapping himself even as the craft groaned again. Something sparked not far away. Lee was a split second behind, listing the reason for the malfunction. The exterior hull, and the mangled landing strut responsible.

A rupture in the external hull. Hell.

Jeff undocked a diagnostic pad and slapped it on his belt.

Martian gravity made itself known. So many months without its native pull, Jeff’s body protested the sudden movement, but they didn’t have time. Precious fuel was escaping.

He hit the ladder leading out of the cockpit at a run, feet locking around the struts and his hands pushing him down. The whole sensation of gravity, but only a third of Earth’s was baffling. His body caught between expectations and stumbling along the way. Ultimately, he partly fell his way down through the access ports, hands grabbing at the railings barely preventing him from colliding with each deck.

Cornerstone’s fuel tanks were attached to her four landers, with a fifth fueling her main launcher.

It was number three that was the problem.

His boots hit decking and he scrambled for the airlock. Beside him Lee had a toolkit and they both barrelled through the door sealing it behind them.

The pumps cycled and the pressure dropped, their suits shifting with the change, and then the elevator was lowering them to the ground.

As the doors opened, they were faced with a wall of swirling dust.

Jeff did his best to ignore it but it fast became a problem. The maintenance tab in his hand was directing him to climb ladders up the side of the vehicle, but he could barely see the tablet, much less the ladders themselves through the red dust.

“Stick close, Lee. I’d hate to lose you in this.”

“Right behind you, Jeff. Wouldna want to lose you either.”

It was simple, but reassuring nonetheless. Fumbling, he found the landing strut. It was skewed in a way that even in the thick swirling haze, he could see was far from the right angle for correct support.

Hooking a foot into the lowest rung, he snagged his friend and urged him up the ladder ahead. If anyone was going to save their asses in this situation, it was Lee.

If Jeff could land it, chances were Lee could fix it. The man could jimmy two sticks and a rubberband into whatever was needed. Hell, he’d done almost exactly that on the moon at least twice.

This was just another challenge. Jeff had landed them, no matter how roughly. Now Lee would be able to fix it.

Jeff clung to that maxim.

But the question wasn’t about skill, it was more about whether or not they were going to damn well be able to see what they needed to see in order to do what needed doing.

Red obscured everything. The speed it was all flying past spoke to his earth senses of gale force winds, but the pressure on his suit was little more than a windy day.

Not enough to affect the spacecraft.

Mars was obviously educating them early that this was not Earth. Not in any way shape or form.

Their clamber up the strut was partly a blind one, but they made it to the damaged side of the craft. Through a mixture of touch and virtual readout, it became clear that the outer hull had buckled, forcing the inner hull into the fuel tank. Most of it had held, but there was a small microfracture and the pressure differences were bubbling solid state fuel into gas at a rate that, if it didn’t deplete the tank, would likely cause an explosion that would solve all their problems with a history-making finality.

Jeff climbed up beside Lee as he fumbled at his tool kit. The tank was dislodged off its mounts, something they would need to remedy later, but it was still inset from the hull.

Jeff put his body in position to block the main flow of the dust and wind, jamming himself up against the still warm hull of his ship.

A little less dust swirled over the bubbling crack and Lee didn’t hesitate. Before Jeff could blink, gell bondtape landed smoothly over the area, the engineer sealing it with an electronic nudge from a set-wand. The electricity lined molecules up like soldiers and locked them in place bonding them to whatever the tape was adhered to. They had used the same stuff on Alfie two years ago when one of their habitats had tried to make one with the lack of lunar atmosphere.

An extremely simple solution for a very dangerous problem.

His heart, still adrenalin-fueled, refused to believe the danger was over.

As if reading Jeff’s thoughts, Lee smirked at him through the haze. “Never leave home without it.” A sigh as he ran a gloved hand over the seal. “This should hold for the short term. Once we are sure the strut is stabilised, I’ll give it a good going over. Hopefully, we can lose this storm in the process.”

Jeff would have liked to claim it couldn’t blow forever, but both of them knew Mars storms could be unpredictable and last for months if they so chose to.

Lee ran a scanner over the strut’s connection to the launcher. How the hell the engineer could see the readouts, Jeff didn’t know.

For all future excursions to the Red Planet, Jeff was going to recommend helmet based heads-up displays.

“She’s safe for now. A little bent, but she isn’t going to fall over. Hopefully, once we get out some of the heavy lifting equipment we can bend her back into shape if we need to.” Lee stood up. “Hull patching is going to be an ass, though.”

Jeff’s lips thinned and he dropped a hand onto his friend’s shoulder. “One thing at a time. We’ve got this, Lee.”

Lee grunted. “How the hell do you keep spinning the optimism, Jeff?”

A snort. “What? You’d prefer doom and gloom?” He shuffled back towards the ladder. “That’s it, Lee, we’re never leaving this god forsaken rock. Welcome to your new home.” He raised up his hands and as if the gods declared him some kind of Moses for that very moment, the dust clouds parted as if they were a red sea of sand. Sol, so much smaller this far away, poked its weak light through the hazy atmosphere and lit up the bare red rocks of their temporary home. While on one side, the billowing wall of dust storm swirled on its way, on the other red mountains rose up to a weak blue-red sky.

Lee shifted down beside him. “You know, I figured you had an agreement with the gods of physics, but isn’t this a little ridiculous?”

Jeff was too captivated with the view to respond.

Cornerstone was on the plateau they had been simulating for months on end. She stood tall and proud, if a little crooked and pinker than her promo shots.

“We made it.” The words fell from his lips.

Lee clung to the ladder beside him. “Yeah, that we did.”

Sunlight flickered weakly in the atmosphere and a gust of wind dragged more dust across the view.

Jeff shifted. “We better get inside before that mess starts up again. Take advantage of being able to see where we are going.”

Lee didn’t respond immediately, his eyes combing the jagged horizon. “Thanks, Jeff.”

A frown. “For what?”

“Getting us here.”

“It was a group effort, Lee, you know that. Couldn’t have done it without the team. Couldn’t have done it without you. Hell, you just patched a hole that could have blown us up.”

Lee grunted.

“Are you guys going to hang outside all day, or do we have to guess the sitrep?” Berry’s tone was tight.

“Roger, Berrenger. Situation secure. On our way back in.”

It wasn’t until they reached the elevator that he realised exactly what had happened.

And who he was.

By the doors, protected by the shadow of the lowered module was a single footprint that hadn’t been blown away by the wind.

“Aw, hell.”

Lee, as always, stepped up beside him. “Yeah. I guess that makes you the first man to walk on Mars.”

-o-o-o-

Ju was furious. “It was Kate’s right to be the first!”

The vacs in the airlock had sucked everything off their suits to the point Lee was surprised his hair wasn’t standing on end despite the helmet.

As it was, his hackles were somewhere near orbit as they stood in the conference room that doubled as a mess. “And what exactly do you think we were supposed to do? The ship was going to explode.” It was simple to Lee. Sure, he was all for equality, it was a given, but they would’ve been all equally dead if he and Jeff hadn’t done what they did.

“You didn’t give us a chance!”

“I’m the engineer here, Zhang. There wasn’t time! The decision was made and we are alive because of it.”

“Then why weren’t you first, Taylor? Why the hell was Tracy even out there? He’s not the engineer!”

Beside Lee, Jeff straightened. “Standard procedure, Zhang. We work in pairs. If you think I was going to let Lee go out in that on his own, you’ve been serving while wearing a blindfold.”

The short, dark-haired woman stepped up to the Major, her eyes fiery. “It was Kate’s place in history and you stole it!”

Lee flared. “We did what was necessary! This was not a publicity grab, for Christ’s sake! It didn’t even occur to us until we were returning. It was about saving our lives, Zhang. How can you possibly think it was anything else?”

“Because it always is.” She waved a hand at Jeff. “Always the hotshot. Always the first. Always the hero. Do you ever think, Tracy? Do you ever think about those you barrel past?”

Jeff glared down at the meteorologist. “I will not apologise for my achievements, Zhang. This was an honest to god accident.”

“Due to decisions made by you.”

“What the hell, Zhang?!” Lee pushed forward. That was taking it too far.

“We should never have tried to land in that dust storm. We should have waited it out.”

“You said we could take it!”

“But it wasn’t my decision, was it?” Her tone was a positive hiss at Jeff.

“Screw you, Zhang-“

“Taylor!”

“Jeff-“

The man was still the damn tall walking wall when he wanted to be. “Lee, stop.” He glared at Ju. “I will not apologise for my command decisions either, Zhang. What was done, is done.” His stance softened as he turned to Berry.

She had been ominously quiet the entire time.

Jeff sighed. “I’m sorry, Kate.”

The red-haired astrogeologist straightened away from the bulkhead, her arms still folded across her chest. Lee had always liked Berry. She had her head on much straighter than Ju ever did.

Ju was like a terrier with a bone.

The bone variety today was definitely Jeff-flavoured.

But there was only kindness in Berry’s eyes as she looked up at the Major. “This sucks, Jeff, it really does.” She looked down a moment. “But it is what it is and I guess it was what it was meant to be.” A shrug. “I suppose I’ll have to settle for third on Mars. Still pretty momentous, I think.”

“Kate, it doesn’t have to be that way.” Jeff took a step towards her. “It’s not official. It was a stupid repair. We can do the ceremonial step onto the planet anyway. No one has to know.”

Her head tilted to one side. “So, the ship miraculously healed itself?”

“Berry-“

She closed the gap between them, placing a hand on his arm. “Jeff, honestly, it’s not what is important here. You took the first step. We still have plenty of others that need to be taken. My ego can keep.”

Zhang flared again. “Kate, this was for women-“

“Ju, enough. It doesn’t matter! Humans have just landed on Mars, for god’s sake. I would have thought we would be a little less worried about the gender of the person taking the first step and more worried about the fact we did it without blowing up.”

“It was supposed to be you.” Ju wilted in defeat under Berry’s glare.

“Well, it was Jeff, and I think he is no less deserving than any of us.”

Jeff’s voice was quiet. “Are you sure, Kate?” The use of her first name was a rarity for the major, there was a friendship between those two almost as long as the one between Jeff and Lee. Hell, if Jeff hadn’t met Lee’s sister, Lucy, the engineer wondered what might have eventuated in that department.

Not that he had ever had to worry about that. Jeff was a complete sop for Lucy. His sis had the man wrapped around her little finger.

If that made Lee feel just that touch more protective of the crazy pilot, then so be it.

Kate straightened, her shoulders strong. “I’m sure.” Then her lips curled up a little. “Besides, my lines were so much more elegant than ‘Stick close, Lee. I’d hate to lose you in this.’”

Jeff snorted and shrugged. “If I’m going to make history gotta make sure my best friend is with me.”

Zhang made a disgusted sound and stormed out of the room.

Shoulders dropping, Jeff sighed. “Guess I need to work on my phrasing.”

But Lee was too wrapped in the moment, a little too proud and grateful to care. “She’ll live.”

The grunt from Jeff reminded Lee that they still had months to share living quarters with the fiery Ju.

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to her.” Berry squeezed Jeff’s arm before reaching out to Lee as well. “Thank you, both of you, for getting us down safely. We’re on Mars, guys. Let the party begin.”

The smile in her eyes was honest and ever so heartening.

-o-o-o-

Next

[aceofspadegrass]

Hey hey hey! Haven't been requesting for quiet a while.

Remember the chishiya kitty and Niragi kitty ya know pre-border kitties!

Yeah can I have a part 2 where *inhales* NIJIRO CAN'T FIND A HOME FOR THE BOTH OF THE KITTIES SO HE ADOPTED CHISHIYA WHILE DORI ADOPTED NIRAGI AND THEY BOTH TAKE THE BOTH OF THEM TO WORK IN THEIR STUDIO WHILE FILMING (yes fanta is there too, and the other doggies) AND WHEN IT WAS TIME FOR DORI TO SHOOT THE FLASHBACK SCENE WHERE NIRAGI GETS...ya know..I AM SAD OF THAT SCENE OKAY!? HE GOT BRUISES AND ALL-

and after that scene Dori comes looking for kitty Niragi and saw the kitten all shaking beneath the black chair that say's the word 'NIRAGI' in the back, ya know those chairs right? (Fanta is there right next to the kitten licking it's head in reassurance what good pupper! He is trained so well-)

The rest is up to you!

Pre-BorderKitties, Now with a Baseball

Characters: Sakurada Dori, Murakami Nijiro, Yanagi Shuntaro (Mentioned), Niragi Suguru (Technically), Chishiya Shuntaro (Technically and also only mentioned)

Genre: Fluff with a little angst. Just a tad. Poor kitty Niragi, he saw baseball season.

1.5k words

Well here you go buddy! It was fun to write, but poor kitty Niragi, he saw something he wasn't supposed to. I like to imagine Niragi later got to hang out at the 'Beach' in a separate room as they filmed the rest, without seeing the fate of his owner wearing the future human version of him. ✨

(Also I'm reusing the liner from the other one because it's nice.)

The next few days turned into weeks, much longer than the either were expecting.

Murakami came by every day to help Sakurada with the kittens faithfully, as he promised. Since then, the kittens have warmed up a little to them, and by the end of the month they ended up adopting a kitten each. Murakami thought it would be more funnier to take the cat after their character, so now Sakurada had a little dark grey kitten as well as his precious dog. Niragi was still pretty much the same as he was the first day Sakurada met him, skittish and wary of everything, but now a little more willing to cuddle next to Sakurada.

Today was filming day for Alice in Borderland, Sakurada driving over to the site where they were filming one of the scenes, Fanta happily chilling in the backseat with Niragi sitting next to the pupper, the both safely fastened to the car so they couldn’t get thrown around if something happened. Fanta was using a leash while Niragi was just huddled in a little cloth that was attached to a smaller strap, but it was effective enough.

Sakurada parks by the rest of the cars and gets out, opening the door and releasing his pets from the car, Fanta hopping down to walk besides Sakurada. Niragi was carried out instead, the three heading over to where the others where, Sakurada waving at the others there as he passed by and went to the dressing trailer they set up. Later on in the day they’d be shooting the other parts of the Beach episodes, and he didn’t need to be staying in his Pre-Borderland outfit for that long, so it was just a quick change here instead of coming already dressed. He spots Murakami not that far away, the man there despite not filming any scenes until much later in the day, Chishiya cradled in his arms and apparently sleeping.

“ Hi Sakurada!” Murakami waves to Sakurada from a distance, then comes closer and bows properly. “ Good luck during filming today!”

“ Thanks Murakami. What are you doing here?” Sakurada asked, Murakami smiling at him as he straightens up, Chishiya still fast asleep despite the brief squishing he just endured.

“ Well, I just came by to watch! That and I heard you were bringing your pets to work, so I wanted to see them too!” Murakami chirps, Sakurada chuckling. He gestures to Fanta, who was still by his feet, Murakami bending down and petting the pupper. Fanta gives a soft bark and wags his little tail, happy to be getting attention without having to do much. Murakami stands up again and waves to Niragi as well, who was curled up in Sakurada’s arm.

“ Well, I better get going now. Talk to you later!”

“ Okay, I will!”

Sakurada goes to gets dressed and heads out once he finished, placing kitty Niragi down on the chair with his name on it. The kitten mews up at him the moment Niragi left Sakurada’s warm hands. Sakurada smiles at Niragi and gently pets the kitten, which earns him the tiniest of purrs and a loafed bean when he lifts his hand up. “ You stay here and rest for a bit, okay Niragi? I need to go work for a little bit~”

Niragi only stays here and watches as Sakurada heads towards the bridge where the scene would be, not far from where everything else was. Sakurada could see Fanta happily playing with Yanagi’s dog Merry not that far away. Sakurada appreciated that Yanagi came by just to hang out with Fanta once he heard that Sakurada was taking his dog to the site so that when they were released until later on they could just hang out and do normal people things. Maybe they could walk the dogs together, that’d be fun.

The scene itself was thankfully taken within a few shots so Sakurada didn’t have to worry about any real bruising on his beautiful face. The hits weren’t as hard as it looked, they made sure to use softballs and not apply as much pressure as it was depicted to prevent any real damage, but the acting (and extra makeup they applied to make it more realistic) still had to make it seem they were the real deal. Sakurada congratulated everyone for the good job, the others even coming over to check to assure he was perfectly alright before they broke for a break and moved locations to film some more scenes at the ‘Beach’ indoors, the nighttime outdoor scenes taking much later in the day.

Sakurada heads back to the break area, but pauses when he notices something wrong, Murakami wandering around with worry on his face.

“ Murakami? Murakami, what’s wrong?” Sakurada jogged over to his friend, Murakami looking up at Sakurada.

“ I can’t find Niragi.” “ Huh? What do you mean?”

Murakami looks at the ground, eyes flicking around to try to spot the kitten. “ Well, I thought it’d be a good idea to let the kitten roam around a little, under my supervision on course! So I took him off the chair you left him on. But….”

Sakurada raised an eyebrow as he waited for Murakami to finish, although panic was already seeping into his bones. “ But…?”

“ Well, I think Niragi saw you guys acting out that scene, and he suddenly ran off. I don’t know where he went. Goodness, I hope he didn’t run far…”

Sakurada frowns, then nods. “ Let’s look for him. Go see if Yanagi spotted him too.”

Murakami nods in return, and they part, Sakurada looking around to see if he could find the skittish kitten, including underneath places a kitten could’ve been. He shouldn’t have ran far, but since this was a fairly open area…. Sakurada shivered at the thought of what could happen. He even called out the kitten’s name a few times and asked the others if they saw where Niragi had scampered off too, but no results.

Sakurada was about ready to start looking outside the area where they had all been in when he felt paws against his shoe. Sakurada looks down to Merry, who barks and runs off almost immediately, Sakurada following after the dog.

“ What is it Merry?” Sakurada asked, the pupper stopping in front of the black chair where he last had left the kitten. “ Wait, is he….?” Merry barks in response and wags her tail, the trots off after apparently having completing the mission the dog set out to do.

Sakurada lets out a small chuckle at the dog’s antics, then finally checks underneath the chair, finally getting his prize of finding his kitten. Niragi was curled up right underneath the shade of the chair, easily fading into the shadows with how dark and small he was. Sakurada reaches out for the kitten, and the moment his fingers grazed the kitten he felt the poor thing shaking, and a short mew erupted from Niragi, full of fear. Sakurada instantly started hushing the heightened kitten, staying still and reassuring Niragi that he was alright..

“ Oh, did I scare you? I’m sorry Niragi, I didn’t mean to. I’m alright, see? Nothing’s gonna hurt you either you little vanilla bean, oh I’m so sorry if that scared you….” Sakurada says in a soft tone, the kitten mewing again while he continued to shake, fur puffed up all over and resembling a dust bunny.

The sad mews seemed to have caught Fanta’s attention as well, the dog padding over and laying next to Niragi, licking the kitten as if he knew the best way to calm a crying bean.

The two laid there underneath the chair comforting the kitten for a while, and while others did come by to see if everything was okay, Sakurada always politely sent them on their way to reduce Niragi’s stress. Eventually he could scoop the kitten up, getting into a sitting position as the kitten trembled against his chest, a paw moving to press against his chest, which was still in the school uniform he was supposed to wear.

“ It’s alright now Niragi, I’m here. I’m here.�� Sakurada continued to soothe, cradling the kitten as he heads to the trailer. After all, he still needed to change out and get the makeup wiped off so he could head to the other location for more filming.

Afterwards, he gets up and heads to his car, grabbing the little cloth pouch with the strap. Thankfully, it also functioned as a sort of carrier, Sakurada tying it around himself and settling the kitten to rest within, right up to his heart so the kitten could listen to his perfectly alright heart. Within seconds the kitten began to quietly purr, curling up safely in the comfort of Sakurada. Sakurada nods in satisfaction, and he heads to where Yanagi was, the man offering the extra leash he brought so they could walk their dogs together, Sakurada quickly thanking him. He calls his dog over, Fanta trotting over and letting Sakurada clip the leash to him. Hopefully Fanta would walk for a fair distance, knowing how much more he preferred to just flop and become a fried dumpling instead, the two setting off for a nice brisk walk until they had to head down for the rest of filming.

Niragi, at the very least, was safe and comfortable, the best way Sakurada preferred him to be after that harrowing experience for the kitten.

[miceenscene]

Star-Crossed

din djarin/female oc | soulmate AU | pre-canon

wc: 5.3k / 22.3k (so far)

summary: The Way was not supposed to be a solitary one. People, house, clan. And when all else failed, your Match. “Fits like a Mandalorian Match” was the old saying. Though it wasn’t so long ago that it stopped making sense. But what's a lost Match to a man like Din Djarin?

warnings: is it pining if they're a couple now??, fluff, hurt/comfort, Din Is In A Cult, brief flashbacks

Previous Chapter | Masterpost | ao3

Chapter Seven: The Investigation

The physical heft and weight of beskar had long since faded to the background of Din's senses. But he felt the dense barrier for the first time in years putting it all back on the next morning after Nia had been the one to remove it.

The physical heft and weight of beskar had long since faded to the background of Din’s senses. The absence far more noteworthy in his mind than the presence.

But he felt the dense barrier for the first time in years putting it all back on the next morning after Nia had been the one to remove it.

The memory of fingers running through his hair still tingled under his helmet. She’d gently carded as he drifted off to sleep in her arms, the two of them squeezed into a bunk barely meant for one, and she’d resumed the moment she woke up the next morning.

Perhaps he could wait a little longer to cut it.

Her obvious fondness for his curls was more than worth the minor bother.

Her gentle smile was worth a great deal of bother in his mind, though it was completely absent from her face as they worked side by side back in the Vod’oya headquarters.

With precious other leads to follow, they’d decided that returning and thoroughly searching the records was the best place to start.

The records were thorough, organized and diligent. He’d expect nothing less from a Mandalorian school, despite its… eccentricities.

There was a sudden stop in the records about eight months back. No indication as to why.

Though Din had his guess.

However, the discovery of the stop offered some ease. Nia had been on The Razor Crest for just over seven months. At least she hadn’t spent a great deal of time chipped.

Now if they could just find the bastard who put it in her head in the first place, he’d hold her staff while she delivered righteous justice with her bare hands.

But there was a murder to solve first.

They’d been combing through the rest of the records since the morning, and it was now mid-afternoon.

Neither of them truly certain what to look for, or if their needle was even in this particular haystack.

“Found another gap,” Nia said, leaning back and stretching her neck. “Two days, twenty-seven months ago.”

The only thing out of place was the occasional gap in the records, which were otherwise exhaustingly thorough.

She stood to mark it down on the display board on the other side of the room. They’d found eight in total so far, none longer than four days at most or further back than three years ago.

“It might be computer error,” Din pointed out when she returned to her post at the other terminal.

“Probably,” she muttered, scrolling further down the logs. “Very little else survived wholly… intact… wait.”

“What is it?” He leaned over to look at her screen. There was another gap, three days, thirty-one months ago.

She tapped the screen. “There was a mission between these. I remember, we–we went to a warehouse on Florrum before Bardotta. We burnt the place to the ground and–” The corner of her mouth twitched in a small smile. “Ro singed her eyebrows off with a flash grenade. She looked hilarious for weeks afterwards. I wrote about it in my mission log. Phasia said it was unprofessional.”

“And there’s no record of that?”

She shook her head and turned around to look at their collected gaps on the display board. “These could all be missions, they were never too long, travel time on either side…” she mused, finicking with the end of her braid.

“Someone could have come through and scrubbed them,” Din offered, following her logic.

“But only Vod’oya can get in here.” Her gaze rested on the table still surrounded by seven chairs. “Did I delete them?”

“Or Phasia could have… or someone else holding one of you hostage for access if they were desperate enough...”

“It’s so… selective though. It couldn’t have been a rush job.”

The captive theory wasn’t looking like it was going to hold water.

“And why were they scrubbing missions to begin with?”

Unfortunately, he had no more answers than she did.

She groaned and pinched her brow. “We need someone who’s better at computers than us. Someone who can see if the data’s really gone, or just removed. But they have to be trustworthy...”

A persnickety face immediately came to mind. “I think I know someone who can help.”

Which is how they ended up heading to Tatooine with several terminals in tow.

“Nice to see you on your feet this time,” Peli greeted Nia, all jokes and ribbing until it came time to talk shop.

Given that Nia was generally better with people, Din stepped away to closely supervise the droids refuelling, anticipating subterfuge.

Peli said she’d give data recovery a try, but it would take time. “And it’ll cost ya. Extra!”

“We expected nothing less,” Nia replied, tossing a bag of credits Peli’s way. “Half now, half when you’re done?”

Peli weighed the bag in hand and made an impressed face. “I like you. Mando should keep you around.”

Nia grinned. “He’s stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

“Eh, he doesn’t look too bothered.” Peli stepped closer, as if to be secretive but didn’t lower her volume one decibel. “What’s he look like under that helmet?”

“Oh, he’s exceptionally beautiful. That’s why he covers his face. Otherwise, everyone would be after him for entirely different reasons.”

“I can hear you,” he said, looking their way now that the droids had finished. Peli laughed and Nia just winked, making his chest glow in reply.

Though a question hovered at the edge of his mind, but he didn’t voice it till they left and made the jump to hyperspace.

“Does it bother you?” he asked Nia, not looking away from the pulsing glow as he leaned against the back wall of the flight deck.

“Does what bother me?” she replied, finishing her final checks.

“That you’ll never know what I look like?”

She glanced back at him, still typing. “I know what you look like.”

“You know what I mean.”

She finished and then turned the captain’s chair around before standing. Silently for a moment, she regarded him so thoroughly that he could almost believe that she could see him straight through the beskar.

“I don’t need to see your face to know what you look like, Din. Ni kar’taylir… veman.”

The pause pulled his throat tight and made his pulse thunder beneath his cuirass.

Ni kar’taylir veman.

I know you truly.

That’s what he’d said that night to her in the rain.

Ni kar’taylir darasuum.

I will know you eternally.

Or I love you.

And he’d nearly meant that.

Perhaps she had too.

She closed the distance between them, hands brushing over the beskar barrier and resting on his shoulders. His found a perfect spot in the small of her back.

“Does it bother you?” she asked, looking at him intently again. “That I’ll never see your face?”

It shouldn’t, that same cruel voice hissed in the back of his mind.

But he found himself without a truly honest answer, just mixed emotions sloshing about his ankles.

“I… don’t know.”

She nodded and shifted to tiptoe to press a kiss to the cheek of his helmet, somehow adding to and soothing the conflict all at once.

He held her close till the disquiet slowly settled, but it never fully left after that.

Peli wasn’t cheap so they immediately returned to Karga for more bounties while they waited to hear back.

The return to their normal rhythm was welcome, but immensely improved by the addition of Nia’s flirting and Nia’s kissing and Nia’s… everything.

It became a race to be able to yank his helmet off as soon as the quarry was thrown into carbonite. Whether killing the power in the hull, or shutting the door on their tiny bunk, or even just trusting her to keep her eyes closed.

How other Mandalorians had managed it before him, he wasn’t quite sure.

He resolved to ask the Armorer the next time he went to the Covert. They used to populate a whole planet; surely it wasn’t a complete sin to remove his armor for her, his Match?

Nia, true to her word, never seemed to mind the elaborate measures they had to take.

If anything, they appeared to amuse her. And… on a few memorable occasions, she really seemed to enjoy them.

But to him, his Oath got heavier every time he put the helmet back on.

It went beyond the novelty of her skin on his.

Something… deeper, larger than just them seemed to nearly shudder to life every time she touched him.

Sometimes he would lie awake in their bunk, braided with her, running a hand through her hair as she slept peacefully on his chest, wondering if she felt it too.

This… thing hurtling towards both of them.

Perhaps if more of the Mandalorians’ history had survived the Empire, he’d know what it was.

But instead, they’d have to figure it out together. Just the two of them.

Just like everything else.

They’d been tracking their latest quarry across a mountainous planet for the better part of the day. The mountains were rocky, mostly barren, and littered with caves that made very convenient hiding spots.

They were both covered head to toe in a fine layer of dust from the wind blowing through the crags and valleys between the peaks. Where Nia had repeatedly cleared it away from her eyes was now a different color than her cheeks.

Hopefully, they were getting close.

“Din,” Nia’s voice called from a half dozen feet behind him. He looked back at her, but didn’t even need to see where she was pointing to notice the rising storm of dust racing towards them.

“There’s a cave up the ridge.” He reached a hand for her and put her in front of him as they hurried up the slope to the opening.

The storm blew them inside, covering them both in a fresh layer of brownish grey. Nia coughed a few times as she stumbled deeper inside.

They had to move quite deep into the cave to be free of the wind. Hoping for a break, Din checked the tracking fob. No, it appeared they were not any closer to their quarry.

As the storm fully arrived, the weak light of the sun was dimmed, casting the cave in near total dark.

He reached for his helmet lamp, but a soft blue glow from behind them stopped his hand.

“What’s that?” Nia murmured, moving towards the glow without a moment’s hesitation. Din followed after taking enough hesitation for both of them.

There was a narrow crack in the wall, just big enough for them to slide through one at time, that opened into a large cavern, the walls lined with what looked to be some sort of bioluminescent moss.

The visor on Din’s helmet immediately beaded with water from the warm, humid air. In the middle of the cavern was a pool of opaque teal water, steam rising slowly from the surface.

“The nav computer did say something about hot springs,” Nia said, already walking down towards the pool.

“It may be unsafe.”

Nia stopped by the edge and dipped her staff into the water. It didn’t appear to harm the wood, or her palm when she caught a few drops. She knelt down and reached for the water, sighing as the dust washed away from her skin.

“I think it’s okay.” She grinned and splashed a small handful on his boots. Then she dropped her staff and immediately started kicking off her boots as she unfurled her braid.

“What are you doing?” Din asked, accused really, as her jacket went the way of her boots. Out of habit, he turned away as she grabbed the hem of her shirt, making her laugh quietly at him.

Though some part of him was ...interested in looking back over his shoulder, he didn’t move.

“I am generously granting the quarry one more hour of freedom.” There was a sound of a zipper and more fabric rustling.

Make that very interested.

He huffed, still not moving and clinging to stubbornness in lieu of actual self-restraint. “We don’t have time…”

“We can’t go anywhere with that storm outside. Might as well relax.” She poked his side, making him jump slightly and meet her teasing smile before she waded into the water.

Oh, he was a lucky lucky lucky man.

“Nia,” he said because every other word seemed to have flown out of his head.

The opaque water came halfway up her torso, just wetting the ends of her hair before she slipped fully under the surface.

“Ohh…” she sighed as she resurfaced. Her grin returned as she noticed him still waffling on the shore, yet absolutely enraptured.

Yeah, she knew she had him. And he really didn’t mind all that much. The view was quite lovely from up here.

She swam closer, giving tempting peaks of her strong arms pulling herself through the water, before sinking down so just her head was above the surface. “I would invite you in, but I’m afraid you’d rust.”

He smiled slightly. “Beskar does not rust.”

“Your iron will might.”

He looked back to the opening. Anyone who tried to break in would have to scramble through there, enough time for him to get to shore and grab his blaster if he had to. He unbuckled his rifle and set it next to her staff.

Nia’s smile was bright enough to light the cavern before she turned around. “I’ll close my eyes.”

It took him several minutes to remove the weapons and the armor and the padding and the jumpsuit and the underclothes. Nia had taken to floating while she waited.

He was careful to set both his helmet and his blaster within easy reach. Then he waded in, a deep groan falling out of him as the extremely rare luxury of warm water seeped into tired muscles.

She must have heard him as she chuckled. “Told you.”

It was dark enough to obscure the fine details, but he still didn’t want to risk anything. So he swam out to her and pulled her into his arms, her back against his chest.

The universe settled into place as she did.

“One hour,” he said, reminding himself more than anything.

They floated together for a while in restful quiet, fingers intertwined and her head tucked under his chin.

It’d been a long time since he’d felt such Peace. It was… heavy, secure and immoveable.

“Are those your stars?” Nia asked quietly. “The tattoo on your back, is that your stars?”

“Yes.”

“Tal’onidir, right?” He nodded, and she hummed. “I don’t–what’s that one again…”

“Blood struggle.”

“Oh… that’s… apt.”

She laughed lightly, making him smile and chuckle.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Yours are the interesting ones.” He could still picture the relief of her and the stars beside it. “The Mythosaur crown...”

She shook her head and stiffened. “I don’t think those are really mine.”

“You don’t think you’re destined for greatness?”

She scoffed. “We. We are destined for greatness, if they’re true.”

“But it’ll be difficult.”

“Yes. Hard… but worthwhile in the end…”

The idea of Greatness seemed too big to understand. What did Greatness even mean for a foundling bounty hunter and a former vigilante?

Maybe… maybe it just had to be Great for them.

A home could be Great. Somewhere safe and peaceful. Somewhere to stay for a long time.

Usually even the idea seemed so far out of possibility that it became just fantasy.

He looked down at the curve of her cheek that he could see. The elusive idea didn’t seem quite so far out of reach when he was holding her.

“Wonder what it means?” she murmured, her thoughts apparently similar to his.

He kissed her cheek. “I don’t really care.”

She smiled as he tilted her head back enough to kiss her, soft and slow. Before the angle could become strenuous for her, he kissed up her jaw and then down her neck, feeling her every last muscle completely relax as he made his leisurely way across her shoulder.

Her thumb traced the small bullseye tattoo he’d given himself decades ago on his hand before dragging up his arm to brush over the Mythosaur on his deltoid.

“Do you have any tattoos?” he asked, not lifting his lips from her skin.

“Just the one.”

“Where?”

She chuckled. “Why don’t you find it, bounty hunter?”

Challenge issued and permission granted, he nipped her strong shoulder, making her gasp slightly, before kissing his way back to her neck.

He lifted her hair, intending to kiss his way to the other shoulder, and found it.

The swooping Vod’oya ‘V’ rested at the nape of her neck.

The placement surprised him, he could have sworn it was on her arm. He leaned in to kiss it, then stopped.

Wait.

Why was he surprised?

Why did he think her tattoo was on her arm?

He lifted her arm from the water, turning it to examine all sides in the dim blue glow. No tattoo, just a few old scars.

“Din?” she asked, sounding concerned.

Something in his memory finally clicked.

“Did all the Vod’oya have the ‘V’ tattooed?” he asked.

“Yeah, we all got one after our first mission on Cantonica.”

His thumb stroked across the skin just below her elbow as shock filled his senses.

“You’re not the first Vod’oya I’ve met.”

“What?”

“I had a quarry… few years back. By the Guild code, the events are technically forgotten, but… it’s hard to forget a fight like that.” Something else unlocked. “And then… Karga had me deliver the quarry directly to the client.”

“What did she look like? The Vod’oya?”

The rain on the rooftop came to mind first. Then the hooded woman, blocking his blaster fire with just a simple sword and making it look all too easy.

“Red hair. Tall, broad, a scar on her cheek. The tattoo on her right arm, right here.” He tapped Nia’s forearm again, the image of the unconscious woman he’d carried to his ship finally clear in his mind.

Nia sucked in a slow breath. “Phasia.”

As soon as the storm cleared, they captured the quarry and got back to the ship to contact Peli.

“Do you know what time it is?” Peli grouched, just her staticky voice coming over the com.

“Peli, we need you to look up some dates for us in the records. Tell us what’s there,” Nia said, fingers drumming on the dashboard. “And yes, we know it’ll cost extra.”

Peli grumped. “Alright, what dates?”

“Check about three years ago. Any mention of a kidnapping,” Din said.

“Or Captain reported missing,” Nia added.

There were several prolonged minutes of static-filled quiet from Peli, till finally, “I’m not seeing anything like either of those.”

“Are you finding gaps?” Nia asked.

“No. There’s no mention of anyone going missing at all. The only thing about Captain at this time is her being on shore leave for a week.”

Nia looked back at Din, the gears turning in her head. “Are you positive it was three years ago?”

“Yes.”

She nodded a few times, still thinking. “Thank you, Peli, let us know if you find anything new.” And she hung up.

“So three years ago, Phasia had a bounty put out on her, and she didn’t tell the rest of us that she’d been captured.” Nia frowned. “Why hide that?”

“Shame?”

“We didn’t keep secrets from each other, not like this. And she came back, why wasn’t she bragging about her heroic escape?”

“Maybe she didn’t escape. Maybe she was set free.”

Nia let out a long breath, twisting the end of her braid between her fingers. “Three years is before all the scrubbed mission gaps we found. Maybe they’re connected somehow.” She looked back at him. “Do you remember where you delivered her?”

“Coruscant. A penthouse above level 5000.” He’d never made it past the landing platform, but he remembered the shape of the building. “I think I know where too.”

Coordinates were set immediately. But even in hyperspace it would still take time to arrive.

They went through the motions of appearing busy. Din taking time to oil every weapon in his armory. Nia continued her work on her staff; she was beginning to run out of room.

Despite the ever building mystery, there was a question that had lived in the back of Din’s mind since Cantonica. Since they were stuck in a mandated wait, now was as good a time as any to ask.

“When we met Ro… she said that I was ‘one of them’. What did she mean?”

Nia’s hands stilled on her staff for a second, before resuming. “Did you ever go to the Festival of the Frost on the lake?”

Confused at her reply, he answered, “No. We could see the lanterns from up the mountain. When I was young, I tried to sneak out, but I was found breaking curfew.”

She glanced up at him, still working. “That’s what she meant. That you’re part of the– tribe up the mountain.”

Tribe was not the word she was going to use. He could feel it as clearly as her forced casual demeanor.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked, calmly. More curious than anything else.

She looked up now, conflicted, and let out a low breath. “Only what you’re not ready to hear.”

He reached for her hand and paused to take off his gloves, wanting to feel the touch of her skin. Pulling her hands off her staff, he held them gently, thumbs brushing over her bruised knuckles.

“Nia. Please.”

She squeezed his hands and was quiet for a few moments, obviously putting her thoughts in order.

“How long were you on Mandalore? Before the Purge?” she asked, searching his visor.

“I finished my training and was sent out a few months before Keldabe fell.”

“Why didn’t you go to the Festival when you were sent out? You were an adult; you could have competed in the tournaments. Or seen the ruins?”

The very idea twisted something in his gut. “…Because… it’s… it was unwise.”

“What was?”

“To…” Why was she asking this? “To spend time with those who were not true Mandalorians.” The old Armorer’s voice still rang clearly in his ear.

She nodded slowly. “What about me? Am I not a true Mandalorian?”

“Of course you are,” he replied, even though something nasty and cruel inside contradicted his own words.

“I went to the festivals,” she said, still conversationally calm. “I saw the tournaments. I was born in Keldabe.” Am I not a true Mandalorian?

Now that she’d laid it out before him, he could see where his own logic wasn’t adding up. He strained to rectify the gap.

“You’re… different,” he insisted.

“How?”

“You’re my Match.”

“What if I wasn’t? What if I was just a woman from Mandalore that you happened to find on Tatooine?” She was studying him closely, not giving him an inch to escape in. “My ancestors rode the Mythosaur. If the Empire had not invaded, I would have worn my mother’s armor. If I wasn’t your Match, would I still be Mandalorian in your eyes?”

The damning truth was that he knew the answer. And in spite of all of his training telling him it was the correct option, he hated it.

“Why does it matter?” he asked, his words heating slightly in his frustration. “It can’t be changed. You are my Match, which makes you Mandalorian.”

“But it doesn’t make me part of your tribe.”

That banked his frustration, concentrating the heat back his way. She’d been allowed in the Covert when she wasn’t in her right mind. But now… even though he considered her Mandalorian, she was barred from entering.

His Match, and possibly someday his chosen partner, forbidden from his community.

How could that be right?

But it was… wasn’t it?

“What happens, exactly, if another living being sees your face?” Nia asked, drawing his attention back to her concentrated study. “If you revealed it, by choice?”

“I could never put my armor back on,” he said in a low voice, his gut twisting for all new reasons. “If… If I chose to break my Oath, I would return it. To the tribe. Let it be melted down and given to a warrior who deserved it.”

She seemed to sense his unease with just talking about it and squeezed his hands tightly. “And would you still be part of the tribe?”

He shook his head, frowning down at their hands. A black pit had opened in his stomach. “No. I would be… as dead—worse. Forgotten.”

“Then what?”

His gaze lifted. “What?”

“You’ve returned your armor, you’re exiled from the tribe, but you still have your life. Then what?”

His mouth opened and shut a few times as he tried to picture something, anything, that would come after That.

It was just darkness. And isolation.

“Then… Nothing. I would have nothing. I would… deserve nothing.”

She let go of his hand to press the control panel on the wall, immediately killing the lights. He was surprised at her clambering into his lap and pulling off his helmet, before wrapping him in a tight embrace. It was tight enough to squeeze the air out of his lungs, but bracing because of it.

She held him tightly for a minute before speaking. “You’d have me,” she whispered fiercely near his ear. He could hear tears in her voice and that made him hold her just as tightly back.

“You’ll always have me,” she promised, letting go just enough to press her forehead to his. “And even… even if you didn’t have me… you have Peli.”

The absurdity of her sentence pulled a laugh out of him. “What?”

“You’re a good man, Din Djarin. And there are more people like you out there in the galaxy than you may think.”

“Point one out next time you see one,” he muttered.

She huffed in amusement, then sobered. “I understand fearing losing your home, more than most. I do.” Foreheads still touching, she shook her head. “But you’ll never have nothing. And you’ll never deserve it either.”

She kissed his forehead, hands cradling his face as if it was beyond precious to her, despite never seeing it.

Something flickered through where his forehead met her lips, deeper than just a star burst.

A loyalty other than his own. A hope so determined it felt like a gift.

A curling wisp of Connection that evaporated so quickly he could almost second guess its existence at all.

So he pulled her down for a kiss, and he didn’t stop kissing her till they arrived at Coruscant.

Despite the entire planet being one metropolis, there still weren’t too many buildings that reached all the way up to level 5000.

Din was piloting as they approached, trying to picture any other landmarks around the twin-spired building from his memory. If he wasn’t mistaken, it wasn’t too far from the old Senate Plaza.

After an hour or two of searching, Nia suddenly gripped his pauldron. “Wait.”

He pulled out of the flow of traffic and then spotted a twin-spired building. That had to be it, right? He flew closer and the octagonal landing platform for the penthouse came into view. Yes, he remembered that too. This was it.

“Stop,” Nia ordered before they got close.

He turned to ask her and found her scrambling back up against the door out of the flight deck, her eyes wide and frozen on the building.

“Nia.” He leapt out of his chair and reached for her, purposefully blocking her view as his bare hand cupped her cheek.

Connection.

Images suddenly flashed in his mind, as if he was remembering but he knew he’d never seen them before.

Dropping off a grappling line onto an octagonal landing platform, exhilaration and rage flowing hotter than blood as she pelts for the door.

Skulking down a dark wide hall, listening intently for anything, hand gripping her blaster tight, and without warning, the lights blaring on, blinding.

Struggling against restraints on a cold table in a white sterile room as a mask is fitted to her face, panic threatening to drown her before gas hisses and everything dims.

Watching a human man in an elaborate suit run a finger along her cheek, wanting desperately to reach out and strangle him and not a single muscle responding. He smiles.

“Thank you for the intel. You’ll make a lovely gift, my dear.”

Din stumbled back for half a breath, the images stopping as soon as he broke contact with her.

What was that?

Nia’s frozen horror kept him from wondering further. He immediately pulled her into a tight embrace, shielding her from everything.

She was shaking, fingers curling under the edges of his armor. “Don’t go in there,” she begged in a wavering voice.

Even if the last time he hadn’t trusted her gut didn’t nearly kill him, her tone would have been more than enough to change his mind.

“We won’t. I promise.”

They parked The Razor Crest in a nearby docking bay and backtracked to the twin-spired building; Nia remaining calm though definitely uneasy on a second viewing. A nearby building was under construction, giving them a perfect place to set up for reconnaissance.

Nia kept watch on the landing pad while Din did his best to try and hack into the computer system. Despite both of them seeing his face, they still didn’t know the name of the man who owned the penthouse and had chipped her.

Unfortunately, Din wasn’t having a lot of success.

“One of us should learn how to work with computers someday,” Nia said, not looking away from the landing platform. As if it might try something if her eyes shifted an inch.

“I nominate you,” he replied as an error code popped up on screen again.

By the time night fell on Coruscant, neither of them had had any luck in cracking into the system.

“We’re going to have to hire a hacker,” Din said as Nia swore under her breath at the error screen’s most recent appearance.

“We can’t afford a hacker. We could barely afford Peli.”

“We could always come back. People that rich don’t abandon their properties. It’ll still be here.”

Nia frowned in the direction of the twin-spires, but before she could respond, the elevator in the middle of the building chimed for the first time since they’d arrived.

They both scrambled for cover, finding some behind support pillars mere seconds before the doors opened.

Din took the safety off his pulse rifle, making eye contact with Nia who had the better vantage. She dared a glance around and then held up a finger.

One person, they could easily take that.

He held up a flat palm before pointing at himself. Wait, me first. She nodded.

He stepped around the pillar, rifle trained on the small, cloaked figure just outside the doors.

“Who are you?” Din demanded, aiming for the shadow of the hood.

The figure walked forward, their gate smooth yet cautious. “What brings a Mandalorian to investigate this place?” the figure asked instead, her voice aged and lightly accented.

“My business is my own. I have no quarrel with you.”

“We will have a quarrel if you do not tell me why you are here, bounty hunter. You and your accomplice behind the pillar.”

Blaster out, Nia stepped around the pillar. “He asked you a question–who are you?”

The figure stared at her, as if in shock, then said, "Niæna?"

The figure pushed her hood back to reveal an older human woman with a head of curly grey hair and a long scar through one eye.

Nia dropped her blaster.

“Anella?”

Chapter 8: The End

taglist: @loversandantiheroes ; @kelenloth ; @keeper0fthestars ; @sarahjkl82-blog ; @thirstworldproblemss ; @spideysimpossiblegirl ; @i-belong-in-fandoms ; @gallowsjoker ; @nova646 ; @darnitdraco

[creativekat]

PTC, part VI

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

[Gif by @pascalsky]

Word Count: 4,534

Rating: 18+

Warnings: heavy petting, serious making out, unintentional piercing play

A/N: @the-purity-pen and I are so excited to share the next chapter!! Things are heating up and this ended up being our longest chapter yet!! We hope you enjoy and if you want to be added to the tag list let me know!!

Marcus’s hands were shaking and sweating as he drove to your house. He had no intentions of going inside in your house but when he offered to pick you up for the date you had bid on and won, you couldn’t help but smile and tell him yes.

At a nearby stoplight, he wiped his hands on the thighs of his suit pants. He opted to go semi-casual with suit pants and jacket but just a dark grey t-shirt underneath. Missy told him that a tie would be too much and she wanted him to be comfortable on his first real date in a long time.

When he finally pulled up to your house, he waited in the car for a minute to calm himself and remind himself that this was just a casual first date. Nothing serious had to come of it even if he had been crushing on you for nearly an entire year. He finally got the courage to go up to your door and give it a hearty knock.

You had gotten ready early, worried about making a bad impression by keeping Marcus waiting. So, you paced the living room of the small house you rented, trying to avoid walking to the hallway mirror to double check your appearance. You’d worn a dress and heels, though Marcus had told you it would be casual. The dress wasn’t fancy or anything, just a simple summery dress, which you paired with a cardigan sweater. 

When you heard the knock on the door, you nearly jumped out of your skin, you were so keyed up. Taking a moment, you took a deep, calming breath and released it hoping Marcus wouldn’t notice how jittery you felt. 

As you walked to the door, you couldn’t help but glance at your reflection. You actually felt pretty cute and paused to smile at yourself in the mirror. You grabbed your purse from the console table and answered the door. The sight of him took your breath away. People could rave all they wanted about Marcus Moreno’s Heroics gear, but you’d take him looking like this any day of the week. “Hi,” you breathed out. 

Marcus was just as dumbfounded seeing you dressed like that. Your hair looked immaculate and your smile was heart-melting. He blinked a few times, taking in your form before he finally swallowed a large lump in his throat and croaked out a soft “hi.”

You smiled wryly, finding it adorable how flabbergasted he seemed. His hands were wringing together in front of him and you stepped forward to place your hand on his which calmed him. He looked up at you and felt his heart skip a beat from how close you were.

“You look wonderful,” you complimented him and his cheeks started to flush pink.

Marcus shook his head, as if to clear it, before responding, “So do you. Stunning, in fact.” He laughed self-consciously at the admission. 

He turned, only let go of one of your hands, keeping the other firmly in his grasp as the two of you walked to his car. When you reached the passenger side door, he reached out to open the door and helped you into the seat before closing it and making his way around to his side. 

You hadn’t really discussed where the date would take place. Marcus had simply said he wanted to surprise you and that it would be “casual”. Anticipation swelled within you and your mind raced with the possibilities of what was in store tonight. You noticed that Marcus drove very carefully and you appreciated the fact that his regular persona seemed to be all about care and protective nurturing. You supposed this was because his hero persona faced so many risks. He glanced over at you and smiled and you returned it easily.  

Marcus finally pulled into the parking lot of the science center and you gave a soft gasp. Your secret passion was science and while you had adored many field trips to the science center over the years, somehow being here with Marcus was bound to be far more romantic and memorable.

As the two of you walked in, Marcus gave his name and the woman behind the counter gave you both paper bracelets that allowed access to every part of the center. His hand only left yours briefly to try to attach his bracelet but you giggled and helped him put his on. The close proximity had your pulse racing in your ears as you looked at his eyes when the bracelet was on all the way.

“Where are we going first?” you ventured in curiosity as you grabbed one of the center maps and unfolded it. It was much larger than the last time you had been there and you wondered what new exhibits had been added.

“How about the cute animals first?” Marcus asked as he started to walk backwards to lead you down the small hall to the exhibit. You bit your lip slightly when his eyes met yours, eyebrows slightly raised. It felt like he wanted to make you happy and your entire body warmed at the promise of what that meant. 

“When I came here as a kid, they let us hold a tarantula.” You tilted your head proudly, “I was the only girl in my class who was willing to do it.” 

Marcus returned to walking beside you and squeezed your fingers lightly, “I have no doubt. Any woman who can handle working with a bunch of pre-teen kids daily wouldn’t be fazed by a silly spider.” 

As the two of you entered the first room of the animal exhibit you saw that several parrots were flying freely about the room and laughed out loud when a small blue and gold Macaw landed on Marcus’ head. “I think that one likes you.”

Marcus’s whole body froze when the bird landed on him but your words caused him to let out a short burst of laughter. “Well he’s not pecking my head so I guess so,” he answered with a small chuckle before the bird was flying off his head and landed on your shoulder.

“Hmmm, it seems like he has good taste in women too,” he said with a wink and you swear your heart leapt from your chest at the simple gesture.

After some more venturing through the reptiles and the “exotic” exhibit that showcased sloths this month, Marcus took your head again and led you down a narrow hall. Just then, a small group of children decided to rush past you. “Whoa!” Marcus exclaimed as he turned and caged you in against the wall, trying to stop the both of you from being trampled on by the tiny feet as they all yelled and hollered past you.

You felt Marcus’s body pressed against yours shielding you from danger and the air left your lungs. Your skin tingled at his proximity and as the tiny army of children made their way into the room you’d just left you took a moment to try and catch your breath. Licking your lips you lifted your gaze to look Marcus in the eyes and spoke softly, “Thank you… for saving my life.”

Marcus chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated from his chest to yours, causing more tingles throughout your body. You laughed with him and though you were feeling the humor of the situation, you also felt something else. A yearning for him. 

He was feeling the same yearning as the two of you locked eyes in the narrow hallway. He hadn’t moved from his protective stance, even though the children had disappeared, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just startled.” As you spoke you realized how close his mouth was to yours. Either one of you could move slightly and you’d be kissing. He did just that and his lips were just brushing against yours when a voice from just outside the hallway broke the spell. You weren’t really alone and that was a stark reminder of the fact. 

Marcus pulled away from you, clearing his throat, and you gave him a lopsided grin, “Remind me to thank you more thoroughly later.”

Moving together toward the next room, both of you reached for the other’s hand as Marcus replied, “I look forward to it.”

An hour later and you had explored the exhibits that were actually open. The last one to see what the constellation one but there was some time before the next show would start. You stood with Marcus, your fingers intertwined, your back against the wall near the entrance to the stargazing exhibit.

“Do you want a snack before we go in?” Marcus offered, gesturing down the hall a bit to the vending machines. You nodded with a smile and he led you over to grab a couple of snacks and a soda to share. You were surprised his taste in soda was similar to yours.

The two of you were ushered in and took your seats. Before the show even started, your eyes were looking up at the domed ceiling. “Oh! That one is my fave! Machina Electrica,” you said happily as you pointed to the faded star shape on the ceiling.

Marcus looked up to where you were pointed and squinted. “You can see that?” he asked and you chuckled.

“I just know where it would be based on how they run the shows. Usually they start by showing you the current set up of the stars based on the earth’s rotation and then they slowly slide you through the seasons to show how-” you looked over at Marcus to see him staring at you and immediately clamped your mouth shut. “I’m sorry. I’m such a nerd about this stuff and I-”

Marcus placed his hand over yours gently and interrupted your rambling. “I like it.” You had immediately stopped talking assuming he was getting annoyed by your overwhelming passion for the star exhibit. But, his words were like cupid’s arrow, piercing your heart. If you liked him before that was nothing compared to the fact that he said he liked your geeky rambling. 

“Oh, well… umm, okay ...  good.” You felt your cheeks warming and Marcus smiled at you, thinking you look extra-beautiful with your shy smile and eyes shining with happiness. He felt the urge to kiss you again, but this was a public place and the seats were filling up quickly now that the show was close to starting. 

The lights dimmed and suddenly the ceiling above resembled the clear night sky. Several kids in the audience made an “oooh” sound and Marcus heard you gasp, one palm covering your heart. “It never gets old,” you whispered, and he thought to himself, he would bring you here every day if he could just see that look on your face.

The show ended and the two of you walked out hand in hand. Your heart was racing from the pure excitement and beauty of the star show. Marcus found that his heart was racing as well but it wasn’t from watching the stars.

As the two of you walked out into the chilly evening air, you felt your body shiver slightly as you adjusted to the new temperature. Marcus moved closer to wrap his arm around your shoulders and rubbed at your arm lightly. “You okay?” he asked. You nodded and told him you were okay, just adjusting to the night air.

You both started to walk slower as you reached the car. Marcus let his arm slowly slide down your body and you turned to face him. “Do you have anything else fun planned?” you asked as you looked into his eyes. The softness of his smile nearly melted you into a puddle on the ground.

“One more stop,” he told you as a playful smile crossed his lips. “And, if you want, we can make a bet,” he offered, his voice dropping an octave as he took a step closer, his hand resting comfortably on your hip.

“Oh yeah? A bet on what?” you asked, the playful smile echoing to your own face.

“If I win, you come home with me for a night cap.”

“And if I win?”

“You get whatever you want.”

“How about a kiss?”

“We don’t have to wait for that,” he said, his lips now brushing against yours before his hand came to the side of your face and his lips pressed against yours softly. Your hands came up to rest on his lower back as your mouth opened for him. Your tongue pressed against his in a sultry dance, pleading for more. 

You pulled away long enough to say, “I guess I’ll have to think of something else if I win then.” Your mouth searched for his again for another kiss. Your body stirred with longing to be closer to him than you already were, to feel his hands on your intimate places, to feel his breath against your skin. 

You both seemed to realize you were still in the science center parking lot and pulled apart reluctantly. “I’m not sure I can think of anything better than that though.” You could, but it was best to keep those thoughts to yourself right now. Marcus pulled you close to his side as he unlocked the passenger door for you, then teased you with another slow drag of his lips across yours. Eyes closed, you attempted to follow his mouth as it retreated. 

As you settled into the seat, you could feel your body’s reaction to him. And he hadn’t even used his power on you. He hadn’t known what he was doing the previous two times. You wondered what would happen if you told him about your piercing and how he could control them. Again, a conversation for another time. 

As he slid into the driver’s side, you asked, “So, any hints as to where we’re going? Other than it involves one of us winning something?” You smiled sexily in his direction. He looked over at you and narrowed his eyes a bit in a big smile.

“It’s a game. That involves a ball. Or two,” he offered simply before changing his attention to the car to start it up and take off. He drove for a few minutes but his hand rested on his thigh, his fingers tapping nervously as he drove down the freeway.

Your eyes caught the movement and you turned and placed your hand gently over his, your palm resting against the back of his hand, your fingers slowly interlocking with his. As he pulled off the next exit and waited at the red light, he pulled your hand up to kiss the back of it softly, lingering his lips against your skin.

Your heart raced at the gentle moment before he was placing your hand and his back down to his thigh as he took off towards the miniature golf course. You immediately let out a laugh when the sign came into view. “Petey the Pirate’s mini golf?” you asked with a laugh and Marcus just smiled brightly and nodded.

You laughed, a bright unfiltered sound, “I don’t think I’ve been here since high school!” It probably hadn’t been quite that long, but back then you’d spent a lot of hours at the mini-golf course. Not that you were going to admit that to Marcus Moreno. “So… whoever wins mini-golf gets to choose how the night ends, eh?” Glancing at your date, you wink at him then laughed again. 

Marcus grinned, “I take it I chose well when planning this date?”

“Oh yes, you’re two for two so far, Mr. Moreno.” You had been having a great time and it seemed like every time you thought the day couldn’t get any better, Marcus surprised you. Your heart raced just thinking about how he’d planned this special night for you and he’d gotten everything so perfect. 

He got out of the car and rushed around to open the door for you. The two of you walked hand in hand toward the booth that sold the balls and putters and you couldn’t help but laugh giddily in anticipation. Taking your putter and ball, you bit your lip looking at Marcus, “You should know that I’m … not very good at this game.” 

After paying the guy for the balls and putters, Marcus looked to you as he waited for his change with a raised eyebrow. The way you bit your lip was instantly driving him crazy but he cleared his throat and turned back to get his change before grabbing his putter.

“Yeah? Well, erm,” he cleared his throat again, “Maybe I can show you some tips and tricks,” he offered nervously, trying to sound smoother than he actually was. He nearly tripped over the little divider between the entrance walkway and the first green.

He straightened himself up and you found yourself snickering quietly. “Alright, alright. Let’s get to it so we can see what happens with our bet,” he said playfully as he set his ball down and took in a deep breath. He felt a familiar vibration through his hands as he guided the putter exactly where he wanted it to go to land the ball just outside the pocket.

You watched as Marcus lined up his shot and then the ball zipped it’s way toward the hole, stopping just short of dropping in. You looked at the ball then looked at him and raised your eyebrow, “I can see my work is cut out for me.” 

You dropped the ball onto the little dark circle that marked the tee. Looking down the astroturf lane, you lined up your shot. In truth, you could easily make this shot. You’d practically lived at Petey’s as a kid, but you wanted Marcus to win. Not to make him feel good about himself. You knew he wasn’t the kind of man to care about that stuff. But, the more time you spent with him the better that night cap sounded. 

So, you lined up the shot, then hit it just to the left of where you wanted it to go with more effort than the putt required. The ball overshot the hole and bounced hard off the little wall that lined the hole and stopped halfway back to its origin. “I might need that help,” You snickered.

Marcus’s gaze snapped back to you after having watched your ball go too far and bounce back. He was smirking but trying to hide it, trying not to make fun of you for being so bad on such an easy first shot. He nodded with a tight smile before moving closer to you. He leaned down and grabbed the ball and placed it just to the right of the mark instead of directly on it.

“Okay, first. Don’t trust the tee mark,” he told you as he stood up and turned towards you with a smile. He moved beside you to place his putter against the little fence to store it there. He turned back towards you and rubbed his palms together. “Alright. Show me your stance,” he told you and you stared at him for a moment with a cocked eyebrow. He laughed before moving to mimic as if he were holding the putt. “How you stand. You know, like this?”

You moved your feet apart, showing off a decent stance for mini-golf. Marcus nodded, “That’s good… but you don’t have a good grip on your putter.” He walked over to you, placing himself behind you. A slow smile spread across your face. He was doing exactly what you’d hoped he would. He began to manipulate your limbs, placing your arms where he thought they needed to be. Everywhere he touched you seemed to burn in reaction. 

Then Marcus’ arms wrapped around you, placing his hands over yours. His torso was pressed to your back and you practically moaned. You managed to keep the sensual sound to yourself. Marcus’ hands were tender, but you could feel the exact moment his powers manifested, working their magic on the putter in both your hands. The magnetic sensation tugged lightly at your piercings and this time you couldn’t help yourself. You whimpered quietly, feeling the vibration in your nipples and your clit. Suddenly your knees were weak.

Marcus didn’t hear you the first time but he absolutely heard you the second time as he swung your arms together and hit the ball. It bounced off the back wall gently, landing just a few inches away from his own ball. But he didn’t move. He felt like he couldn’t. His body was vibrating in a whole new way with the noise you were making. “A-are you.. Okay?” Marcus asked in your ear, his hands still covered yours over the putter.

Your lips curled into themselves as you nodded slowly. You couldn’t find the words to tell the man that you were on an official first date with that his superhero powers were tingling the piercings in your tits and clit. Marcus leaned a bit closer and his lips barely grazed the shell of your ear as he spoke again. “If you’re sure,” he spoke softly as he pulled away from you. You bit your lower lip, trying to stifle the whine you were tempted to let out from the loss of contact with him. All you could think about was being close to him, all the time.

Marcus was just as affected and immediately turned around to grab his putter and took a deep breath in, trying to calm himself. He knew he liked you, and from the way things were going, it was very clear that you liked him back. But was it appropriate to get that physical on the first date? It had been too long since his last first date but he was pretty sure that the sounds you were making were not ones he had made anyone make on a first date.

You watched him collect himself. He had turned away and part of you wondered if you’d done something wrong. It wasn’t like you’d been able to control your reaction to him. And it wasn’t like he’d intended to turn you on like he did. He didn’t even know about your piercings, so you knew he hadn’t meant to tweak them. When he’d been standing behind you, it had felt like maybe you were having an affect on him as well. 

Finally, he turned back to you and smiled, “Next hole is the Cave of Mystery!” Marcus added a spooky element to his voice when he said the name making you giggle. You were quickly figuring out that he was kind of a goofball, in the very best way. The more time you spent in his presence the more you liked him. As his daughter’s teacher, you told yourself you shouldn’t feel this way about him, but you couldn’t resist the desire to get closer. 

As you walked to the next hole, he took your hand once again sending a ripple of pleasure throughout you. The cave entrance loomed in front of you and as you both stepped inside, you commented, “I hope you aren’t afraid of the dark.”

“If I was afraid of anything, I likely wouldn’t be the world’s greatest superhero,” he replied playfully as he set his ball down to take his first shot. The ball bounced the corner and disappeared around a cave wall and he hoped it didn’t land in the sand trap.

He stepped to the side and turned towards you. “Do you need help on this one too?” he asked, feeling his heart ramp up in rhythm at the thought of being closer to you again.

You smiled wryly at him with a small shrug of your shoulders. “If you wouldn’t mind,” you offered quietly and took your place. Marcus took a moment and came up behind you again to hold you and guide your ball. The familiar vibrations ran down your body and you bit your lower lip with a soft moan again. The ball bounced just the same as his ball had done and around the cave wall it went.

But Marcus didn’t move except to put his face closer to your cheek. You could feel his light scruff tickling your cheek and you felt your body heat up at the closeness again. His breath was warm as it fanned over your skin and you could have sworn his lips had pursed to kiss the shell of your lightly. Before you could think about that or even react to it, he’d pulled back, “We should see where our balls went.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing at what he’d said. Spending all day with pre-teens meant your sense of humor sometimes took a dive into low-brow territory. This didn’t escape Marcus’s attention however and he chuckled lightly, “Can you even play mini-golf without everything sounding dirty?”

Finally letting loose with a soft giggle-snort, you shook your head, “I don’t think so. Unless maybe you’re a saint.”

Marcus gave you a look, his gaze full of heat and replied, “I’m not a saint,” as he pulled you around the corner. The light was much dimmer here. You remembered this had been a popular make out spot for the kids in your class when you’d been in high school. It was private and you could always hear when people were coming so getting caught was easy to avoid. 

As soon as the memory had formed in your head, Marcus was turning you into his body and kissing you again, his hand gently gripping the back of your head. Stepping back, you found yourself pressed to the uneven wall of the “cave”. You moaned deeply into his mouth as your hands ran over his ribcage and over his hips so you could cup his ass. 

Marcus’s lips slotted against yours and he groaned when your hands found his ass. He pressed you more against the wall, his hand sliding to your jaw to hold your face. His other hand slid up from your waist and tentatively explored over your stomach before sliding up over your breast.

Within an instant, his hand was buzzing with power and his palm attracted something hard from under your thin shirt. A piercing? His mind whirred with lust as he broke from the kiss for air and moved his lips down to your neck.

His hand on your breast placed his power directly where it could have the most effect and you responded immediately, making a sound between a gasp and a moan. Marcus continued to pull and twist gently at your nipple piercing, making you whimper softly, as he suckled at the curve of your neck. You were on the verge of coming already and he hadn’t even found your other piercing. As if reading your mind, he pulled away from your neck long enough to whisper in your ear, “What other surprises do you have for me?”

Jaggedly, you replied, “Why don’t we … say you won … and we can go … to your … place ... and you can ... find out?”

Tags: @boliv-jenta @fanfic-addict-98 @fandomtrashwhore @grandfanficstation @literally-anythin @mrschiltoncat @thisshipwillsail316 @yes-im-your-mom

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 117

Apologies for not getting this up at 2pm today EST like usual. Thank you to @baelpenrose for reminding me... There isn’t any particular reason, honestly. I’m taking some time off of work and actually forgot what day of the week it was.

Extra kudos to everyone who found this story this past week and absolutely blew up my notifications.  There are so many of you that I can’t name you all, but you made my heart swell with gratitude. I hope you all enjoyed it!

This chapter is revisiting something that has been hinted at in the story so far, and it’s something I’m setting up for later. 

I groaned as I looked at the sheer size of the files just transferred to my datapad. “Are there seriously that many to go through?”

Alastair took his seat across from me, already looking through some of the information. “When the Council agreed that open cooking classes were a good way to share our pre-Exodus cultures, it had to be expected.  One thing consistent across every nation on Earth…”

“We all gotta eat,” I sighed. Scanning through the files, my mind was already whirring away. “It looks like we can already sort this on a high-level and let the system do some of the work for us.” I grabbed a file and flicked it over to the emitter in the middle of the table. “Three main groups. First, suggestions sent in can be completely sorted by the computer so we can pull out most popular dishes, techniques, etc.”

Alistair nodded. “I will never argue my way into reading repetitive information.  The day I do, please drown me most unpleasantly.”

“Duly noted,” I grinned. With another flick, I added our second category. “Then volunteers for actually leading the courses. The computer can pull them out, then we can go through them once we have the data from the first group.”

Tapping his chin, my assistant made a thoughtful noise. “That should just leave people hand-waving to take the courses. How do you plan to go through that mess?”

“Throw them right out.”

He sputtered before staring at me. “Rather mercenary of you, don’t you think?”

I shook my head. “Don’t get me wrong, I want a total of how many people are showing interest, but that’s it. I’m loving the enthusiasm, but we don’t even know yet which courses we are going to do, or even what order. Once we have that set up, we can figure out how many people per group and create a formal sign up.  Hopefully one we won’t have to manually handle.”

“Mr. Khan can certainly handle that.”

“IF he has time,” I pointed out. “Pranav is grooming him as a candidate to take over on the Council once the colony is established.”

“Rather unfair to the voting process, isn’t it?”

I waved a hand at him. “He’s not the only one Pranav is mentoring. Pranav wants the ship to have a very strong pool of candidates, who are definitely capable of the job, whoever gets chosen.”

“I have to admit, it’s very forward-thinking of him. We are eight years out, aren’t we?”

“Seven and a half, I think. Noah?”

“Yes, Wisdom. By current calculations, we are seven years, eight months, three weeks, and four days from Von, using Terran standard time units.”

“And since we do not have time units established for Von, that’s the best we can do,” I sighed. “Thank you, Noah.”  Between work, therapy, and sparring with my sister and Charly, I hadn’t seen the big guy in weeks. It felt weird to miss someone who was omnipresent, but here I was, wishing I had more time to spend with a giant talking mushroom.

Dragging my focus back to Alistair, I answered his question. “Most of the Council are currently identifying candidates who they can pass the torch to once we are able to step down.”

“Most?”

Spreading my hands, I gestured to the room. “Do you see anyone here other than us?”

Alistair paled. “I beg you, please do not tell me…”

I groaned and dropped my head to the table. “No one wants this position, I swear.”

“Nearly dying several times does not make the role appealing, no.”

“Still alive,” I reminded him. “Besides, you know that has less to do with the role and more to do with me.”

“Well, yes. You have near-death experiences drinking tea.”

“Ass.”

Alistair smirked at me. “Yet you did not say I was wrong. Besides, I would have thought you were grooming Tyche to take over for you?”

“She would kill me for asking and you for suggesting it. Probably. If we’re lucky.”

“Fair…” he admitted, unphased. “Miss Harper?”

“Huynh got to her first.”

“I would have thought he would be more focused on your Mr. MacMaoilir.”

“Somewhat? But there is an arms-length clause to serving on the Council.” When he stared at me, clearly expecting clarification, I went on. “Councilors cannot be related, either romantically or familially. So, Conor would not be able to serve until I step down, which isn’t looking all that great at the moment.”

“And yet Councillor Huynh is still considering Miss Harper?”

“Ersatz sister is not real life sister, legally.”

He snorted. “Rather ridiculous, but if it allows Miss Harper to succeed, I will excuse it.” He tapped his chin again, thinking.

After an extended silence, I gave him a sardonic look. “See the dilemma?  I never thought that I would regret Jokul swearing to never take a position on the Council.  Hell, I told him before he pulled that stunt that I would gladly give him my job if I could.”

“As much as it pains me to suggest, have you considered that rather rude friend of yours?”

“Arthur? Sorry to say, your best friend is being mentored by Eino.”

“Mr. Costa?”

“Grey, duh,” I rolled my eyes. “Arms-length enough that they see no issue with my sorta-brother-in-law, apparently.”

“Your predecessor,” he threw out, exasperated.

“Said absolutely not, and is also being mentored by Eino.”

“Miss Reid, you are sorely in need of a wider social circle.” Scrolling through a list on his data pad, something caught his eye. “Has Councilor Kalloe considered her replacement?”

“Evania Josue is the favorite there,” I admitted.

“That could be our solution.”

“Our?” I teased.

“Very few people have the opportunity to choose their future boss,” he pointed out. “But if Councillor Kalloe steps down before or at the same time you do, Parvati Fletcher would be an option.”

“Huh,” I grunted. “I didn’t consider that.”

“There is also Hannah Bodenheimer, depending if Mr. Khan replaces Pranav,  or possibly Sebastian Reed. His file shows he was actually considered for my position, so he would be a good fit.”

I threw my hands up again. “How? How!? I’ve been trying to find someone for a freaking year and you just gave me three in five minutes.” I scowled and pointed at him as I brought my arms down.

“Rigorously avoiding potential death does wonders for my mental capacity,” he stated drily. “Also, had you asked me a year ago, you would be significantly less frustrated, I believe.”

I made a note on my calendar to speak to the three in question, while trying not to give him the satisfaction of looking too relieved. I’d never live it down. I was already concerned that this entire conversation was already logged right next to the choking-on-tea incident as ammunition for future needling.

I also resisted the urge to hug him in gratitude, largely because I wasn’t entirely certain the urge was actually to hug him, or if it was to choke the smug look off his face.

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[toplinetommy]

You Bring the Moon and Stars to Me (Part Five) - Tyson Jost

Synopsis: A Soulmate!AU where your soulmark only appears once you fall in love with your soulmate

Words: 7.3k

Warnings: mentions of injury

a/n:  type of injury is purely speculation since the details were never released, also his injury happened at an away game but for the sake of the story let’s pretend it was a home game. im thinking there will be 3 more parts but dont quote me on that and ofc feedback is always welcome, i hope you enjoy! 

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

January 2019 - Loveland, CO

It was like the second you had Tyson back, he was gone again. The day they got back from their Eastern Canada road trip, he was on his way to Loveland to start working with the Eagles. He hadn’t been able to spend much time with you, his schedule being just as hectic as always. Especially with the additions of the extra workouts Tyson had started to partake in. You rarely saw his car in the driveway of the Rookie House when you were over at Caitlyn and Jack’s.

His hair had been extra messy the last night you saw him the day he went back down to Loveland for the first time this season. You assumed it was due to his hands continuously pulling at it from being stuck in his head about his new playing situation. Since then, the image of your best friend being down in the dumps hadn’t left your mind. Throughout the time of knowing Tyson, you only really knew him as the cheery guy with a smile on his face 24/7. He was the most strong-willed person you had ever known.

A week and a half later and he still hadn’t seen any NHL ice time, still working his ass off at the AHL level to earn his roster spot back. You’re sitting in one of the many conference rooms at your office, listening to an executive give their monthly project updates when your phone rings. You see Tyson’s face covering your screen, begging to answer his FaceTime. You hit the lock button on your phone, stopping the vibrations, and turn your phone over, turning your attention back to the presentation in front of you. 

The vibration stops momentarily before it starts again, to which you ignore. The third time your phone rings, you know it must be important, so you excuse yourself as you push out of your rolling chair and leave the room.

As you slide to answer, Tyson’s face pops up onto the screen. His hair is wet and the lighting is terrible, so you assume he had just showered at the practice facility.

“What did you need? I was in a meeting.”

“Sorry, I’ll be quick. I know I was supposed to come over to your place later for my pre-game meal but I’m really tired,” He whines.

“And you couldn’t have just texted me that?” You ask a sharp bite to your tone. He knew you worked the third Saturday of every month. He had even admitted to you one time that he’d check your Snapchat location to see where you were when you weren’t answering, so you were even more confused when he called not once, but three times.

“I need a favor, I’m gonna take a nap on one of the guy’s couches. Can you bring me my game-day suit?”

“Sure, just text me the time you need it by and the address,” You agree. “I really need to go, though, so I’ll text you later.”

“Thank you, Y/n! Love you.”

You spit out a quick ‘love you’ before hanging up and shoving your phone into your dress pants pocket before walking back into the meeting and apologizing about the disruption.

You park your car in Caitlyn’s driveway before making a bee-line across the street towards the Rookie House. You lift your hand to knock on the door before you remember Tyson telling you that no one was home and you needed to find the spare key. You jog down the stairs to his bedroom in search of his game-day suit. 

You look on his bed, which is a mess and un-made, causing you to roll your eyes, not seeing the suit he said he had laid out this morning when he left for practice. You move to his closet, hoping to see a suit in the front that had been previously picked out, but still no luck.

Instead of shooting him a text or calling him to ask where it is, you let your hands slowly pass over the multiple blazers he has hanging up. Your hand lands on a navy blue blazer with slightly exaggerated lapels, being unfamiliar with it you pull it out. Granted, you rarely say Tyson in suits, and even when you did you always noticed his love for different shades of grey. You smile to yourself as you pull it out and lay it over the bed smoothly before going back to his closet to find a dress-shirt to match.

A few minutes later you have a white-shirt with small polka dots on it picked out with his navy suit. Alongside that, you picked out his brown belt and grabbed his brown dress shoes, and started looking for a pair of socks. You pull open all of his drawers, finally finding the one that holds his socks and you end grabbing a pair of simple grey ones.

You set the suit and shoes in the back seat of your car once your back at Caitlyn’s before she’s walking out in a Colorado crewneck and jumping into your passenger seat.

“Can you look for a place we can get dinner after I drop this off to Tyson?” You ask of her as she buckled her seatbelt and you back out of her driveway. The two of you make banter and eventually find a wing place to eat as you drive down the highway to Loveland. 

Once you arrive at the apartment Tyson had texted you the address of, you’re climbing up the stairs to the front door, suit, and shoes in hand, before rapping at the door. You kind of knew you were cutting it close with his suit delivery, so you were anxiously tapping your foot as you waited for the door to swing open.

Tyson opens the door a tired look on his face as he’s taking a bite of what you see is a home-made sandwich. “You’re a lifesaver.” He groans, stepping to the side to let you in.

“It’s not a problem,” You assure, folding over the suit over the tops of your arms. “Here’s your suit.”

“Where’s the one I had laid out?” He asked confused as he reaches for your outstretched arms to take his clothes from you. You knit your eyebrows in confusion as you think back to how you didn’t see a suit set out anywhere in his room.

“There was no suit laid out in your room, which is a mess by the way,” You point out quickly. “So I just picked one out from your closet, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Thank you,” Tyson smiles, rubbing his thumbs over the lapel of the blazer. The image of you browsing through his closet popped into his mind, a rather domestic image that caused his smile to grow wider. The thought of you doing that without being asked to caused butterflies to slight erupt in his stomach and his cheek started to heat up with the thoughts racing through his mind.

“I think you need some new socks, all of them were so boring.” Tyson laughs at your statement. “Get some striped ones or ones with polka dots, I don’t know, just not plain grey and black ones.”

He nods his heads stifling a laugh at your odd request before the owner of the apartment appears from a hallway in his suit. Tyson quickly introduces the two of you before he’s pushing you out the door so he can get dressed and head to the game. As you turn your body to head back to your car, Tyson stops you.

“I have exciting news before you go.”

“Yeah?”

“This is my last game,” He beams, his eyes squinting from how wide his smile is. “I’m playing against Vancouver after the all-star break in a few days.”

You shriek at the news your best friend is sharing with you, “Oh my God! That’s amazing!” You open your arms welcoming Tyson in a congratulatory hug. “Told you you were a superstar,” you whisper as you pull away. The two of you share a soft look before you finally let go of your friend saying you’ll see him later.

You and Caitlyn are sitting in the lower bowl of the Budweiser Event Center, enjoying your beers and each other’s company while also focusing on the two teams in front of you. The both of you had agreed how nice it was to be back at a hockey game, both of you not being able to attend any in a little over a month with how busy you were. It was especially nice seeing Tyson play, you could see the jump in his body as he floated around the ice seamlessly.

It’s late in the game when it happens. Tyson’s skating down the far half-wall about to cross the blue line to enter the zone with the puck when an opposing player plows through his lonesome figure, sending him into the wall with a very loud thud. You gasp, leaning forward in your seat and reaching out for Caitlyn’s hand. You watch him as he stands up, grateful for the fact that he’s even able to do that quickly given the harshness of the hit, but watch him as he skates away back to the bench slowly.

He immediately walks down the tunnel to the locker rooms and you lean in your seat further, bringing your free hand to your face to bite on your cuticles out of nervousness. Caitlyn squeezing your hand combined with the loud voice over the arena speakers announcing the penalties brings you back down to earth. Your fingers stay at your lips for a moment longer until the sudden urge to scratch at your elbow envelops your mind.

“Hey, he’s probably fine and just got the wind knocked out of him.” Caitlyn reasons. You both know she has no idea what she’s talking about, but the thought behind it is welcomed. The remainder of the game feels like a lifetime as you anxiously check your phone for texts from Tyson, tweets from the team, anything that may give you insight on what’s happened.

At the same time as the final buzzer sounding throughout the arena, your phone vibrates in your hand where you’re holding it tightly. A text from Tyson pops up.

Tyson: im okay

Tyson: sorry it took so long to text you i was going through concussion protocol

Y/N: so you’re fine?!

Tyson: no

Tyson: i have a concussion

You groan at the response, showing Caitlyn your conversation before typing out a response saying you’ll meet him by the locker room shortly.

Tyson emerges from the locker room, holding an ice pack to his left shoulder. Upon seeing the ice pack, your shoulders drop out of sympathy for him and you feel a pang in your chest. As he approaches you, head down to avoid the bright, white, LED lights in the hallway, you let out a low ‘Tyson’.

“Hey.”

“You said you just got a concussion,” you point to the icepack on his shoulder.

“It just hurts.” He winces, eyebrows knitting in pain. You give him a side-hug, careful to not aggravate his shoulder.

“I, uh, I’m going to need a ride back to Denver,” Tyson starts. “I can’t drive.”

You rub his good shoulder, trying to comfort him as you look back towards Caitlyn. “Can you drive my car home and I’ll drive his car home? You can just park it at your house.”

Caitlyn agrees, the three of you walking out to the parking garage making small talk before you go your separate ways. The hour-long drive is spent in quiet, Tyson leaning his head against the window with his eyes closed for the most of it. He only lifts his head when he feels the car drive over the junction between the black asphalt of the street and the concrete of his driveway.

The two of you walk into his home, him instantly making way down the stairs to his bedroom while you opt to go to the kitchen to get the both of you glasses of water. Another few moments pass before you decide to venture down to his room.

He’s in the dark, only his bathroom light illuminating his vast bedroom. He’s laying on his back in the middle of the bed, his legs dangling off the edge. He groans a little at the noise of your feet padding along the hardwood before sitting up and leaning back on his hands. 

“You feeling okay?” You ask, moving to sit down next to him and hand him the other glass of water.

“I’m fine,” He mumbles and you know he’s just processing the injury and everything going on with his career so you stay quiet, letting him be the one to decide when to speak. Instead, you too lean back on your hands, resting yours right next to Tyson’s, pinkies touching. His hand flinches at the touch but he doesn’t move away.

“I just can’t catch a break it seems,” He breathes out barely above a whisper. He lays back onto the bed, falling into the fluffy comforter and rubs his face with hands. 

“Tys,” you drag out. You twist your body around, tucking your legs underneath you on the bed to face him. There’s a pull in your body that wants you to reach out and move his hands from his face or even put a reassuring hand on his thigh but something in you stops you. “Things like this happen to everyone, you just have to get healthy and play just like you were when you got the call saying you were going back to the Avs.”

“But if I would’ve just been skating with my head up I could’ve avoided the hit.”

“That guy absolutely blew into you, I don’t think much would’ve stopped him from doing that. It was a dirty hit and he knows it.”

Tyson mumbles out an ‘I guess’ before sitting up abruptly with a groan. “You want ice cream? I want ice cream.” He decides, standing up and reaching out for you. You grab his hand, standing up from his couch and following him up the stairs to the kitchen. 

“I didn’t think you health nuts even knew what ice cream was.” You joke, trying to lighten the mood. Throughout the whole time you knew Tyson and his roommates, the most unhealthy thing you had seen them eat were chocolate almond butter cups and those were from Whole Foods so it barely counted as junk food in your eyes. Tyson pulls out a pint of ice cream and you look to inspect it, noting the words ‘dairy-free’ on it. 

You roll your eyes, “I take that back because of course you have the ice cream that’s considered healthy.”

Tyson laughs at you as he grabs two spoons from the drawer across the kitchen from you. He smiles instead of responding right away, and your face mirrors him, a large smile now playing at your lips. 

He places the two spoons on the island next to the pint, going to the edge of the kitchen and turning the light off so the only light in the kitchen is the light from the entryway and the light on off the back door creeping through the large kitchen windows. Tyson takes a seat next to you on the barstool opening the ice cream and digging his spoon in. 

The two of you eat the first few bites in silence before Tyson sticks his spoon into the pint one last time. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Of course, I do have one request though.” You start, Tyson raising his eyebrows in curiosity. “Can I help pick out your suits more often? That was fun.”

“That just means me bugging you more about my colorblindness, ya know.” He jokes. “But, I’ll take it.” 

“I think you need to incorporate more prints into your closet, all of your suits are so plain.”

“I have two striped ones, what are you talking about?” He asks incredulously with a laugh.

You put your spoon in your mouth, eating the bit of soupy ice cream that’s still left. As you chew you mentally go through his closet. “Yeah, but you need some plaids and checks.”

“We’ll see about that.” 

You laugh at his inability to stray away from solids, even though you’ve seen him in some crazy printed t-shirts before. You dig your spoon in the ice cream for one more bite before clasping the lid back on. Tyson moves to put it back in the freezer, but you stop him and do it yourself, also placing the two spoons in the dishwasher. 

“So, what’s next?” You ask, talking about the next steps of his concussion injury and training. 

Tyson leans back in his chair, running one of his hands through the hair on the back of his head. “Pretty much just rest until it goes away, then play some more in Loveland, then hopefully get the call to come back to Denver full-time.”

You watch him as he speaks from across the kitchen, focused on the softness and uncertainty in his voice. He was not only in physical pain from the hit a few hours prior, but also clearly mentally beating himself up. Tyson was one of the hardest workers you had ever met. He was someone that went to practice early and stayed late if it meant more ice-time and reps, someone that put in those extra miles on his morning runs, someone that watched and studied game-tape until his eyes were strained from the blue light of the screen. Knowing how hard he worked day in and day out only made your heart ache more at the circumstances the brunette found himself in.

You walk quietly over back to Tyson, standing next to him where he’s sitting. He turns around to gaze up at your face before you begin speaking.

“You’re the hardest worker I know, I believe in you.”

Tyson, in a moment of both vulnerability and bravery, lens his head forward and rests his head on your chest. You’re surprised by his actions and your movements are stuttered before you wrap your arms around his neck and run a hand through his curls. He lets out a hum, his eyes fluttering shut at the newfound comfort you’re giving him. 

The two of you stand for a few more moments, reveling in the contact and the quietness surround you due to the late night and emptiness of the home. Your eyes glance to the clock, noting how late it’s gotten. You want to pull away to tell him you should head home soon, your breathing starting to slow due to being tired. Your early work morning combined with the whirlwind events that happened over the past two hours pushed your mind to the point of exhaustion. 

However, you don’t move away, knowing this is what your best friend needs most right now. The feeling of comfort and being with someone that knew him as deeply as you did being something he desperately needed. An itch on your elbow pulls you out of your thoughts and Tyson whines when you slightly pull away to scratch at it, to which you chuckle.

“I had an itch,” You pause, leaning back away from Tyson so he has to sit up straight. “And besides, it’s starting to get late. I should head home soon.”

Tyson doesn’t whine again but slouches his shoulders and puffs out his lower lip, giving you a puppy dog look that you haven’t seen much when he’s sober. “Please stay.”

The request surprises you. Sure, the two of you are insanely close, but the two of you never really had sleepovers due to your schedules and only ever stayed over on drunken nights when it was an easy decision to make. Come to think of it, the last time you guys even slept in the same house was before you dated Aiden, when you shared a hotel room at the Landeskog wedding.

You contemplate the thought, being one that usually didn’t mind driving home at the late hours of the night. His eyes were puffy, a sure sign from how tired he’s been lately, the scrape underneath it from his visor bright red, and his overall aura was screaming please, so you give in. “I need sweatpants then.” you motion to the jeans adorning your legs and he jumps up.

“You got it.”

You follow him down the stairs back to his bedroom and watch him move around his room, cleaning up some of the mess and tossing you a pair of sweats.

Once you reemerge from the ensuite bathroom, you see Tyson laying down in bed, covers up to his armpits. He turns his head towards you then pats the emptiness beside him, gesturing for you to lay down. He’s got this dopey look on your face that melts your heart and you smile, holding your jeans to your chest tightly.

“I can sleep on the couch, it really isn’t a big deal.”

“It isn’t but why sleep on the couch when there’s a perfectly comfy spot for you in a bed?” He jokes. You can barely see his facial features now that you’ve turned the bathroom light off and you flip the flashlight on on your phone, being careful not to shine it towards his face. You smile nervously as you set your jeans down by your shoes at the foot of the bed and carefully climb into bed next to him.

“Maybe leave a little room for a girl, jeez,” You comment, trying to maneuver around Tyson’s sprawled out body. You miss the way he rolls his eyes as he dramatically pulls his body into a plank-like position. You set your phone down on the dresser next to you before getting comfortable despite the anxiety you’re starting to feel. Your stomach shouldn’t be in knots right now, should it?

“I know I said it before, but I really appreciate you coming tonight.” Tyson starts, sighing out a large breath of air. He’s twiddling his fingers in front of him, occasionally bringing them to his lips to bite on his hangnails. “It means a lot having someone by my side through all of this. It can be hard talking to Kerfy and JT sometimes.”

You turn your body to face him, still leaving a substantial amount of space between the two of you in the expanse of his king-sized bed. “That’s what best friends are for, Tys. Don’t ever hesitate to talk to me. It can be about anything, hockey, family, music, whatever you want and I’ll listen. Just know that you can talk to JT and Alexander too, they’ve been in your shoes being in the AHL and they just want to see you back with them just as much as the rest of us. Well, maybe not more than your family and me. We’re your biggest fans.”

“Biggest fans, eh?” he quirks an eyebrow up.

“Yeah, didn’t you know? We’re all in a group chat and it’s called Tyson Jost’s Fan Club. We just send pictures of you back and forth.” You joke, causing a loud, boisterous laugh to escape from Tyson’s mouth.

“You’ve never even talked to any of them besides my Grandpa, shut up.” He lets out once he’s calmed down from laughing, a loud yawn following.

“We should go to sleep, it’s been an exhausting day for both of us.”

“But I’ve missed talking to you.” He admits. And honestly, the statement has you thinking. This probably is the most time the two of you have spent alone together in months, so you give in and talk with him about anything and everything until he suddenly stops responding and you see his mouth droop open with heavy breaths of air coming out.

Sleep didn’t find you as easily, though, as you gazed at your best friend across the bed, thoughts consumed your brain. The two of you had nowhere near a physically affectionate friendship and all of the small touches and long gazes that happened throughout the day have a smile forming on your lips as you continue to look at the brunette in front of you. Yeah, the two of you laid soft touches on the other but it was usually when you had alcohol in your system or when you were especially tired. The look he gave you in the kitchen moments prior is what stuck with you as you drifted off to sleep.

The next few days for Tyson were spent just like that night. You would go over there after work and stay until you headed home later that night. As the days passed those late-night drives were spent with more and more yawns but it was worth it if it meant seeing Tyson and keeping him company. 

That was until today. You had gotten behind on your project at work from being at Tyson’s so much recently so you had told him last night when you left his house that you’d see him in a few days. As your phone rang during your lunch break with Tyson’s face filling the screen, you should’ve known what he was about to say was coming.

“Please come over later, I’m going insane being by myself. The guys don’t get back from the all-star break until Friday and I can’t look at any screen or sleep because of my concussion so I need you to entertain me.” Tyson rushes out. 

“Aren’t you supposed to see the team doctors today?” You ask confusedly. It was barely 1:30 in the afternoon so you thought he would be at the training facility still.

“I already did, I still have a concussion,” Tyson confirms. “I just have to go back every other day to get checked. They said it’s looking better and it’s less serious than they thought which is good.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” you nod. You really do want to see him later, getting used to seeing him every day for the past few days. Part of you knows that one day won’t hurt either of you and that you know you’ll just be at his place tomorrow, but something in your mind is telling you to go over there after work. “If I come over later, I’m bringing my laptop, I need to get some stuff done to prepare for a meeting I have on Thursday.”

“That’s fine, I’ll order us food even, as a thank you.”

You want to argue with him, not wanting him to spend his money on you but the two of you have had that conversation a hundred different times all ending with the same result. You usually said you made ‘big girl’ money and were proud of it to which he said he was proud too, but he also made ‘big boy’ money and had enough leftover to comfortably spend it on his closest friends. 

“Sounds perfect,” You smile. “My lunch break is about to end, so I have to go but I’ll text you when I leave later.”

Tyson says goodbye and the rest of your workday flies by and next thing you know, you’re pulling your car into Tyson’s driveway. You see the garage open so you walk thought it, closing it as you enter the door inside. Once your dinner is consumed the two of you migrate to the living room couch where you pull your laptop on your lap to start working on your meeting notes.

“What’re you doing?” Tyson inquires, leaning towards you to get a better look at your screen.

“I have a meeting to kick-off a project later this week so I’m just making sure I have all of my notes done.” You explain, typing away at the keyboard. “It’s a bigger one, so there are a lot more steps and handoffs and stuff you might not understand.”

“No, tell me, I wanna know.” He urges, scootching his body closer to yours so your thighs touch. As he stops moving, you think of how easy it would to just fall into him and rest your head against the broadness of his chest. You focus more on the screen in front of you, dimming the brightness so it doesn’t hurt Tyson’s eyes and explain it to him. Before long, his head plops onto your shoulder, snores escaping his slightly ajar mouth. You gaze at him, noticing the cut that was once bright red on his cheekbone is now just a scratch and you reach out to run your finger over it. He stirs at the touch, and you freeze out of panic before focusing back on your laptop and continuing to work. 

The stillness around you makes your eyes start to droop and you slowly start to slouch more and more on the couch before resting your head atop Tyson’s and joining him in sleep. 

Your phone ringing on full-volume next to you pulls you from your sleep. You see Caitlyn’s name as you grab it and slide to answer the phone.

“Are you still at Tyson’s? I was closing my garage and saw your car across the street.” She asked in way of a greeting.

“Uh, yeah, we fell asleep.” You say, voice groggy and laced with sleep. You open your eyes more, looking to Tyson’s still sleeping figure and noticing the movement the two of you have made. His head isn’t on your shoulder anymore, as it fell in his sleep to use your chest as a cushion. His hand that’s closer to you is draped across your thigh the other outstretched along the couch. “What time is it?”

“Almost 10:30. Wait, what do you mean we? Like, you and Tyson sleeping together?” She asks, almost in a shriek-like voice. Your body jumps awake at the notification of how late it’s gotten, Tyson sliding off your body from the movement.

“I was working and he fell asleep next, well on me, and then I fell asleep. Shit, I didn’t think I’d fall asleep for this long.” You curse. Tyson stirs next to you, slowing opening his eyes and groaning at the disruption in sleep. “I gotta go though, I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”

“Who was that?” 

“Caitlyn, she was confused since she saw that my car was still here.” You respond, sitting further up and moving your laptop to the coffee table in front of you. Tyson looks at his phone checking the time before letting a ‘holy shit’ seeing that it’s also pitch black outside.

“I’m gonna head out soon, I think.”

“You can stay, ya know.” 

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t have any of my work stuff for tomorrow and I don’t want to have to rush around in the morning.” You explain, rubbing your hands along your thighs. You lean forward, pushing a hand through your hair to fix the mess that was caused from your nap and stand up. He sits up further on the couch before joining you in standing, a loud sigh coming from his mouth.

“I’ll still see you tomorrow though, eh?” He checks.

“Yes, I just have to make sure my work is all done since I clearly didn’t get much done here.” You laugh. He follows you to the front door of his house, unlocking and opening it for you. Once your coat is slipped on you open your arms to hug him, “Such a gentleman.”

“For you? Always” He jokes cheekily. You smile at the comment before pulling back, but Tyson doesn’t let go of you so easily. You look up at him, then back to your feet, then back up to Tyson once more.

“Okay, I really gotta go,” You yawn.

Instead of letting you go, Tyson moves one of his hands from around your shoulders to the back of your head and pulling you into him. His lips land on the curve of your forehead before he whispers out a bye. You smile and close your eyes in content at the gesture, before you walk down the sidewalk to your car, turning once to wave to your best friend. The smile didn’t leave your face the entire drive home, and you honestly probably fell asleep with the same glee-filled smile plastered onto your face thinking of the new addition of the physicality of your friendship and how you could really get used it.

February 2019 - Denver, CO

“Do you want to go get lunch together? I haven’t eaten out for lunch in so long.” Caitlyn asks, barging through your office door. You peer up at your friend, abandoning the email you’re working on in front of you.

“I actually have lunch plans with Tyson, we’re getting poke.” A slight frown playing at your lips, as you decline her offer. “What about margs sometime this week? It can be a girl’s night.”

She smiles at your suggestion nodding her head, “That sounds perfect! Do you want to go out for them or stay in?”

“Hmm,” you hum. “Let’s go out tomorrow? Taco Tuesday at Aztecas?”

“Ooo, yes! Meet there at 7?” She asks, moving further into your office and sitting in the chair on the opposite side of your desk. you nod your head in agreement, turning your focus into the computer screen in front of you again. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with him haven’t you?”

“Who?” You ask, directing your attention back to her from where you started typing at your computer again. 

“Tyson.”

“Oh, yeah.” You say, quickly typing out the details of your email so you can focus on your coworker in front of you. “I guess we kinda have. When he got his concussion two weeks ago I was one of the few people that were in town with the timing of it all and stuff.”

“Every time I looked out my window, your car was in his driveway.” She notes, eyebrow quirked. 

“I would just go there, like, right after work and then I’d leave when I wanted to go to bed. We would just get food and hang out, just like we used to.”

“You mean like back before you had a boyfriend?” She asks. “Like last season when you guys were always getting dinner together or like all summer when he was constantly calling you?”

As Caitlyn concludes her questions, you lean back in your office chair thinking back on the past few months. You hadn’t really paid attention to your new habits with Tyson, but you were spending way more time with him than usual, but you just thought it was the extra free time the both of you have had lately. When you were with Aiden you only saw Tyson maybe once a week and most times it was in a group setting.

“I guess, yeah.” You smile. You had thoroughly been enjoying all the time you spent with him lately, all the laughter and banter was welcomed and the two of you knew exactly what to do to annoy the other one without ever crossing a line. “Do you think we were touchy before, me and Tys?”

Caitlyn crosses one leg over the other, “I don’t think so? Like you guys were just always with one another when we were in groups. When you were drunk, though? That’s another story.”

With Caitlyn answering the question the way she did, you knew you had to address the newfound physicality and affection between you and Tyson. Before you can get into more detail on why you chose to bring that up Caitlyn asks you,

“Have you guys been more touchy lately?” 

“We take naps together now, which is like, kind of a lot in a way? I don’t know,” You stop yourself, taking a deep breath as you try to gather your words to describe the feeling. “You know me, I don’t take naps but it’s like, we’ll be watching tv or something and he’ll just fall asleep and it’s not like he’s on the other side of the couch, Caitlyn. He’s right next to me and then he’s asleep with half his body weight on me and the feeling like, lulls me to sleep and we’ll wake up in the same position and not talk about it.”

Caitlyn watches you as you avoid her gaze as you talk, unsure of what she’s going to say about the new information. Especially when she was the one friend you had that really made you dig deeper as to why you felt certain things. The two of you hadn’t spent much time together outside of work lately, with her and Jack living together and you spending so much time with Tyson after his concussion.

“I also spent the night when he got hurt, like, as in I spent the night in his bed.”

“What?” She exclaims, jumping forward to the edge of her seat. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Nothing happened,” You assure with a chuckle. “We fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed and woke up that way.” You think back to that night and how when you woke up, you would’ve assumed the two of you would’ve moved positions throughout the night, but you somehow didn’t and woke up face away from him, back inches away from his. 

“How do you feel about those changes in your guys’ friendship?” 

“I think I like it. Part of me kinda thinks I just like the extra attention I’m getting, but the other part just thinks that’s just how we are now, ya know?”

“I see what you mean about the just liking the extra attention part, but I think it’s just how you guys are. Even if the two of you weren’t being physically affectionate through your friendship, the two of you were still affectionate in other ways.”

What she says makes sense, as you think about all the small quirks your friendship consisted of. He was always getting you refills at parties and the bar, offering to be the one that drove, grocery shopping together, while you helped make sure he kept his room clean and urged to him to let loose with you every once in a while. He kept you young while you grounded him. 

“All I know is that I haven’t even realized how much time I’ve been spending with him lately, which I’m really grateful for.” You smile softly. “He’s actually gonna be playing again in a few days I think.” 

The two of you continue talking about Tyson being able to return to the team and solidify your plans for tacos and margs tomorrow before she’s bouncing out of your office.

A few days later, Tyson was thankfully cleared to play again. Spending the first few days back in Loveland before getting the call to return to Denver. A call you hoped, primarily for Tyson’s sake, that was a more-permanent decision the coaching staff had made. You hadn’t seen him much in those few days, letting him get acclimated to the pace of the NHL once again. 

The three of you settle into your seats, feeling at ease from being back at the Pepsi Center for the first time since Tyson’s call-up. This time, however, you didn’t complain when Tyson offered to get the three of you tickets. You all hadn’t been able to go to any of the other games since Tyson’s call-up due to work events, Valentine’s Day, and your mom’s birthday, but as Tyson said the date didn’t matter as long as you’d come to one sooner rather than later.

It happens fast, you look from Caitlyn next to you to the ice in front of you due to an increase in cheering and you watch as Tyson catches as a pass on the edge of his blade before slapping a one-timer at the goal from the slot, goal horn sounding as the puck passes the goal line. You jump, arms thrusting in the air and loudly cheering ‘that’s my fucking best friend’ into the expanse of the crowd.

The next two periods flew by, Varlamov getting the shutout while Calvert and Agozzino added to the scoresheet. You all head out, walking towards the parking garage down the street you parked out as you send a great goal text to Tyson and telling him to call you when he gets a chance. 

An hour later, when you’re back in you’re apartment getting your stuff ready for your workday tomorrow, your phone finally rings, notifying you of an incoming call from Tyson. When the facetime call connects, you see him, a wide-smile and wet curly hair all over the place.

“Hey! Great game!” You exclaim, the happiness behind your words coming though with the wide smile that’s filling your face.

“Thank you! I’m glad you guys were able to catch this game.” He smiles. His phone is shaking from him walking around his house, as you watch the background change from his kitchen to the stairwell to his bedroom before he’s plopping down onto his bed. “It was so good to score, y/n, I want to bottle that feeling.” 

His eyes twinkle in the dim lighting of his room as he speaks, the sight of it making you feel more than elated for your best friend. “I’m really proud of you, I know I tell you that a lot, but you deserve feeling that way all the time, Tys.” You say softly, voice laced with sincerity. 

“I just have to continue to play the way I did tonight, and then there’ll be no doubt I’m supposed to on the roster. I know my roster spot isn’t a given any night and it never will be, but I want everyone to be confident in the decision to put me in the line-up every night.” He rambles. As he speaks you’re making your way to your bathroom, ready to start your nightly routine. 

You set your phone against your mirror as you put your hair into a low bun before grabbing a washcloth to wash your face. He starts talking your ears off about how happy he is to be back with the guys and the team chemistry as you finish getting ready for bed. You miss the way he looks at you as you brush your teeth since you’re too focused on the movements of your actions, but what you don’t miss is the ding on your phone with a new text message. 

Once you’re done spitting out your excess toothpaste and wiping your mouth, you grab your phone and head to your bed before looking at the message. “Tyson, what did you just send me we’re literally on the phone.” You laugh before fully opening the text and seeing the picture attached. It’s a screenshot from your call taken only a few minutes ago. Tyson’s dark smiling face in the top right corner while your face fills out the screen. At first glance, it looks like an accidental screenshot but with closer examination as well as Tyson’s muffled laughs on the line, you see the toothpaste dribbling down your chin and your eyebrows are knitted with determination.

You groan loudly as you swipe back to your FaceTime call, “Tyson, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You don’t know that, maybe I’ll just hang up and stop coming to your games” you stick your tongue out. 

“No!” Tyson interrupts. “You have to at least come to my games, you’re my good luck charm now.” He pouts, mouth quivering from trying not to smile.

“Fine.” You huff, a smile cracking on your lips. The two of you talk for a little while longer, both in bed, eyes drooping and words slurred with sleep. You’re not sure when you fall asleep and you’re more unsure if you even hang up your call before you’re snoring.  

You end up going to his next game two days later against Winnipeg, where he scored once again and recorded two assists. After that performance, he continued to insist that you were his lucky charm, to which you laughed and brushed off the comment.

tag list: @reavenedges-lies​ @oilers2997​ (let me know if you wanted to be added!)

[msbarrows]

So about 7-ish years ago I did a post showing all the characters I had on Arkenstone server at that time (all 15 of them). Some server merges, new classes, and new races later, I’m currently up 33 of them on Arkenstone. Lengthy descriptions under the cut.

These include:

Beornings: Dynari - yes, just the one. I’ve never really gotten enough into this class to make a second (I think I maybe rolled one on one of my other servers, but that was one of a number of characters that wasn’t worth having to buy more character slots to transfer over when the merges happened)

Burglars: Abaninh, Bilba, and Magpye. Magpye was my original main character pre-Moria, and is still one of my higher level characters. Bilba was made because of a female Bilbo story @pibroch was writing, and still gets occasional play. Abaninh was created because female dwarves with correct pronouns AT LAST (I happily spent around a month fishing daily just to get her the Lady of Streams title). These days she mostly stands around looking pretty in the Bree craft hall, holding extra LIs for my level 100+ characters to use as melters.

Captains: Jerabor, Merrimor, and Miffy. I’ve had Miffy for ages, she’s one of my scholars, is one of my higher level characters, and still gets played fairy regularly. Merrimor and Jerabor are rarely played low level alts.

Champions: Greyscale, Helara, and Orri. Orri is the high level and still played a lot character in that bunch; he just recently made it to 100 and his embued LIs. Greyscale was made as a themed character - all his gear, mounts, and pets have a white-greys-blacks theme. Being a champ, he’s fun to play, and while currently languishing somewhere in his 30s, will probably see more leveling eventually. Helara is because I wanted a high elf champ, though she gets very little play because she and Greyscale are too close in levels atm.

Guardians: Boxe, Parrs, and Sofew. Sofew is one of my original characters but OMFG guardians are a PITA to level; they’re durable, but very low DPS, so sure they can take damage forever, but they pretty much need to when soloing since that’s approximately how long it takes them to kill anything anywhere near their level. There’s only two reasons she’s made it to high levels: the free Aria of the Valar from a preorder, and then wanting 10 more levels so she could get the goat mount from Erebor. Boxe was made specifically as a mule to hold and process ore, and all his levelling comes strictly from that (which has him in his high 30s, amusingly enough). Parrs was briefly played and is now a rep-clickie mule.

Lore-Masters: Feynriel, Leafwyn, and Yorista. Leafwyn is another original and high level character, and my main cook (like most crafting classes, I have several). Feynriel is based on the NPC of that name from DA2 and doesn’t get played much any more. Yorista I go on and off playing.

Minstrels: Elalhael and Nowt. Nowt is currently stalled because he’s getting less fun to solo the higher he gets; has his Rohan warsteed and might get as far as embued weapons, but unlikely to progress any further. Elalhael has been a scholar mule for years.

Rune-Keepers: Arimyn and Faragh. Faragh started off on a different server and is pretty much just a jeweller mule these days. Arimyn has been stalled at just pre-Moria for years (she at least quested her starter LIs before stalling). At some point I’ll get back around to her, because lightning from your fingertips, yo.

Hunters: My second favourite class, with Ceil, Gynn, Iztariani, Knarlie, Sebris, and Tisane. Iztariani I’ve had since pre-Moria and is currently kicking around the northern kingdoms. Ceil was levelling for a while because hunters are fun, but has stalled out in Isengard content because I feel more like levelling Knarlie, who is currently catching up fast (he’s into Lothlorien and later Moria, and should be hitting Mirkwood soonish). Gynn is my AH mule, Sebris is another jeweller mule, and Tisane is just resting on her laurels until I feel like doing more 30s/40s content on a hunter again.

Wardens: My one true class. I adore playing wardens. I used to have more, before the server merge, and still have one lingering on Landroval. These are Gnormen (sometimes scholar mule, sometimes adventurer), Kivrin (semi-retired in Enedwaith), Pantree (food mule and wearer of silly cosmetics), Rothruin (high elf, rarely played), Somany (main and highest level character, currently napping near Minas Morgul), Teasle (semi-retirned in early Rohan), and Vvardyn (rarely played alt).

[firstdegreefangirl]

Eddie Week Day Five: Eddie and His Idiot Husband

Word Count: 2291

Original Pub Date: 19 June 2020

Relationships: Eddie Diaz & Christopher Diaz, Eddie Diaz & Abuela

Author's Note: Me? Writing Christmas fic in June? More likely than you think.

Read on ao3 here

Usual suspects: @eddiediazweek @hearteyesforbuck @rebeccaofsbfarm @thisissirius @hearteyesforbuck @dramamineontopofme @twinien @meloingly @myemergence

It started out simply enough: Eddie was picking Buck up from the car dealership, taking him to lunch with Christopher while he waited on an oil change. As soon as Buck swung himself up into the truck seat, Chris started giggling.

“What? What’s so funny, little dude?” Buck turns around in the seat to watch him laughing, and Eddie looked up in the rearview mirror to see his son practically doubled over against his seatbelt.

“You-you guys are … you guys are TWINS!” He can hardly get the words out, but as soon as Eddie realizes what he’s said, he glances across the console at Buck

Sure enough, they’re both wearing blue jeans and the same T-shirt: plain black with the LAFD logo on the chest.

It’s an easy coincidence, especially given how many shirts they both have that are identical, city-issued for special events or fundraisers. They’re not technically uniform, but everyone wears them to work, so it only takes a few months to accumulate a pretty big collection.  

Eddie can see the moment when Buck realizes what’s happened, and he feels his heart swell at the way his face lights up.

“Well,” Buck exaggerates the way he winks at Eddie, makes sure Christopher can see the gesture, and looks to the backseat again. “One of us is going to have to change.”  

It happens again three weeks later, just a couple of days after they take Christopher to the aquarium.

(Eddie had tried to call it a “family day,” but he saw the way Buck squirmed at the notion of being part of a family, of having a family so unlike the one where he grew up, one that does things together, has special days and events for no particular reason.  

So he’d dropped it, but knows it’s something that will come up again later, something for them to work on as a family, even if they don’t call it that just yet.)

Because they are a family, and if it weren’t obvious enough, when the got through to the giftshop, Christopher had insisted on a set of three identical Stingray Bay T-shirts to commemorate the occasion. And neither of them have ever been able to tell him no, not for something as simple as that, so Buck had dropped a small fortune on them, insisted on paying after Eddie had bought the ice cream earlier in the day.  

Eddie knows he should have seen this coming, should have anticipated that Buck would show up wearing his stingray shirt on Tuesday when they met at the school to surprise Chris with lunch.  

Buck does this; every single time Christopher gives him something, he makes a point of showing it off, using it when he knows he’ll be able to see how much Buck loved the gift.

So Eddie should have known he’d pick today to debut the new shirt, should have planned ahead and picked something else, literally anything else, from his closet.  

Not that he doesn’t love the idea of matching clothes with Buck, but that he’d at least like to be a little bit more subtle about it than a pair of blue and grey tie-dye swirled T-shirts with bright yellow lettering and a cartoon stingray. He couldn’t possibly be happier than he is when he’s with Buck; the last year and a half have been the best of his life.  

But he’d rather show it off with the way they can't stop smiling when they’re together, the way they’re constantly touching, always seeking each other out. It’s a quieter, more honest demonstration of their relationship.  

But there’s not much he can do about it when he meets Buck out front of the building and they’re both wearing the shirts. It’s not like he has a closet in his truck with extra clothes, so all he can do is grin and bear it.  

It’s worth it though, for the way Buck pulls his sunglasses down and whistles as Eddie approaches.

“Nice shirt, babe. Where’d you get it?”  

“Just this place I know.” Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes. “My kid picked it out, and the hottest guy I’ve ever seen bought it for me.”  

“Oh, a hot guy? Should I be jealous?” Buck laughs and pulls the door open, settling his hand low on Eddie’s back as he kisses him gently and walks into the building.

“Only because I’m the one holding the French fries, and you know how Chris picks his favorite dad for the day.”

A month later, Eddie starts a massive load of laundry before he gets dressed for work, having put it off for long enough that he knows it’ll probably need two cycles in the dryer. Only after the machine had started filling with water did he realize that he hadn’t remembered to set aside the least-dirty shirt in the pile so he had something to wear into the station.  

Which leaves him scrambling to find a shirt, any shirt he can wear until he gets to work and puts his uniform on. There’s one left, stuck way at the back of his drawer.  

It’s the very epitome of a Laundry Day shirt, covered in garish black and white stripes. In one of his finer moments as a father, Eddie had let Christopher rope him into dressing up as a zebra for the station Halloween party so he could be a zookeeper.  

(There had been no need to rope Buck in. In fact, the whole thing had been Buck’s idea, after he’d gone with Chris on the field trip to the zoo and sat next to him while they watched the zebra feeding.)

The costume had been great, he has to admit. But as soon as the party was over, the shirt went to the back of the drawer, waiting for yardwork season.  

Or, laundry day.

Reluctantly, he pulls the shirt over his head and hopes that he’s running late enough to make it into the locker room before anyone sees him.  

But why would that go in his favor when nothing else this morning has? Eddie has just made it into the station when he collides with a black and white striped blur.

“What? Ed—” Buck steadies them both and looks Eddie up and down, checking for any injuries. “I leave you alone for one night, and you hardly make it to work on—”

Eddie watches his face as Buck realizes which shirt he’s wearing, and he’s sure it must match his own expression when he sees the same garment pulled taut across Buck’s chest.  

“—time.” Buck finishes, amusement shining in his eyes.

“Well maybe I wouldn’t be running late if someone hadn’t insisted on ‘saying goodbye’ before he went home last night.” Eddie raises an eyebrow and Buck flushes at the memory of how … thorough … his parting kiss had been. “Could’ve had the laundry in the machine last night, maybe even had a regular shirt to wear today.”  

“I’ll have you know that I happen to think this is an excellent shirt on you.” Buck runs his hand up Eddie’s torso to wrap his fingers over his shoulders.  

“Mm, there’s no way it looks better than yours does.” Eddie mirrors the gesture with a smirk. “You know my excuse; why’d you pick it out?”

He’s not sure what he’s expecting Buck to say, knows it’s nothing to do with seeing Chris since he’s at a sleepover after school tonight. But Buck still manages to surprise him when he shrugs, and responds like he’s saying the most obvious thing in the world.

“Couldn’t decide if I wanted to wear a white shirt or a black shirt today. So, both.” With his free hand, he waves up and down his body.

Eddie’s got a response all ready to go, is ready to watch the look on Buck’s face when he asks why he didn’t just split the difference and wear grey, but before he can say anything, Hen rounds the corner and bursts out laughing.

“OK,” She gasps out when she’s finally able to control her chuckles again. “Are you two only going to wear clothes from Christopher from now on? Because I’m telling you both, that is a mistake. He’s a cute kid, but the fashion doesn’t translate well to grown men.”  

Neither of them respond, and she walks away after a few moments, calling out for Chimney, who “isn’t going to believe what these idiots managed today!” Once she’s gone, they look at each other and smile.

“Laundry day?”

“Only way I was going to have a shirt for tomorrow that doesn’t have the style sense of a nine-year-old.”  

After that, the spell seems to be broken, whatever wardrobe-wavelength he and Buck were on shifted far enough that they’re dressing independently again.  

Before Eddie knows it, there’s a chill in the air – as much as there ever is in LA – and he and Buck are taking Christopher back to the mall to see Santa again.  

This year, there’s nothing stopping him from leaning against Buck while they wait in line, no reason for Buck not to tuck three of his fingers into the back pocket of Eddie’s jeans.  

While they’re waiting for Chris to come back out of the little cardboard village house, something catches Eddie’s eye in the window of the nearby department store. He turns to face Buck, putting just enough distance between them for Buck’s hand to drop back to his own side.  

“Hey, I’ll be right back. Long as that kid’s list is, you’ll still be waiting, but if not, meet you guys right here?”

“Sure.” Buck smiles, clearly unconcerned as Eddie walks away. He doesn’t waste any time, quickly finds what he’s looking for and waits in a miraculously short pre-Christmas line to check out and join Buck back in the winter wonderland.  

He sits the paper gift bag by their feet, rebuffs Buck’s attempts to find out what’s inside.

“Would you be patient?” But he’s smiling as he nudges Buck away from him. “You’ll find out in … 18 days.”  

“Fine.” Buck rolls his eyes. “But I’m not telling you what your present is either.”  

Eddie picks up a few other things along the way, loves nothing more than spoiling Buck when he has the chance, but there’s no gift he’s more excited about than the one from the mall. It had been such a hit last year that the 118 decides to celebrate en masse again, so he slips the presents into a large box and slides it into the bed of his truck before making sure Christopher's ready to go.

They make it through dinner and two rounds of presents before Eddie can’t wait any longer. When it’s Buck’s turn to unwrap something again, Eddie passes him a slim, flat package.

“Open this one. You’ve waited patiently enough.”

He watches closely as Buck peels away the paper and shakes the box to reveal a silk necktie the exact same color as his eyes. He beams at Eddie, then gasps and stands up in a hurry.

“Bobby! Eddie needs to open the next gift!”  

“Why? He gets to go again in two turns.” Bobby, ever the father figure, has been keeping track, making sure everything is handled diplomatically. Buck steps carefully through the children spread out in the middle of the floor, making his way across the room to whisper something in Bobby’s ear. His eyes widen as he considers whatever case it is that Buck’s making, and he nods. “Alright, I think we can make an exception just this once. Go get your present, son.”  

He bounds across the room and fishes a tiny, firecracker-shaped package from underneath the tree then tosses it to Eddie.

“Your turn, honeybunches.” The over-the-top pet name elicits eye rolls from around the room – Eddie included – and Buck grins as he settles himself back in the seat beside him.  

Eddie turns the present over in his hand, tries to figure out what Buck might have come up with that would be shaped like this. Finally, he gives up on trying to guess and just pulls the ribbon loose at one end, folds the wrapping back to reveal –

An identical blue necktie.

Maddie puts it together first, claps a hand over her mouth to muffle her delighted squeal.

“You bought me … your necktie?” Eddie holds it up, trying to gauge if they really are the same shade of blue.

“No. Well, yes, I did. But that wasn’t … I didn’t know you’d bought one for me. You just always look at things this color when we’re at the mall, so I figured you must like it.”  

“It’s my favorite color,” Eddie replies, his voice thick with quiet wonder. “It matches your eyes.”

On Maddie’s other side, Chimney leans in to stage-whisper, loud enough for the whole group to hear. “Gee, wonder why it’s his favorite. Could it be? Do you think? Nah …"  

She swats his arm and he yelps, but stops talking.

“Your favorite color … is my eyes?”  

“Yeah, they’re ... blue.” There are a million other thoughts going through Eddie’s head, moving so fast that he can’t pin any one of them down enough to elaborate.  

He looks up from the tie, stares into Buck’s eyes and marvels at how a ribbon of fabric was able to match the color so perfectly. As Christmas gifts go, a necktie is pretty unremarkable, but Eddie knows right away that he’ll treasure this one forever.

As the party goes on around them, Eddie’s mind wanders to the little velvet box in his pocket.  

Maybe just once, he and Buck can plan to coordinate their outfits, right down to matching neckties.