#my tolerance is low today i guess

[terrainofheartfelt]

If one more man pesters me in an email about shit that is NOT my job I swear to god

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[milo-is-rambling]

Truly it’s like if I make edibles I will eat them every day constantly until they’re gone like if I made edibles prepare for three to five days of me feeling like a ghost in my own body

[wake-me-up-inside-imagines]

Ok, I just read your sweet yandere post and would like to add something.

I love the idea of like a mafia boss yandere or someone who is usually cruel (like maybe a Hades sort of character) but is an absolute sweet heart to their darling. One of my fave tropes

OOOOOOH I LOVE THIS TROPE! I have a character who's just like this actually, a total sweetheart to whoever he's with but has a very low tolerance for most other people.

Sorry, this is a long one lol

I'm gonna make headcanons now because you've inspired me lol.

(Banner/divider credit goes to @cafekitsune)!

Tw: Kidnapping, mentions of violence

Mafia boss! Charlie who is no stranger to violence. He's lived his entire life surrounded by it, in fact. Having a mafia boss for a father will do that to you, he guesses.

Mafia boss! Charlie who's spent his whole life working for the mafia, being trained to kill, smuggle, and deal ever since he was a child. He grew up living a life of crime, rising up the ranks (thanks to his father), before taking over as the boss when his father was killed by an unruly client.

Mafia boss! Charlie who's a cruel, ruthless man. He's killed dozens of people, injured many more, and runs his organization with an iron fist. He may be young, but he's learned enough to know that any show of trust, any display of kindness is a show of weakness, a show of vulnerability. He can't afford that, not when he's the head of the mafia, so he makes sure to make it so that no one will question or challenge his authority by any means necessary.

Mafia boss! Charlie who has very few real friends, keeping those he does have at an arm's length. He'd rather die than admit that he craves real relationships, that he desires to make genuine, true connections with others. But he can't, so he pushes his wants to the side, reminding himself that his only purpose is to keep his business running smoothly, nothing more.

Until he sees you, that is.

Mafia boss! Charlie who meets you out on a grocery run one day. Your interaction is nothing special, at least to you, but Charlie can't help but marvel at how easily you make conversation with him while ringing up his items, how seemingly unfazed you are by his snappy attitude and unapproachable appearance. It's been a long, long time since he's met anyone unafraid of him, and those people are usually rivals who are too cocky for their own good. So this, this is new. He knows it's stupid, he knows that your tiny interaction shouldn't have mattered much to someone like him, but he can't help but feel giddy about the connection he's sure he felt.

Mafia boss! Charlie who, against his better judgment, wastes no time in trying to find out who you are. It's not hard, he has an entire organization full of trained trackers, stalkers, and informants at his disposal, and by the end of the day, he has your full name, address, social media accounts, family tree, medical records, and much more safely in his welcoming hands. He knows this is a bit overkill considering he only met you today and your interaction lasted five minutes at most, but now that he has a taste of real human interaction, he's addicted. He needs more.

Mafia boss! Charlie who quickly becomes awestruck and obsessed with you. His whole life, he's been surrounded by the craftiest, cruelest, most violent people imaginable, so to see someone, especially someone as precious as you, live a completely normal life, naive to the dangers he faces everyday? It's captivating! Of course, he can't follow you all day, he is a mafia boss after all, but he has enough people following you around and recording your every move that he doesn't need to! He's never been happier to be who his is than now.

Mafia boss! Charlie who thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world. You're a sweet little thing, too gentle and too unaware of the dangers around you for your own good. He loves everything about you, no matter how weird or embarrassing. He's content to watch you carefully for a couple months, but as time goes on, his need to feel our touch, to talk to you, to see you face to face is too much. He needs you. He needs you NOW. It doesn't help that you're so vulnerable and weak compared to him, with no knowledge of weaponry or stealth to keep you safe. What if someone were to try and hurt you? Of course, his goons wouldn't let that happen, not if they wanted to keep their organs, but he would feel so much better if he could keep an eye on you personally. Not to mention, every mafia boss needs a spouse, and some of his higher ranking associates have been hinting that it's about time he found someone...

Mafia boss! Charlie who immediately starts planning your "transfer" to his house, meticulously drafting out every last detail to secure your safety. He chooses his best, most skilled employees to carry out his plan, only the best for his darling, and sends them out to bring you "home". That day you come home from work, completely unaware of the people in your apartment, completely unaware of the sleeping pills dumped into your water while you weren't looking.

Mafia boss! Charlie who's ecstatic to finally have you with him, to finally have someone to hold, to talk to, to love. He brings your unconscious body to your new room, laying you softly on the bed while instructing his employees to pack up all your belongings and bring them to him. He doesn't tie you down or chain you up, he has enough security measures in place to make sure you won't be able to escape. You won't even be able to leave your room without him being notified.

Mafia boss! Charlie who watches the camera in your room as you wake up for the first time in your new home, confused and disoriented. All of your stuff is here, but this is NOT your apartment. Where are you? He watches as you start to freak out, guilt flashing through him for the first time in his life. He doesn't want you to be scared, he just wants to keep you safe!

Mafia boss! Charlie who sends one of his gentler employees into your room to explain everything, too afraid of scaring you even further by showing up himself. He waits a few days before revealing himself to you, when your terror has calmed down and you've become more familiar with your surroundings. He kind of just stands there, unable to formulate a sentence, which is extremely unnerving to you. You've been told you're to be married to a highly respected and violent mafia boss, and here he is, just...staring. When he opens his mouth to speak, your surprised at how soft his voice is, calmly explaining to you that you're safe, you won't be hurt. He reaches out his hand to touch you, but recoils when you flinch, not wanting to push you.

Mafia boss! Charlie who does everything he can to make you more comfortable and less afraid of him, getting you anything and everything you've ever shown interest in, giving you as much space as you need, and letting you roam the rather large house freely. All you can't do is leave. He doesn't understand why you're still so scared, sure he's a criminal, but he promised he would never hurt you!

Mafia boss! Charlie who gets more desperate for your love as time goes on. He starts appearing in whatever room your in, softly talking to you about his day or about whatever you're doing, trying to get you to be more comfortable with him. Once you've gotten used to that, he starting slowly initiating physical contact, holding you in his arms like he's never going to let you go (because he won't). He tried his hardest not to push your boundaries, but eventually his need to be near you becomes too great. Rest assured though, he would never, ever dream of hurting you or purposely scaring you.

Mafia boss! Charlie who can't get enough of the feeling of your skin on his. He starts hugging/cuddling you whenever he can, holding you like you'll break if he presses too hard. He's always near you, cuddling up to you while telling you about how much he loves you, adoration shining in his eyes. He's the clingiest at night though, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you fall asleep, him watching over you until he succumbs to his own tiredness. And his kisses? They are the softest, fluffiest thing you've ever felt. He cannot get enough of your lips, and he always kisses you passionately, like you'll disappear once he separates from you. With how loving and gentle he is, it doesn't take long for you to start loving him back.

Mafia boss! Charlie who starts giving you more privileges the farther you fall into stockholm. He'll even start taking you out in public on dates once he thinks there's no chance of you trying to escape him. He'd be able to find you if you did, he has many, many connections, but he trusts you won't. He loves going out with you and doing normal, coupley things with you, it's a nice break from his usual, violent life.

Mafia boss! Charlie who is insanely protective of you, never leaving you alone in a room with anyone except for himself. He knows how dangerous it is to be associated with him and now that he has you, he refuses to let anything happen to you. Any rival who attempts to hurt, kill, or kidnap you is met with Charlie himself, who enacts the most brutal, torturous death he can possibly think of on them. Nobody will come close to hurting you, he'll make sure of it. But no matter what happens, he'll always make sure you're far, far away from the violence. He never wants to subject you to the horrors he's seen (and done).

Mafia boss! Charlie who feels awful the first time you hear him raise his voice. It wasn't at you of course, he would never, ever think of yelling at his darling, you just happened to be in the room when he was meeting with one of his associates. It's scary seeing him yell, threatening brutal acts of violence on his own employee, and for the first time you realize how different he is with others than he is with you. He's quick to shut the meeting down once he realizes you're there, spending the rest of the night apologizing to you and assuring you he would never speak to you like that. This'll be the first time he truly opens up about what his job is like and why he has to be as cruel as he is, trying to help you understand why he behaved the way he did. It's difficult for him to make himself vulnerable, but he'd gladly to it if it meant easing your mind. From then on, he makes absolute sure you aren't around whenever he has to take care of business. He refuses to let you see him like that ever again.

Mafia boss! Charlie who never lets you forget how much he needs you in his life. You're the only thing keeping him from devolving into insanity, he wouldn't know how to handle himself if you were gone. He'll give you everything and anything if you listen to him and stay by his side, so please... please don't try to leave him.

Not that you would be able to, anyway.

[chunniwritesalot]

lessons with the hamiltons - lh44

in which reader is a teacher, but hates kids

HIII OKAY THIS IS JUST A SILLY LITTLE THING I STARTED AND THEN I COULDN'T STOP WRITING LMAO!! i might make a part 2 if someone asks! dont mind the no lewis header i have no time to make one hahah

cw: ksi's new song mentioned, cursing maybeeee, lewis being a bighead

wc: many

“I hate kids.” You huffed as you walked into the apartment you shared with your husband, kicking off your shoes with an aggressive thud. “Hate, hate, hate them.”

It was ironic, of course. Being a teacher meant you were surrounded by children all day, one of the few jobs where you were supposed to like them—or at least tolerate them. Good thing you were also an amazing actor, masking your exhaustion with a smile every time you stepped into that classroom.

Lewis looked up from his laptop, raising an eyebrow. “You’re a teacher,” he said, as if reminding you of the obvious. “You’re literally paid to not hate them.”

You rolled your eyes, tossing your bag onto the floor before flopping onto the couch beside him. “Yeah, yeah, thanks for the revelation, Captain Obvious. Match my freak for once, would you?”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “What does that even mean? Is that… new slang or something?” He tilted his head, genuinely curious but clearly out of his depth with your words.

“Yup, some of the kids started saying it,” you replied with a sigh, running your hands through your hair. “I guess I picked up on it without thinking.”

Lewis chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You teach 12 year olds. Doesn’t it freak you out a little to be adopting their slang?”

“Nah,” you said, leaning your head against his chest as he wrapped an arm around you. His warmth and the familiar scent of him—a mix of cologne and home—started to ease the tension you had carried through the door. “What freaks me out is how much I despise them today.”

He smiled at your melodramatic groan, rubbing small circles on your back. “What happened this time?”

“Everything. The noise, the constant whining, the way they somehow always know how to get under my skin. It's like they have a radar for it.” You shut your eyes, sinking deeper into the couch. “It’s exhausting pretending to like them.”

Lewis kissed the top of your head, his voice a little softer. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

You let out a long breath, feeling some of the weight lift. “I know,” you whispered. “Thank God for that.”

There was a brief moment of silence, the kind that lingered just long enough for Lewis to think you’d finally calmed down. Then you broke it with a frustrated huff.

“You know what I had to deal with today?” You asked, your voice rising with the exasperation that had been bubbling beneath the surface all evening. You didn’t wait for him to respond before launching into your story. “Two boys in my class—two—decided to break out into song right in the middle of my lesson.”

You paused for effect, locking eyes with him to emphasize the absurdity of it all. Lewis raised an eyebrow, already bracing himself for the punchline.

“And they wouldn’t shut the hell up, mate,” you finished with a dramatic flourish, throwing your hands up in frustration.

He let out a low chuckle, trying to keep a straight face. “What were they even singing?”

You groaned, sinking deeper into the couch. “Something ridiculous. Some TikTok trend or whatever, something about being on a screen and then a ring... Doesn’t matter, though—they were so off-key I couldn’t even tell what it was supposed to be.”

Lewis shook his head, biting back a smile. “And let me guess, they thought they were absolutely killing it?”

You shot him a look. “Oh, of course. They were acting like they were auditioning for a Broadway show. Hand gestures, facial expressions, the works. Like, I was just waiting for them to ask for a standing ovation.”

Lewis laughed outright at that, the sound of it making you feel a little less annoyed, though you’d never admit it. “And what did you do? Join in?”

You gave him a deadpan stare. “I kicked them both out of class.”

He snorted, covering his mouth to hide his amusement. “Classic. Just no patience left today, huh?”

“None.” You sighed, leaning back and closing your eyes, allowing yourself to relax for the first time all day. “Zero tolerance for teenage karaoke. I just wanted to get through my lesson without a circus.”

“Well, Mrs. Hamilton,” Lewis teased, emphasizing your formal title with an exaggeratedly prim tone. “I’m sure you handled it all with grace and professionalism.”

You let out a scoff, shooting him a sideways glance. “Yeah, if ‘grace and professionalism’ means nearly chucking a whiteboard marker at them, then sure.”

Lewis chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m sure you’re everyone’s favorite teacher,” he added, a grin tugging at his lips.

You snorted, throwing your head back against the couch dramatically. “Oh yeah, I can just feel the love. Nothing says ‘favorite teacher’ like the daily chorus of, ‘Can we go home early?’ or ‘Miss, this is so boring.’”

“They only say that because they can’t handle your brilliance,” Lewis quipped, giving you a knowing look. “You’re too much for their fragile little minds.”

“Oh, definitely. I’m just intellectually overwhelming,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes. “How could they ever appreciate my passion for algebra?”

Lewis burst out laughing, pulling you closer. “Exactly. They don’t even realize they’re sitting in the presence of greatness. Legends are never appreciated in their time.”

“Legend? Please,” you said, swatting him lightly. “If anything, I’m the stuff of nightmares. The teacher who ruined their dreams of becoming TikTok stars.”

“Hey, at least you’re memorable!” Lewis smirked, leaning in a little closer. “In 20 years, they’ll be telling their kids about the time Mrs. Hamilton shut down their music career before it even began.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Fantastic. I’ll be a cautionary tale.”

“Better than being forgotten,” he teased, raising his eyebrows. “Plus, you’re probably giving them some quality meme material. They’ll thank you later.”

You shot him an amused glare. “Oh, so that’s my legacy now? Being the ‘meme teacher’?”

“Hey, memes are forever,” Lewis said with a mischievous grin. “That’s practically immortal in today’s world.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his ridiculous logic. “I hate that you’re kind of right.”

Lewis leaned back, smug. “I’m always right.”

“You were just confused about slang 10 minutes ago,” you pointed out.

“Details, details,” he waved a hand dismissively. “The important thing is, your students secretly adore you. And if not, well…” He shrugged. “At least you’ve still got me.”

“Lucky me,” you muttered playfully, sinking back into his arms with a contented sigh.

“Hey, not everyone is in the presence of a seven-time Formula One World Champion!” Lewis shot back, puffing out his chest dramatically and poking your cheek for emphasis.

You groaned, shoving his hand away with a playful glare. “Your ego is huge, Lew. Like, it barely fits in this apartment.”

He smirked, unbothered. “What can I say? It’s all part of the package.”

“Oh, is that what it is? A package?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Well, I hope it comes with a refund policy because this ego is too much.”

Lewis laughed, pretending to think for a moment. “Nah, sorry, no returns. You’re stuck with me—and the ego. Non-refundable, no exchanges.”

You sighed dramatically, rolling your eyes. “Great. Just what I wanted. A husband and his oversized confidence.”

“Hey,” he said, feigning offense. “It’s not confidence. It’s facts.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Right. ‘Facts.’ I swear, if you had an award for every time you talked about your seven championships, we’d need a separate room just for the trophies.”

Lewis grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Funny you mention that. I was just thinking we could clear out the guest room and—”

“No,” you interrupted, giving him a playful shove. “Not happening.”

He chuckled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. “Fine, fine. But you can’t blame me for being proud. You did marry a legend, after all.”

You snorted. “A legend with an ego the size of a racetrack.”

“Hey, you’re the one who chose this life,” he teased, kissing the top of your head. “No refunds, remember?”

You sighed, leaning into him with a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Guess I’ll just have to live with it.”

“Sooo,” Lewis started, drawing the word out with that familiar grin you knew meant trouble. “Ever think of wanting… kids together?”

You blinked, then slowly turned to face him, squinting suspiciously. “Kids? Together? Us?”

Lewis grinned wider, leaning in. “Yeah, you know—tiny humans that look like us, say funny things, and maybe, just maybe, follow in my footsteps. Mini-Hamiltons.” He wiggled his eyebrows dramatically, clearly enjoying the moment.

You raised a hand to stop him. “First of all, you’ve clearly forgotten the part where I just said I hate kids. Secondly, tiny humans that are half you? Lewis, I barely manage one of you.”

He laughed, completely unfazed. “Come on, you love me. Imagine—little curly-haired kids running around, making you laugh, driving you crazy. It’s the dream.”

You snorted. “The nightmare, you mean. I already have to keep your ego in check. Now you want me to manage a whole pack of baby egos that think they’re Formula One drivers straight out of the womb?”

“Exactly,” Lewis teased, poking your side. “Imagine—little racers, pulling wheelies on their tricycles, practicing pit stops with toy cars. We’d be unstoppable.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “No. Absolutely not. I already see it—them racing in the house, breaking things, you teaching them how to do donuts in the living room.”

Lewis gave a mock shrug. “Well, they’d have to learn from the best, right? Legacy, babe. It’s all about legacy.”

You buried your face in your hands, laughing in disbelief. “A legacy of destruction. Fantastic. Let me just call the furniture store now and order everything in crash-proof material.”

Lewis leaned in closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. “Okay, but imagine this: family go-kart days, mini helmets with Hamilton written across the back, and you as the team principal. We’d be unstoppable.”

“Team principal?” you deadpanned, lifting your head from your hands. “Lewis, if I’m in charge, the first thing I’m doing is banning anything with wheels in this house.”

Lewis burst out laughing, pulling you into a hug. “Alright, alright, no go-karts in the living room… yet. But seriously, can’t you see it? You’d be an amazing mom.”

You paused, softening a bit as you looked up at him. “I don’t know, Lew. I mean, if our kids inherit your energy, we might need to hire a whole pit crew just to keep up with them.”

He grinned, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “That’s what makes it exciting. We’d make a great team.”

You sighed, half in amusement, half in surrender. “We’ll see. For now, let’s focus on surviving you, okay?”

“Deal,” Lewis said, laughing as he held you close. “But I’m telling you, one day, we’re gonna need matching family race suits.”

You groaned, but smiled. “God help me.”

-fin-

PLEASE SEND REQUESTSSSSSS IM BEGGING OMFGGG I'M FINALLY A LITTLE BIT FREE

[fuctacles]

<<5 | 6 | 7>>

The relief Eddie feels when Steve agrees to stay is almost like a drug itself. He still rolls a joint for each of them, of course. 

The movie is just as bad as Gareth promised, and Eddie finds himself looking at Steve almost as much as he does at the screen. With just a few puffs in, he's loose-limbed and relaxed, chuckling at the more ridiculous of the director's choices. It's a little terrifying that they know how blood looks from their own experience, but they try not to think about it right now. 

The movie is slowly coming to an end, when Eddie notices Steve's eyes drooping. He doesn't feel as tired himself, the adrenaline of their encounter fighting with his weed tolerance, but he imagines it took a lot of stress from Steve to come here. He's glad he could provide his friend with a safe space and comfort to finally relax. He plucks the almost finished joint out of his hand and Steve only blinks at him sleepily. 

"It's okay man, you can sleep here," Eddie reassures him while snuffing the joint out. "I can play you the end tomorrow."

Steve makes a noise that sounds like agreement and wraps the borrowed flannel shirt (double borrowed, since eons ago it used to be Wayne's) tighter around himself. 

Eddie watches him settle against the back of the couch and wonders what he can do to make this man feel loved and wanted. How he can overwrite whatever cruel thoughts the world has taught him. For now, all he can do is reach for the blanket on the back of the couch and hand it to Steve, who gratefully pulls it over himself. 

====

The memories of going to sleep are hazy, but slowly Eddie comes to while scratching the dog sleeping next to him. He hums in contentment, happy to wake up close to a warm body, even if it's just a pet. He nuzzles against its nape while scratching along its spine, his senses slowly clearing up. 

"I'm gonna go make breakfast," he says eventually. "I better see human Steve in the kitchen before I'm done."

Despite how cozy the bed is, he steps over the dog, whose tail pats loudly against the mattress. Eddie eyes him, unamused. 

"I'm serious. Only humans are getting scrambled eggs on my watch."

Twenty minutes later, he's happy to see Steve sitting at his kitchen table, dressed in the same sweatpants from last night. His chest is bare, but he'll let it slide this time. He picks up a mug from the cupboard. 

"How do you take your coffee, buddy?"

Both of them freeze. 

Eddie lets out an awkward cough, pouring coffee into the mug. 

"Sorry about that. Force of habit I guess. Uh, milk?"

"Yes, please." Steve nods so Eddie leaves enough space in the mug to pour in some milk. "No sugar."

Eddie nods, and he can feel Steve's stare on his back. 

"I don't mind," he says, and Eddie whips around to stare at him. "You calling me that. It's nice."

Eddie hums, adding milk to the coffee.

"Yeah?" He cocks his head, handing him the mug. "Here you go, buddy. Enjoy," he says and reaches out to scratch the back of Steve's head. 

He doesn't back down, even when he realizes what he's doing, and he can see that Steve reacts just as instinctually, leaning his head into the touch. But then he jolts away.

"Fuck, sorry."

Eddie frowns. 

"Don't be sorry. You're my friend, just like the dog. I can scratch you a bit."

Steve doesn't look convinced. He sips on his coffee to focus his attention elsewhere. 

"It's good, thank you," he says, licking his lips. "Shouldn't you be keeping an eye on the pan?"

"This conversation isn't over, Harrington!" Eddie declares, skipping back to the stove. Thankfully, he has a habit of making his eggs on a low fire so they turn out as creamy as possible. Scrambled eggs were the only thing in his life he was able to find patience for. 

"Any plans for today?" he asks later as he sets the plates for Steve and himself. He pours them both more coffee, remembering to add milk to Steve's. He smiles at him thankfully. 

"Not really," he shrugs. It looks like he's trying to find the right words without incriminating himself too much, so Eddie patiently waits for his next words. "All I've been doing lately is walking around the dog park, so..." he trails off.

He's implying that it's all been dog-Steve lately, human-Steve making no plans to hang out with his friends or go on dates. Eddie feels like it's his mission to change that. For whatever reason. 

"We could start preparing for the end-of-summer party," he offers. "Make a grocery list and shit and go shopping."

"It's almost a month from now," Steve points out.

"Good, plenty of time for planning."

Steve just stares at him over the rim of his mug. 

"Robin was going to help me," he says in the last-ditch attempt at being difficult. 

Eddie raises his palms.

"And I'm not stepping on her toes, but you gotta spread your friend circle a bit, man. The more the merrier."

Steve sips on his coffee, thinking about Eddie's offer. Eventually, he nods. 

"Okay. Do you have something to write on?"

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot

@dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86

[muiitoloko]

I’m sick with fever right now and I was thinking if you could write something about Alan’s character taking care of his partner? I don’t know which one but I need a rougher and older one to contrast with the fragility of his partner and to show him out of character? If you don’t want I totally understand.

Title: A Night of Softness.

Summary: On a cold, feverish night, Judge Turpin allows a moment of warmth to break through his stern exterior, holding his wife close as she drifts into sleep.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: None.

Author's Notes: Oh no, I hope you feel better soon! 😔 I totally get the need for some comforting care, especially from a rougher, older character who shows that soft side we don't see often. So, guess what? I’m going to write something with Judge Turpin taking care of his partner! There’s something about that contrast that makes it all the more heartwarming. Stay cozy, and I hope this story will be like a warm blanket for you! 🌟

Also read on Ao3

Judge Richard Turpin strode into the grand foyer of his opulent mansion, the sound of his boots echoing off the marble floors. He removed his hat with a swift motion, handing it to a waiting servant, while another immediately stepped forward to help him with his heavy coat. The household was well-trained, as expected, and no one dared speak unless spoken to first.

“Where is my wife?” Turpin asked, his baritone voice cold and commanding, though there was a hint of impatience in his tone. He had little tolerance for deviations from the expected order of things, and his wife’s absence from their usual evening routine was an unwelcome surprise.

The servants exchanged uneasy glances, hesitant to be the one to deliver potentially displeasing news. Finally, one of them, an older man with a bowed head, stepped forward. “Milord, the mistress is in bed,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “She has not been well today.”

Turpin’s expression darkened, his hazel eyes narrowing in suspicion. “In bed? At this hour?” he repeated, the edge in his voice sharper now. It was almost dinner time, and such behavior was unseemly for a woman of her station.

“Forgive me, milord,” the servant continued, clearly uncomfortable under Turpin’s stern gaze. “I attempted to summon the physician, but the mistress would not allow it.”

Turpin hummed to himself, a low, thoughtful sound that made the servants shift nervously on their feet. He was not a man known for his patience or his kindness, and the idea that his wife had refused medical attention both irritated and perplexed him. Without another word, he turned on his heel and began to ascend the grand staircase, his steps measured and deliberate.

As he approached the bedroom, the heavy wooden door creaked open at his touch. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn to block out the waning light of the day. The large four-poster bed dominated the room, its thick, luxurious curtains partially drawn, giving it an air of seclusion.

His gaze fell upon you, lying in the center of the bed, your form half-buried under layers of blankets. Your usually bright eyes were dull with fever, and your skin, normally so fair and delicate, was pale with an unhealthy hue. Even in your weakened state, you seemed startled by his presence, your breath catching in your throat as you looked up at him.

“Milord,” you murmured weakly, your voice a mere whisper of its usual self. “I… I didn’t expect you so soon."

Turpin’s lips pressed into a thin line as he moved closer to the bed, his tall figure looming over you. He said nothing at first, simply studying you with those piercing hazel eyes that always seemed to see more than they revealed. Finally, he reached out, his hand cool against your burning forehead.

“You’re feverish,” he stated flatly, though there was an undercurrent of something else in his tone—something that almost resembled concern, though he would never admit it. “Why did you refuse the doctor?”

You hesitated, uncertain of how to answer. It was true that you had always been somewhat fragile, prone to bouts of illness that left you weak and bedridden. But you had never wanted to appear weak in his eyes, never wanted to be a burden to him. You were still so unsure of your place in his life, still so afraid that he only kept you because it suited his needs.

“I… I didn’t want to trouble you, milord,” you finally said, averting your gaze from his intense scrutiny. “It’s just a slight fever. It will pass.”

Turpin’s hand tightened slightly on your shoulder, his fingers digging into the fabric of your nightgown. “You are my wife,” he said, his voice low and stern. “It is my responsibility to ensure your well-being. I will not have you ignoring your health out of some misguided sense of not wanting to trouble me.”

His words, though harsh, carried a weight that left you momentarily speechless. It was rare for him to show any hint of concern for you, and it left you feeling more vulnerable than you cared to admit.

“I am sorry, milord,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you dared to look up at him once more. “I did not mean to worry you.”

For a moment, Turpin simply stared down at you, his expression inscrutable. Then, much to your surprise, he began to unfasten his cufflinks, rolling up his sleeves with an air of determination. Without a word, he turned and crossed the room to where a basin of water sat on a side table. He dipped a cloth into the cool water, wringing it out before returning to your side.

You watched in stunned silence as he gently pressed the damp cloth to your forehead, the coolness of it a welcome relief against your feverish skin. The action was so out of character for him, so far removed from the stern, imposing figure you had grown accustomed to, that you could hardly believe it was real.

“Rest,” he commanded softly, his voice a deep rumble that was almost soothing. “I will not leave your side until you are well again.”

You blinked up at him, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. The tenderness in his touch, the quiet resolve in his voice, it was more than you had ever dared hope for. For the first time since your marriage, you felt a glimmer of something more than fear or uncertainty—a small, fragile hope that perhaps there was more to this man than the cold, calculating exterior he so often showed the world.

As you closed your eyes, allowing the cool cloth and his steady presence to lull you into a much-needed rest, you couldn’t help but wonder if, beneath all his cruelty and sternness, there was a part of him that truly cared for you—a part that, for tonight at least, was willing to show itself.

As you drifted into a feverish sleep, Turpin remained by your side, his stern gaze fixed upon you. The room was silent, save for the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth and the occasional rustle of the curtains as a breeze slipped through the cracks of the old mansion. His mind, usually occupied with matters of the court and his own ambitions, was now solely focused on you—a rare occurrence that even he found unsettling.

He stood there as he had promised, unmoving, watching the rise and fall of your chest beneath the blankets. His hazel eyes, sharp and calculating in the courtroom, now softened as they traced the delicate features of your face. The fever had drained the color from your cheeks, but to him, you were still beautiful—something he had never told you, nor ever thought to. He had always believed that such sentiments were unnecessary, a weakness that had no place in his life. Yet here he was, unable to look away.

His hand, usually so firm and unyielding, hesitated before reaching out to touch a lock of your hair that had fallen across your forehead. The strands were cool and soft between his fingers, and he twirled them absently, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He had never been one to show affection; it wasn’t in his nature. But there was something about the way you lay there, so vulnerable and fragile, that stirred an unfamiliar feeling within him—something that bordered on concern, though he would never admit it, not even to himself.

You murmured softly in your sleep, a faint sound that barely reached his ears, and he instinctively tightened his grip on the lock of hair, as if to reassure himself that you were still there, still breathing. The sight of you, so weakened and dependent on his care, made him uneasy. Turpin was a man accustomed to control, to power, and the thought that someone might actually rely on him, not out of fear but out of need, was a concept he had never fully grasped.

"Rest," he muttered under his breath, echoing the command he had given you earlier. His voice, even in this quiet moment, held its usual gruff authority, but there was a softness there as well—a reluctant tenderness that surprised even him.

He continued to play with your hair, his thoughts drifting to the last six months of your marriage. You had been little more than a pawn in his life, someone to fulfill the societal expectations of a man in his position. He had married you out of convenience, and perhaps a desire to possess something beautiful, something pure in his otherwise dark and corrupt world. But as he stood there, watching over you in your most vulnerable state, he couldn’t deny that you had become more to him than just a possession.

You stirred again, your fevered brow furrowing slightly, and he placed the cloth back on your forehead, his touch surprisingly gentle. It was a strange thing, this care he was giving you. He had always seen himself as a man above such sentiments, a man who took what he wanted and discarded what no longer served him. But with you, it was different. You were different.

His thoughts darkened as he considered how little you knew of his true nature, how little you understood the man you had married. There was cruelty in him, a deep-seated malice that had shaped his life and his decisions. He was a man of power, a judge who had condemned countless souls to their fates without a second thought. He was feared, hated even, by those who knew him, and yet here you were, lying so trustingly in his bed, under his care.

Turpin’s grip on your hair loosened as he let out a long, measured breath. He knew he wasn’t a good man—he had never pretended to be. But for some reason, the idea of you seeing him as anything other than your protector, your husband, unsettled him. He had never cared about anyone’s opinion of him before, yet with you, it was different. The thought of you fearing him, of you seeing the darkness within him, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He withdrew his hand, letting the lock of hair fall back onto the pillow. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he straightened, his expression hardening. There was no place for softness in his life, no place for the kind of care he was showing you now. And yet, as he turned to leave the room, he found himself hesitating at the door, glancing back at you one last time.

“Sleep well, my wife,” he whispered, the words barely audible, as if he were ashamed of them.

And with that, Judge Richard Turpin left the room, the door closing softly behind him. In the quiet solitude of his grand mansion, he allowed himself to care—just this once. Because even a man as cold and cruel as Turpin could not entirely extinguish the small flicker of warmth that your presence had ignited within him.

Turpin descended the grand staircase of his opulent mansion, his mind still occupied with the image of you lying feverish in the bed upstairs. The cool marble beneath his boots was a stark contrast to the warmth of your skin that lingered on his fingertips. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, the flickering candlelight cast long, ominous shadows against the ornate walls, giving the mansion an eerie, almost foreboding atmosphere.

Turpin’s expression hardened as he made his way through the dimly lit corridors, his sharp hazel eyes narrowing with renewed focus. The brief moment of tenderness he had shown upstairs was an anomaly, one he intended to swiftly bury beneath the weight of his usual demeanor. There was no room for weakness in his life, no place for sentimentality. He was a man of power, of control, and he would not allow himself to be swayed by fleeting emotions.

Reaching the servant’s quarters, Turpin’s presence was immediately noted by the staff, who scrambled to stand at attention, their eyes cast downward in a display of submission. He surveyed them with a cold, calculating gaze, his hooked nose casting a long shadow across his face. The silence in the room was suffocating, broken only by the crackling of the fireplace.

"Prepare a vegetable soup," Turpin commanded, his baritone voice cutting through the air like a knife. There was no kindness in his tone, only the strict expectation that his orders would be followed without question. "It is to be brought to the mistress’s room in one hour. Ensure it is hot and well-prepared. I will not tolerate any mistakes."

The servants nodded quickly, their heads bobbing in unison like frightened animals. "Yes, milord," one of them managed to stammer, her voice trembling under his withering gaze.

Turpin’s lip curled in disdain as he dismissed them with a wave of his hand, the gesture sharp and final. "Go," he barked, his voice laced with impatience. "Do not waste my time with your idle chatter. And be silent when you deliver it—she needs rest, not your simpering voices."

The servants scurried away, eager to carry out his orders and avoid further ire. Turpin watched them go, his expression one of cold satisfaction. He had no tolerance for incompetence, especially not in his own household. He expected nothing less than perfection from those under his command, and he had long since trained his staff to fear the consequences of failure.

With the matter settled, Turpin turned on his heel and made his way toward his office. The echo of his footsteps filled the empty hallways, a sound that had long since become synonymous with his presence in the mansion. His office was a place of solitude, a sanctuary where he could immerse himself in his work and shut out the world. It was here that he plotted and schemed, where he wielded his power like a weapon, ensuring that all who crossed him would come to regret it.

The heavy wooden door to his office creaked as he pushed it open, the dark mahogany panels gleaming in the firelight. He stepped inside, the scent of leather and aged parchment filling his senses as he closed the door behind him, sealing himself off from the rest of the mansion.

Turpin crossed the room, his hand brushing against the rows of leather-bound books that lined the walls. These books contained the knowledge and the power that he had amassed over the years, a testament to his cunning and ruthlessness. He pulled out a chair from behind his imposing desk and sat down, the leather creaking softly under his weight.

As he settled into his chair, his thoughts drifted back to you, lying weak and feverish in the bed upstairs. The memory of your soft, flushed skin and the sound of your labored breathing stirred something dark within him, a desire that he had kept tightly controlled, yet one that threatened to break free.

Turpin’s fingers drummed against the surface of the desk as he considered the irony of it all—here you were, so fragile and delicate, dependent on his care, yet entirely unaware of the depths of his cruelty, of the twisted thoughts that lurked behind his stern exterior. You saw him as a protector, perhaps even as a husband who might care for you, but in truth, he was far more complicated than that.

The power he wielded over you, over everyone in his life, was intoxicating, and it pleased him to see how easily you had submitted to his authority. You were his wife in name, but in reality, you were his possession, a beautiful object that he could mold and control as he saw fit. The thought sent a thrill down his spine, and he leaned back in his chair, a dark smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

But there was something else too, something that gnawed at the edges of his thoughts—a need for something more, something that went beyond mere control. The way you had looked up at him earlier, your eyes filled with fear and uncertainty, had stirred a desire in him that he had not felt in a long time—a desire not just to possess you, but to break you, to see you fully submit to him in every way.

He imagined you again, lying in that bed, but this time, it was not illness that weakened you, but him. You would look up at him with those same fearful eyes, your body trembling under his touch, as he took what he wanted, what he believed was rightfully his. The thought of it sent a wave of heat through him, and he could feel his control slipping, his mind drifting into darker, more forbidden territories.

Turpin’s breath quickened as he considered the possibilities, his hand tightening around the armrest of his chair. He knew he should suppress these thoughts, should focus on his work, but the temptation was too strong, too alluring to resist. You were upstairs, weak and vulnerable, completely at his mercy, and the idea of taking advantage of that vulnerability was intoxicating.

He rose from his chair, his movements deliberate, as if each step required a conscious effort to suppress the darker impulses that urged him forward. He exited the office, the heavy door creaking as it closed behind him, and made his way back upstairs to the bedroom. The corridors were silent, the only sound the soft padding of his boots against the thick carpets that lined the floors.

When he reached the bedroom door, he paused, his hand resting on the doorknob as he took a deep breath. He had come here with the intention of taking advantage of your weakened state, to claim what he believed was his by right. Yet now, as he stood on the threshold, something gave him pause. A part of him—a small, buried part—whispered that this was not the way, that he was about to cross a line from which there would be no return.

He opened the door slowly, the hinges creaking softly as he stepped inside. The room was just as he had left it, dimly lit and quiet, with only the soft rustle of the curtains and the faint crackle of the fire breaking the silence. You were still asleep, your breathing shallow and even, the cool cloth he had placed on your forehead still in place.

Turpin approached the bed, his footsteps soundless on the thick carpet. He stood over you for a moment, his hazel eyes tracing the delicate lines of your face, the way your lashes fluttered slightly against your flushed cheeks. You were so peaceful, so vulnerable in your sleep, and the sight of you stirred something deep within him—a protectiveness that was at odds with the darker desires that had driven him here.

Slowly, he reached out and took hold of the edge of the blanket, gently pulling it back to reveal your form beneath. You were dressed in a simple nightgown, the fabric clinging to your feverish skin, and the sight of you like this—so soft, so helpless—made his breath hitch in his throat.

He hesitated, his hand hovering above your chest, the warmth of your body radiating up to meet his cool fingers. His intention had been clear when he first entered the room, but now, as he stood there, the reality of what he was about to do washed over him like a cold wave. You stirred slightly in your sleep, a soft sigh escaping your lips, and he felt a pang of guilt pierce his heart.

Turpin���s hand trembled as he lowered it to your throat, his fingers lightly tracing the delicate line of your collarbone. The touch was gentle, almost reverent, and it was enough to wake you from your fevered slumber. Your eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused at first, before they slowly came into focus on his face.

“Richard?” you murmured, your voice weak and confused as you looked up at him, your brows furrowing slightly in concern.

Turpin froze, the sound of his name on your lips jolting him back to reality. For a moment, he couldn’t speak, his breath caught in his throat as he stared down at you, his hand still resting lightly against your throat. He had come here with every intention of taking advantage of you, yet now, as you looked up at him with those wide, trusting eyes, he found that he couldn’t go through with it.

“Shh,” he finally whispered, his voice rough and strained as he pulled his hand away from your throat, the touch lingering longer than he had intended. “Go back to sleep.”

You blinked up at him, your expression softening as you realized who he was. “Richard… I… I was dreaming,” you mumbled, your voice still thick with sleep as you reached up to touch his hand, the gesture weak but full of trust. “Are you… are you staying?”

Turpin hesitated, his mind racing as he tried to reconcile the conflicting emotions within him. He had never been a man who showed kindness easily, yet something about the way you looked at him now, with such vulnerability, made it impossible for him to refuse.

“I’m here,” he said gruffly, his tone rougher than he intended as he gently pushed your hand back down to your side. “Now, rest.”

You nodded weakly, the tension in your body easing as you let out a soft sigh. “Thank you, Richard,” you whispered.

Turpin stood there for a moment longer, his hand hovering above your head as if uncertain whether to touch you again or pull away. Finally, he reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead, the motion careful and deliberate. He had never been one to show affection, but for some reason, this small gesture felt right.

You kept looking at him, your feverish eyes fixed on his stern face, searching for something that you couldn’t quite name. Turpin, ever the gruff and stoic man, shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. His hazel eyes, usually so sharp and unyielding, flickered with irritation as he glanced away, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Close your eyes and sleep,” he grumbled, his tone laced with impatience. “You need rest.”

You didn’t respond immediately, still watching him as if trying to decipher a puzzle. There was a strange vulnerability in your gaze, one that made him feel uneasy, as though you were peeling back layers of his carefully constructed armor with just a look.

“I don’t want to sleep,” you whispered after a moment, your voice soft but determined. The usual hesitance was gone, replaced by a quiet resolve. “Not anymore.”

Turpin’s brow furrowed at your words, and he turned back to you with a frown. “What nonsense is this?” he muttered, his tone harsher than intended. “You’re ill. Sleep is what you need.”

You hesitated, biting your lower lip as you considered your next words. There was something about this moment, something fragile and fleeting, that made you want to reach out to him in a way you had never dared before. Perhaps it was the fever that emboldened you, or perhaps it was the sight of him sitting there, rigid and uncomfortable, yet not leaving your side, that made you feel braver than usual.

“Richard…” you began, your voice trembling slightly as you looked down at your hands, wringing them nervously in your lap. “Could we… could we cuddle? Just for a little while?”

Turpin stiffened at your request, his eyes widening in surprise before narrowing into a glare. “No,” he replied flatly, his voice brooking no argument as he crossed his arms even tighter against his chest. “That’s out of the question.���

You nodded, but your gaze didn’t drop. Instead, you scooted closer to him on the bed, ignoring the way his eyes flashed with irritation as you did so. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you knew you were being bold—recklessly so—but there was a need within you, a desperate longing for comfort that you couldn’t suppress.

Before Turpin could react, you reached out and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tentative hug. He froze instantly, his body going rigid beneath your touch, as though the very idea of such an embrace was utterly foreign to him. And perhaps it was, for you had never done this before, had never even thought to. But the need for closeness, for warmth, was stronger than the fear of his reaction.

For a long, tense moment, Turpin didn’t move. He sat there, stiff as a board, his hazel eyes wide with shock, staring down at the top of your head where it rested against his chest. His mind raced, trying to process what was happening, trying to reconcile this unexpected display of affection with the cold, controlled life he had always led.

“W-What are you doing?” he finally stammered, his baritone voice uncharacteristically shaky.

You didn’t answer immediately, your grip on him tightening just slightly as you buried your face against the coarse fabric of his vest. You felt his heartbeat beneath your cheek, strong and steady, and it brought you a strange sense of comfort, as though in that moment, the world beyond this room didn’t exist.

“I just needed… some comfort,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his chest. “Just for a little while.”

Turpin blinked, utterly bewildered by your words. Comfort? It was a concept so alien to him, so far removed from the cold, calculated existence he had built for himself, that he didn’t know how to respond. He had never been one for physical affection, had never seen the point of it, and yet here you were, clinging to him like he was some kind of lifeline.

He opened his mouth to protest, to tell you to let go, but the words died on his lips as he felt the slight tremor in your body. It wasn’t just the fever that made you shake; it was something more, something deeper. And for reasons he couldn’t quite understand, that realization softened something inside him.

With a reluctant sigh, Turpin slowly, almost awkwardly, brought his arms down from his chest and placed them around you, his movements stiff and uncertain. He had never done this before, had never held someone like this, and it felt strange—both uncomfortable and oddly reassuring at the same time.

“There,” he muttered gruffly, his voice lacking its usual edge. “But just for a little while.”

You smiled against his chest, the small victory warming you more than any blanket could. His embrace was far from tender, but it was enough. It was more than you had ever expected from him, and in that moment, it was everything.

Turpin, for his part, remained silent, his eyes staring straight ahead as he tried to ignore the strange, fluttering sensation in his chest. He told himself this was just a temporary indulgence, that he was simply allowing you to calm yourself so that you could get the rest you needed. But as the minutes ticked by, and your breathing grew slow and even against him, he found that he didn’t mind it as much as he thought he would.

“Go to sleep,” he whispered, his voice softening despite himself.

You didn’t answer—your breathing had already evened out, and Turpin realized with a start that you had fallen asleep in his arms. He looked down at you, his expression softening as he took in the peaceful look on your face, the way your body had relaxed completely against him.

“Foolish girl,” he murmured, though there was no malice in his words, only a kind of reluctant affection that he didn’t quite know what to do with.

For a long time, Turpin remained there, holding you in the dim light of the room, his stern demeanor giving way to a strange, unfamiliar warmth. He knew that when morning came, he would return to his usual self—distant, cold, and unyielding. But for tonight, he allowed himself this small moment of softness, this brief indulgence in something he had long denied himself.

Because even the grumpiest of old men, it seemed, could not entirely resist the simple comfort of holding someone close.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

Potential TW ::: Difficulty conceiving. & for my vomit-sensitive friends, here's a mildly changed version: PUKE FREE EDIT

A/N ::: I am so tired tonight that this was not super proofed. This was an ask that came via my messages. They wanted a story with the spicy and the sweet parts of Kats & F.reader tryin' for a baby. I hope it has all the elements you wanted and that you like it!

C/W ::: Aged up Kats x f.reader, several mentions of vomiting & other facial fluids being discharged (snot, tears, puke). Oral M->F Quite a bit of P->V. Lovey dovey stuff, sweet moments between 2 people who just want a freakin' baby. Ok? 😭

WC ::: 4,923 (Jesus christ, I'm so sorry. This totally got away from me and I don't even know how.)

"Hey babe, it's me." Katsuki said in his usual growly voice. "I guess you're still at work or somethin'. Anyway, I'll be home tomorrow night. Also, I'been holdin' back. So, be ready for me. I love you, call me if ya want."

Katsuki was out of town on a job. He's been gone for almost a week now, the longest you two have been apart since you got married, almost 2 years ago. You missed him, sure. But when he came home, stomping through the entryway, yelling for you, it was the best feeling to be wrapped up in his arms and smooshed into his chest.

The two of you have been leaving yourselves open to having a baby for about 4 months now. It hasn't been constant trying, but the longer it goes that you're not getting pregnant, the more you feel like you're needing to take this more seriously. You started reading up on the most productive positions to get the result you're looking for, studying what you can do before and after you do the deed. How to check your basal temperature. When doctor intervention becomes more than a discussion and an absolute necessity.

The phone beeps, alerting you to your missed call and voicemail. "What ... oh, damn it." You listen to the message Katsuki left you and couldn't help the soft pink blush that spread over your face and chest. No man had ever made you feel the way he has. You had been pretty reserved until he helped you tap into your inner slutty girl. It sounds bad, but you've not looked back once since he brought you out of your little sexual shell. And why should you? Every time you're with him you swear it's the best sex you've ever had. Point being, you got really lucky to have him love you and be able to love him.

Pushing #1 on speed dial, you hear the other line ringing and start praying to whatever gods would listen to you that he'd answer his phone.

"Hey brat. Y'ignorin' me now or some shit like that? The fuck ya think ya are?" You could hear him choke out a laugh. The background noise was almost louder than he was.

"You know it, you caught me. Trying to ignore you. What're you gonna do about it?" You giggled when you heard his breath hitch in his throat. Your voice got low and breathy, "You gonna punish me, hm? Good luck catching me, Kats."

The phone crackled a few times before you heard him, "Hey! Y'there? Babe!? Goddamn it, this shit ass fuc---" and then you heard nothing.

"K-Kats? Hello? Are you ... are you there? Oh." You tossed the phone on the couch and pouted. "Things were just about to get good, too." You whined to the cat. But you knew they didn't care. They were Kats' anyway. They merely tolerated you until they were hungry and then they were your biggest fan.

A chime rang out into the quiet room and you pounced on it. A text from Katsuki, "Sorry, shit reception here. I'll try to call you from the hotel later. XXX"

It was about 6pm. Too early for bed, too late to go anywhere. So you curled up on the couch and watched your wedding video. You laughed and cried about how stupid you felt for missing him so much. He's only been gone a week and he'll be home tomorrow. Less than 24 hours and you would be together again.

You woke up to the sun forcing its way through the edges of the window coverings. "He's coming home today! He ... is finally coming home today!" A contented sigh heaved its way from your chest as you stood and stretched the uncomfortable position you slept in from your body. And then immediately a wave of nausea washed over you. "The f-," you covered your mouth and ran to the bathroom. Lifting the toilet lid, you took pause and started praying that you wouldn't puke. "Mmm ..." Your eyes roamed to the bathroom cupboard. The nausea faded and soon your body followed your eyes' lead and you started to crawl to open the door and pull out a pregnancy test.

You peed on the plastic receptacle and set the timer you'd bought specially for the bathroom, only to hurry up and wait for the next 3 minutes.

"Oh." You tried so hard not to let yourself get wrapped up in the hope that all of your fun and hard work had finally paid off. But it still hurt. It always hurt. It was a relief though, that Katsuki wasn't here to have to go through this again. He always somehow got more excited than you at the prospect of you becoming parents. 'There's plenty uh’time, ma,' he always says to you whenever the result is another negative.

It would be several hours before he'd be home, so you put yourself together and set out to grocery shop. You decided to stop by your favorite little boutique and look around at the lingerie. Maybe that would help cheer you up and raise moral to romp around with your husband. You laughed at the stupid thought. It was always fun to be with Katsuki.

You managed to knock all of your tasks out in a couple of hours and drove home to get stuff put away. You still wanted to shower, put on the new lingerie you bought and figure out what to do for dinner. Take-out was calling your name tonight.

In the shower, you started to think about how much you loved Katsuki. And a familiar, warm, tingly feeling started to bloom in the pit of your stomach. Unconsciously, you began rubbing your thighs together trying to alleviate the pressure - however pleasant it might be - building there. It was a dangerous game you were playing here. If you rubbed them too much, you know you'd get beyond frustrated and have to take care of this on your own. And there was nothing you wanted more than for him to be the one to alleviate this pent up tension in your body. Seeing as he was the one causing it, it only seemed fair.

Hurrying to finish washing up, you managed to get out of there with only a little bit of lingering agitation. Perhaps agitation was too strong a word. But you missed him so much there was no other word you could think of to replace it.

All wrapped up in a towel, you went to your room and looked over the clothes you had laid out for tonight. The dress you chose was newer, you picked it up a month or so ago, but haven't had the chance to wear it. It’s so new that he hasn't even seen it on you. The lingerie was a strappy black 1 piece and it looked so confusing to you. But you wanted to look nice for him. You knew he would love it for the whole 30 seconds it was on you before he tore it off. Yet you couldn't help but feel a little bit nervous about his homecoming.

It all felt so new to you for some strange reason.

His Jeep pulled into the driveway and your heart all but stopped beating. Your face got hot and you felt like you were going to puke again. "Jesus, calm yourself, y/n. You're married for Christ's sake. Have been for over 2 years. He is your husband. He already loves you." But you didn't believe a word you said to yourself.

You ran to the bedroom to take one last quick glance at your appearance. Smoothing down the dress at your stomach, you noticed it didn't sit quite like it did when you first bought it. You just chalked it up to a little bit of stress eating with Katsuki being gone, and you trying to stay cool about (not) getting pregnant. It just caught up to you. No matter. He's home.

The front door opened and you heard his heavy footsteps. Music to your ears. "Babe? 'M home. Get yer ass ov-", You peeked your head out of the bedroom and gave him a sassy smile. "There you are, fuck, missed you so much. Don't move." He tossed his keys onto the kitchen table and walked toward you like he was hunting you. Like if he moved to quickly you'd get startled and run away from him. Little did he know that it would take a lot more than him running at you to make you even flinch.

"I missed you too, Kats. So much." You whispered as he got closer. He reached out for you and pulled you flush against him, his mouth immediately finding yours. His lips were so soft and warm and he smelled so good. You couldn't resist the urge to kiss him deeper, and you let your tongue brush his bottom lip. He growled and held you tighter.

"Fuck, y’taste so good. Yer gonna kill me. I can't wait for you any longer. All of you. Every part of you." He kissed your cheek and then your ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth and tugging on it with his teeth. You moaned and ground your hips into his. The sensation of his hardness rubbing against you made you ache with need.

"Oh God. Please. I need you so much." Every brush of his fingers against your body left a trail of raised, peach fuzz hairs in their wake. You were panting now, trying to catch your breath from his lips on your skin. He pulled back and looked at you, his eyes shining with love and lust. "I love you so much, babe."

"I love you too, Katsuki." Your voice was breathy and quiet, almost like you were afraid to say it.

He leaned in and kissed you again, this time with more heat and intensity. His hands found their way to your ass and he squeezed, eliciting a whimper from your lips. "Let's go to bed." He grabbed your hand and led you to the bedroom.

You walked in and he pushed you onto the bed. You squealed and giggled as you bounced. He stood over you and started to unbutton his shirt. His abs and pecs were on display for you. You couldn't help but lick your lips at the sight of his muscles moving as he shrugged his shirt off his shoulders. He moved to unbuckle his belt and you got a little nervous. He was so hot and you felt like you couldn't keep up with him. But he always managed to make you feel like the most beautiful woman on earth.

As he took his pants off, you got up and stood in front of him so he could unzip the dress. "You make this dress look so fuckin' beautiful, babe. Goddamn. So sexy. But y'know, 's much as I love this, 'm dying to see what's underne- Hoh fuck. Th- you- fuck that's hot. This new?" He asked as he covered his mouth with his right hand and shook his head slowly.

"You like it?" You blushed hard.

"Do I fuckin' like it. C'mere. Fuckin' c'mere and I'll show you just how much I like it." He pulled you close and kissed your lips, your neck, your chest. You could feel him hard and throbbing against your lower stomach. It was driving you wild.

He turned you around and began to kiss your shoulders. He moved the straps of the lingerie down and bit your skin gently. "Ah! Katsuki, please. Please touch me. I need you."

"Patience. G’na take my time with you. Got about 6 days to make up for, darlin'. Lemme have this. Lemme have you."

He turned you back around and kissed you deeply. He held you close and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. "I am so glad you're home, Kats." You whispered while you pulled him to the bed.

You laid there and let him take over, let him do what he wanted. And what he wanted was to drive you crazy. He kissed every inch of your body, making sure to pay extra attention to your most sensitive parts.

"You work out this week or somethin'?" He asked between kissing your hot skin. He moved down to your belly. "Fuck, you're just so ..." he growled against your skin as he breathed you in. "Your tits look fantastic. You're so ... gah ... I dunno. You're just so soft." He ran his hands over your curves and squeezed your hips.

You pulled his hair and guided him to your core. "Katsuki, need ... need your mouth." He obliged and licked a stripe up your slit, his tongue pressing firmly against your clit and you jumped back. "Hohmygod, Kats! Fuck!!"

"S'sensitive for me," he dove back in and started to suck on your clit, swirling his tongue around it and then flattening it and moving it side to side, "Fumkin' lub et." You felt like you were going to burst. The feeling was overwhelming and you felt yourself get close to the edge faster than you could ever remember.

"Katsu- kugh, ohmygod, I'm gonna ... I'm gonna ..." You grabbed his head and pushed him further into you. He moaned and his hands dug into your thighs as he kept working your swollen cunt.

"Cum for me, baby. Show me how fuckin’ hard y’can cum for me. Lemme see that pretty pussy cum for me." He moved back down and started sucking and licking your clit again, his fingers sliding inside you and hitting that spot you love so much.

Your whole body tensed up and you felt yourself explode all over his fingers and tongue. "Katsuki!!!" You screamed and bucked your hips against his face, chasing your orgasm. You could feel him smiling against your skin as you rode out your pleasure against his face and hands. You didn't know what you were rubbing yourself against but there was no part of you that could stop it from happening.

"G'girl. Fuck, you taste s'good, babe. Kinda diff’rent. More tart. Lemony." He kissed your thigh and then crawled up to kiss you. "Gonna fuck a baby into you now." He smiled down at you, much more sweetly than his intentions actually were and held your legs open so he could slide himself inside you.

"Mmmm, yes ... please, want you … in me." You whined as he started to push himself in. He was big, you were used to it. But tonight you needed a minute or two to adjust to his size. It felt like you were clenching down on him, almost purposely. Making it more difficult for him to push himself entirely inside of you. 

"Jesus fuck, you sure you weren't doing some pussy push-ups r'somethin'? You're so tight, babe. Feels so fuckin' good. But … Jesus."

You couldn't control your laughter at him calling kegel exercises 'pussy push-ups'. It was so stupid, but it made you feel warm and loved that he cared enough to notice things like that. "I've been practicing, yeah." You smirked and he leaned in and kissed you again.

"Good. So fuckin' good. Now, g'na fuck you 'til you can't stand it. I'm gonna cum in that hot pussy and make you the sexiest ma on the face of the planet." He growled against your lips as he started to move inside you.

You lost track of time and your body just reacted to him. He was rough and tender. Everything you needed and more. The two of you singing this song of moans in unison sounded better than any of your favorite songs ever had. His grunts and growls filled the room, as he fucked you harder and harder, so too, did your moaning and muttering of how good he felt get louder.

"Kats ... gonna cum again. Pleasepleaseplease ... you gotta cum first! It w- oh god - it works better if you cum first ... I think! Hurry up!" You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him deeper into you. You could feel your walls tightening and pulsating around his cock and it was the most exquisite feeling.

"Bah, fuck, I'm close babe. Gonna fill you up so good. Fuck, gonna fill you up with my cum." He grabbed your legs and pushed them back so your knees were against your chest and your ankles were at his ears. He held onto the back of your legs and pounded into you with all the strength he had left in him.

"Yesyesyes! Katsuki! Cum in me!" You were on the edge of your orgasm and you couldn't hold it at bay any longer. You felt the hot wetness of his seed filling you up and you let yourself go, your pussy clenched around his cock.

He stayed inside you for a minute or two, panting and kissing your forehead. Droplets of sweat fell from his face to yours. It was disgustingly intimate. You had never felt closer to him. Physically or emotionally.

"I love you." He whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

"I love you." You whispered back.

And with that, he rolled off of you and snuggled up against your back, his hand resting on your stomach. The two of you fell asleep a short time later. Still happily tangled up in one another.

The next morning you awoke to Katsuki gently rolling his cock against your ass. You turned your head as best you could to see him, but when you managed to, you saw that he was still fast asleep. It didn't diminish the arousal that began to creep its way through your body, though.

You rolled over and kissed his face, whispering sweet nothings to him as you tried to wake him. "Kaaats, you wanna go again?" Running your hand down his chest and stomach, stopping about halfway down his happy trail, he opened his eyes slowly and gave you a half smile that looked so sexy on him.

"Mornin' babe. Wha' was I doin'?" He asked, looking down at his erection. "Ah. Was havin' a really ... really good dream 'bout you. Wan' me to show ya what we were doin'?" He flopped onto his back and pulled you on top of him so you were straddling his waist. "Y'so fuckin' wet already. Damn woman. You could put out a fire with that pussy. Hm-hm. Let's start one first though, yeah?" His hands dug into the plush of your hips and pushed/pulled you over him.

Your cunt wrapped so perfectly around him made him let out the most guttural of moans that caused you to clench around nothing. But he felt it and moaned again. It was becoming a vicious little cycle: He'd moan, your body would react, so on and so forth.

He pulled you up, grabbing underneath your ass and lifted you so you were hovering just over his cock. You rolled your head forward to look at him as you slid down, putting just the head inside of you.

"Don't be a fuckin' tease." He growled at you and tried to pull you down, his cock twitching at the denial of the possibility of complete envelopment. "Fucking hell, you're so bratty. Gonna make you pay for this," he laughed.

"Sorry, can't hear you over how good just the head of your cock feels while I'm bouncin' on it." You smirked at him as you wiggled your hips side to side.

He reached up and grabbed your neck, pulling you down to him as he thrust up into you. "I said, don't be a fucking tease," he hissed out through a clenched jaw.

You felt your eyes roll back and your body tense up as he filled you completely. It was almost too much to handle. "Katsu ... ki ... ah, fu-ughh, fuck! Don't stop!" You couldn't hold on anymore. You ground your hips against him as you came, your pussy fluttering and gripping his cock so tightly he couldn't help but follow you over the edge.

All of a sudden, you stopped riding out the last waves of your orgasm. Sitting on top of him still, you put your hand over your mouth and you looked down at him with pure panic in your eyes. "Hmph ..." you shook your head when he asked if you were ok. "Hmphhuh," you gagged again. He helped you off of him and all but dragged your post-o, jellied, naked body to the bathroom and lifted the lid on the toilet for you.

"Y'fuckin' sick'er somethin', babe? Got the flu? What the hell's goin' on?" His brows furrowed and he scowled at you. You knew it was out of concern, not frustration.

You shook your head, trying to compose yourself after something so icky. Hating yourself for doing this right now. Right after such an intimate moment. While he was standing there, staring at you. Puking your guts out. Naked. "Don' knoooohhhh fuck, leave, Kats. Get out! Ple-!"

He squatted down next to you and held your hair back with his right hand and rubbed your back with his left. "'M not fuckin' leavin' you. Not for pukin', not for fuckin' nothin'. Y'fuckin' hear me? Better or worse. Sickness and health and all that other shit. Just shut up and finish. 'L be right here for ya."

The amount of fluid that left your face was disgusting. You'd never had such floodgates open like this before. Puking, crying, snot running from your nose. You were an actual mess. But he stood by you through all of it.

"Hey, babe ... d'ya ... ah shit. D'ya think yer pregnant?" Katsuki asked as you stood from the floor, moving slowly toward the sink to wash your face off. The sparkle in his eyes was undeniable. And it killed you that you had to tell him you weren't.

You leaned over the sink, your face in your hands, and started crying. "I ... oh, Kats. I'm ... I'm not. I took a test a couple of days ago. I didn't w-", his hands on your back silenced you. They were, to date, the most important hands in the world to you. They were strong. They were soft and warm and they are all encompassing. If there were any kind of god, you would live out the rest of your days under his hands.

"Why didn't you tell me? I don't want you carryin’ this all by yourself, y/n. What we don't succeed in doing together, we share the hardships and overcome that ... together. I'm so sorry, babe. I'm sorry I was gone for so long. I shouldn'ta left ya for so long." He spoke to you so quietly. Like his words would be the thing that finally throws you over the edge. The thing that finally breaks you.

"Maybe I ate something." You ran your forearm across your dry lips and hobbled back to the bed to bury yourself in the blankets. "I'm sorry, Kats. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I won't do that again, promise." He walked over to you and sat down on the edge and brushed the hair from your face.

"G'na get you some 7-up 'n a cold washcloth. Be right back, babe." You watched him walk out of the bedroom and turn down the hallway. His butt jiggling ever so slightly. It made you smile. And it made you feel something else.

"The hell ...?" You sat up in bed and realized that you were horny. Again. Katsuki came back a minute later with what he promised you. Something to drink and a cold, wet cloth for you to put on your face. Smiling as he handed you this stuff, you pulled him in close to you and kissed him on the cheek all the way down to his neck.

"Oh, babe. Yer jus' so ... hah. No matter what. Even with your hair matted to your face and your eyes puffy and red. I love you." He leaned over and kissed your forehead.

"Don't say it." You smiled at him. It was almost like you knew what he was going to say. And you couldn't bear to hear it. Not right now. You had no idea where you two stood in that department. You weren't ready to admit that to each other. Not yet. Not right now.

He smiled back and laid down next to you, spooning you from behind. He ran his hand along your waist and stomach, over and over. It was relaxing. And it was a little bit arousing, but you managed to keep yourself at bay. You had just thrown up, after all.

"I'm sorry, Kats. I'm sorry I can't give us the baby we want. I'm sorry I'm so fucking broken." You choked on your words as tears started to well in your eyes. "I'm so sorry."

He shifted behind you and held you tighter. "Babe, you're not broken. 'Sides, who says it ain't me? Maybe we should make a doctors appointment, yeah? Get my count tested and all that shit. Whatcha say?"

You sniffed and wiped your face with the washcloth. It felt good against your hot face. "You - Kats, you'd do that? You'd have your sperm count checked?" Rolling over to face him, you took his face in your hands and held it there while the two of you just stared at each other.

"Fuckin' never said I wouldn't! Course I will. 'F we ever wanna get to the bottom of this, we hafta explore every possibility, right?" He ran a rough finger along your cheek to collect the freshly fallen tears and wipe them on the sheets. You made an ick face at him and he told you to pipe down, they need to be changed anyway after the night you two just had on them.

***

A couple of weeks past and he had his appointment with the fertility specialist where they ran a count on Kats. They called and said his sperm was 'abnormally high and active'. Their exact words were, "We have never seen anything like it in our careers." He didn't shut up about it for 3 days.

This left you in a fog. Surely, you were the reason you two couldn't conceive. It made you feel like absolute shit. No matter what he said to you, it didn't lift the guilt you were trying to carry all on your own. You thought he shouldn't have to hurt when he wasn't the problem. This complex was exhausting you and you could feel yourself slipping deeper into sadness.

You went to the clinic at the end of the day that Friday, the last appointment they had for the week. They drew your blood and told you they would be in touch on Monday or Tuesday about the next step after they had a chance to evaluate the sample for any obvious

It was Saturday morning and you were both sitting on the back porch eating breakfast when your phone rang. "It's the clinic, Kats. You answer. I don't want to talk to them. They probably found a plastic bag where my uterus is supposed to be." You pushed your phone across the little glass tabletop and got up, carrying the dishes into the kitchen to wash them off.

"Yeah babe, on it. Hello? N-no. You're trying to reach Bakugou? Well, shit. Yeah. That's me, I mean ... I'm her husband, Katsuki. Yes! The man with incredible sperm!" He laughed, you cringed. "Wait, what? No, that's not ... I mean ...," his voice got quiet and he got up, walking across the yard to mess with a fence piece.

You watched him out there fiddle with the broken wooden slat and felt your heart breaking into even smaller pieces. "Fuck." You whispered, looking down at the tiny bubbles popping on the soaking dishes. A tear dripped from your chin and landed on your chest, darkening a spot on your gray Dynamight shirt.

Katsuki came walking into the kitchen and came over to you, putting his hands on your shoulders, he turned you to face him. "Hey, ma?" Getting down on his knees, he put his hands on your waist and smooshed his face into your tummy. "Ma?"

"Are you having a fucking stroke or something? What are you doing, dumbass?" You wiped your chin and huffed out a short, insincere laugh. "Kats, what did - what'd they say. Is it me? Am I ..."

"Yes, babe. It's you. It's you … and the little grenade you're carrying. You're ... we're ... having a baby, y/n. You're fuckin' pregnant." He beamed up at you, tears in his wide eyes. 

"It's you, babe. You and me. And … and … and a little us in you. We did it, y/n. We're gonna have a family!"

You covered your mouth with your hands and cried. Not just a few tears, but a full-on ugly cry. You were going to be a mom. Katsuki was going to be a dad. And this was just the beginning of your lives as a family.

"I'm sorry I didn't believe in us. I'm sorry I let myself think for a second that it wouldn't be us. Us. Just us. I'm so happy it's us." You bent over and kissed his forehead. He stood and wrapped you in his arms and you both just stood there letting this new beautiful reality sink in.

The future was yours and yours alone … well, and Kats’ and the babies, of course. 

Taglist ::: @dreamcastgirl99 @viburnt @arlerts-angel @darkstarlight82

[a-whispering-echo]

PDA

hi! bad sansuary prompt for 'PDA'! i wrote a quick thingie for this one because character interactions are hard to draw.

this is written for the band au, but i dont THINK i mentioned anything too 'human' about them? all you really need to know i guess is theyre human, in a band, and Killer, Horror, Dust, Cross and Nightmare are a poly <3

Dust sat hunched over the apartment’s battered coffee table, scribbling in the margins of an old, dog-eared notebook. A mug of lukewarm tea sat beside him on the coffee table, untouched since Cross made it an hour ago. The faint hum of music filtered in from another room - Nightmare’s low-fi playlist, he thought, though it was hard to tell from here - and the scent of whatever Horror was cooking wafted lazily through the air. Dust’s pen stuttered against the paper as his wrist cramped. Fibro was a bitch today.

The sanctuary of his quiet moment was shattered by the telltale creak of Killer’s heeled boots on the hardwood floor.

“Oh, Dusty~!” Killer’s sing-song voice echoed through the room, and Dust groaned inwardly. The energy Killer exuded was like a hyperactive puppy on sugar, and Dust was just not in the mood. He hadn’t slept properly in… well, longer than he cared to admit.

“What.” Dust didn’t look up, didn’t stop fiddling with his pen.

“What, he says,” Killer huffed, plopping down on the couch beside him with exaggerated flair. “What! Like I’m not the literal love of your life walking into the room.”

“Bold of you to assume that title,” Dust muttered, though the faintest smirk twitched at the corner of his lips.

Killer leaned in, propping his chin on Dust’s shoulder. “What can I say? I’m a bold guy. Now, c’mere.”

Dust froze as Killer wrapped his arms around him, hands resting firmly on his stomach. “Get off,” he grumbled, attempting to wriggle free.

“Nope. Not until you admit you love me.”

“Killer.”

“Dust.” Killer nuzzled into his neck, and Dust could feel the grin against his skin. “You’re so tense, habibi. You need to relax. Let me help.”

“I relax just fine without you.” Dust’s voice was tight, but he didn’t pull away again. It wasn’t that he hated Killer’s affection; he just didn’t know what to do with it. Especially not when Killer turned it up to 11 in front of everyone.

“Yeah, sure,” Killer teased. “Your shoulders feel like concrete, but go off, babe.”

Dust finally turned his head, fixing Killer with a glare. “Can’t you go smother Cross or something? He’s into that kind of crap.”

“Nah,” Killer said, nonchalant as ever. “He’s out grocery shopping with Nightmare. Horror’s cooking. That leaves you, my grumpy little void of a man.”

“I hate you,” Dust deadpanned, though the blush creeping up his freckled cheeks betrayed him.

“You loooove me,” Killer singsonged, placing a dramatic kiss on Dust’s cheek. “Admit it. Just three little words, and I’ll let you go.”

Dust sighed heavily, the sound laden with equal parts exasperation and fondness. “Fine. I tolerate you. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.” Killer’s grin widened, and he kissed Dust’s cheek again, lingering this time. “Now, how about a real kiss, huh?”

“No.”

“Oh, c’mon.”

“I said no.”

“Okay, but hear me out- ”

Before Killer could finish, Dust grabbed a pillow from the couch and smacked him square in the face with it. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re adorable,” Killer shot back, undeterred, even as he rubbed at his nose. “Seriously, Dust, just let me love you. Is that so hard?”

“Yes,” Dust said flatly. But there was a softness in his tone, a quiet resignation that Killer knew meant he wasn’t as annoyed as he pretended to be.

“Fine. Be grumpy. But I’m not going anywhere.” Killer leaned back, resting his feet on the coffee table like he owned the place. Well, he did, Dust supposed.“So get used to it, babe.”

Dust groaned, slumping further into the battered couch, his notebook now abandoned on the coffee table. He felt Killer’s eyes on him, full of playful mischief, and he knew it was far from over.

Sure enough, Killer shifted closer, his hands already reaching for Dust’s waist. “Mwah mwah mwah mwah- ” Killer peppered exaggerated, smacking kisses along the side of Dust’s neck, his voice an over-the-top symphony of affection.

“UGH, get OFF, you fuckin’- you’re slobbering all on my neck!” Dust twisted, trying to squirm out of Killer’s iron grip.

“Never!” Killer laughed, clearly revelling in Dust’s irritation. “Your neck deserves to be cherished, and I am just the man to do it!”

“Cherish yourself into traffic,” Dust snapped, though the redness of his ears gave him away.

Killer gasped theatrically, clutching his chest as if wounded. “Rude! And here I thought we were having a moment.”

“A moment of you annoying the hell out of me, maybe.” Dust wiped at his neck, grimacing. “I’m gonna need to shower now.”

“Oh, don’t act like you hate it.” Killer leaned back with a smug grin, draping himself across the couch like a cat who had successfully knocked something off the counter. “You’re just mad because you do like it and you don’t wanna admit it.”

Dust threw him another glare, but Killer only winked.

“Fine,” Dust muttered after a beat, leaning forward to grab his notebook again. “You win. Now shut up.”

“Victory is mine!” Killer declared, throwing his arms up triumphantly before pulling Dust back into another side hug, this one blessedly less slobbery. Dust grumbled but didn’t fight it this time, letting Killer rest his head against his shoulder.

They sat like that for a while, Killer humming some off-key melody under his breath and Dust trying (and failing) to refocus on his writing. The warmth of Killer’s presence was annoying, sure, but it wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

“Love you, Dusty,” Killer said softly after a while, his voice unusually gentle.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dust muttered, tapping his pen against the notebook. But this time, there was no bite in his tone. Just the quiet comfort of someone who knew they were loved, even if they’d never admit it out loud.

“…Love you too.”

[pets001]

Scene: The kitchen. The cat, Mr. Whiskers, is sitting on the counter, staring intently at his owner, Sarah, who is making breakfast.] ___________ Sarah: [stirring eggs in a pan] Oh, look at you, Mr. Whiskers. So, are you gonna just sit there and watch me cook, or are you gonna help? Mr. Whiskers: [giving her a flat stare] Help? Please. I’m here to observe your tragic attempts at feeding me. And frankly, it's an embarrassment. Sarah: [laughs] What are you talking about? I’m a great cook! I make you fresh food all the time! Mr. Whiskers: [slow blink] Yeah, fresh food that’s… [pauses]... mostly from cans. You know, that’s a very low bar. Sarah: [rolling her eyes] Oh, come on! You love your canned food! Mr. Whiskers: [sniffs the air dramatically] Canned food is the fast food of the feline world. Where’s the gourmet? Where’s the culinary art? I want a sushi-grade tuna. A salmon filet. A delicately seasoned quail... Maybe a sprinkle of catnip for flair. Sarah: [laughs] Oh, sure. Let me just go catch a quail in the backyard for you. You know, like I do every morning. Mr. Whiskers: [mock gasp] You don’t catch them? Ugh, pathetic. Well, while you’re at it, don’t forget to season it with patience and a dash of dignity... Sarah: [teasing] Dignity? You’re a cat who licks his butt in front of guests. That’s dignity? Mr. Whiskers: [pauses, then flicks tail] I prefer to think of it as... self-care. Sarah: [laughing hard] You’re unbelievable. Mr. Whiskers: [glaring] And you’re about to serve me eggs. Eggs, Sarah. The most basic food known to mankind. Have you no respect for my palate? Sarah: [smirking] You’re lucky I don’t just give you dry kibble. Mr. Whiskers: [shudders dramatically] Kibble?! The horror... [puts paw to forehead as if fainting] I could never. Sarah: [scooping eggs onto a plate] Well, you’d better eat them, because it’s either this or the vet bills again. Your stomach's been making sounds I don’t even want to describe. Mr. Whiskers: [sniffs plate skeptically] Sounds? If by sounds you mean “the call of my ancestors,” then yes. That’s exactly what you’re hearing. Sarah: [laughing] Sure, that’s totally what it is. I’m sure the "call of your ancestors" wants eggs. Mr. Whiskers: [stares down at eggs] I suppose I’ll eat these... today. But mark my words, Sarah: tomorrow, I’m demanding caviar. Sarah: [pretending to be shocked] Oh, absolutely! I’ll get right on that. [winks] Maybe I can convince the grocery store to carry a little "cat caviar." Mr. Whiskers: [eyes narrow] You better. [licks paw] Because, remember: I can always find a new owner. You’re lucky I like you. Sarah: [laughing as she walks away] Well, enjoy your eggs, Mr. Whiskers. I guess you do have standards... even if they are wildly unrealistic. Mr. Whiskers: [muttering to himself as he starts eating] I’m tolerating this. For now. __________ Fresh Meow Deals

[changingplumbob]

CW: Low level sim spice - Guide to content warnings

Glenn: I'm sorry I'm not a werewolf that can get you pregnant

Silver: Yeah well it's good you're not because I love you just the way you are. Even if you distract me when I'm trying to plan

Glenn: Oh you mean like this

Glenn reached over and knocked the papers off the bed. While Silver was shocked he grabbed the pen and threw it in one of his planters for good measure.

Silver: Hey! I was using that

Glenn: Come use me instead

Glenn grabbed Silver's wrists and rolled on to his back, pulling the larger man on top of him. He knew if Silver didn't want to partake in any woohoo shenanigans he wouldn't have been able to move him so he took it as a good sign.

Silver: Why are you being so annoying today

Glenn: Because... I want you

Silver: You should have let me finish my list first

Glenn: Oh please we both know for you to be happy that pros and cons list is going to take days

Silver: And If it does? You should learn to wait

Glenn: And then you'll want to have visits to the top choices before you decide and I'll be left here in agony because you won't-

Silver bent down and kissed him. For a while they stayed just like that, Silver pinning Glenn down and kissing him while he let his hand trace the spellcasters abs.

Silver sat back up and Glenn pouted.

Silver: What am I going to do with you Babycakes? You just won't let me work

Glenn: I have some ideas of what you could do. Read my mind

Silver raised an eyebrow and stared down at Glenn. Yes he could guess what he was thinking about but where was the fun in getting straight to it? If he placated Glenn fully he'd likely be able to work on the list afterwards and he really wanted to figure out the top few moving choices.

Silver: I can't read your mind, I'm not an alien

Glenn: Well I was thinking... I know I can't get you pregnant but what if we pretended?

Silver: Pretended huh?

Glenn: Mmhmm

Silver leaned down, bracing himself with his left arm beside Glenn and letting his right hand trace the patterns of one of Glenn's many flower shirts.

Silver: I don't know, do you really deserve to get me pregnant after your brat act today

Glenn: You could teach me a lesson? I know we've not done it much but you're great when you get in power bottom mode. Wait, do you know what that is?

Silver: *chuckles* If you want me to ride you just say it. But you should know *kisses* I will have you apologising for your misbehaviour before I'm finished

Glenn: Oh, you're talking the talk there Beefcake but I'm not going to cave and apologise

If that wasn't famous last words... Silver absolutely got Glenn's apology. When they were finished and Glenn went to shower Silver was able to collect the papers off the floor and get back to his list. They'd been together long enough that Silver estimated Glenn would need at least an hour in there, perfect for him to focus out here.

The list did take several days. It was incredibly long but a lot of the places had more cons than pros so they were discarded as options. In the end they narrowed their choices down to either somewhere in Glimmerbrook or the Windslar neighbourhood of Windenburg.

Glenn: You sure you don't want to live in Henford

Silver: I mean being close to Grayson and his kids could be nice but I do want somewhere we can just escape the rest of the world

Glenn: But our friends can come visit right

Silver: Yeah. I'm surprised they tolerate me though

Glenn: What's not to love about you? Oh come on froggies! I nearly had that one

Silver: I guess that one doesn't want to make tadpoles for your collection

Glenn: Clearly. What were we talking about? Oh yeah well Henri likes that you know old stuff, and that you're always feeding me because he knows I'm a glutton. Miranda likes that you're trying to learn how to use technology and Ophelia...

Silver: Is Ophelia. She doesn't seem to dislike anyone despite the hell her life was. I admire that about her

Glenn: And what about me

Silver: *smirking* Are you fishing for compliments Babycakes

Glenn: Only from you

Silver: Well you're the best catch I've ever made

Glenn: Awww. I love you to Beefcake

Previous ... Next

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 18

Hey guys! I got the impression that that cliffhanger really threw people and only one person guessed right.

Thank you for all those that wished me a belated birthday, I had a great weekend.

Today we have resolution to the cliffhanger, some low stakes drama, and the only love triangle I can tolerate ;).

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

***

Steve felt someone shove him into the car door. He was whirled around and his back was slammed back into the door. He was face to face with his assailant. He was objectively handsome, Steve supposed. He had long, straight blond hair that went down to the middle of his back, piercing hazel eyes, and piercings in his eyebrow, nose, both ears and pair of snakebites in his lower lips.

On his neck, Steve could make out a tattoo of some kind of bird. He gulped. The man radiated malice and spite.

“I don’t care who the fuck you think you are,” the man snarled. “But you stay away from Eddie Munson.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Fuck off.” He pushed the man back far enough that he had room to swing if he needed it. “I’m betting you’re the asshole that made him feel unsafe. Well, you messed with the wrong person, dude.”

The man, Blondie as Steve was starting to call him in his head, grabbed Steve’s shirt and pulled him so that their faces were inches from each other.

“Leave him alone,” Blondie sneered. “Or you’ll find out how unsafe I can be.”

Suddenly Blondie was yanked back and thrown to the side. Hopper stood over him, snarling.

“Fuck off before my apprentice calls the cops,” Hop said, jutting his thumb at Eden who had her phone out, likely recording the whole thing.

Blondie looked over at Steve, who stood there with his arms crossed and then back at Hopper. Both men glared down at him. Blondie got to his feet and dusted himself off.

“This isn’t the last you’ll see of me, asshole,” he sneered at Steve. “I meant what I said. You touch Eddie Munson and I’ll make you pay.”

“And I told you, you are messing with the wrong man,” Steve snapped back. “You even so much as look his direction and you’ll wish you were never born.”

The man scoffed and walked away rolling his eyes.

Hopper turned to Steve, gripping his shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

Steve let out a long shuddering sigh. “Yeah.”

“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck that was about?” he barked.

“One of the people I tattoo had–has a crazy ex-boyfriend,” Steve explained.

Hopper rolled his eyes. “Fuck. I’ve still got friends in the local police, I see if I can’t convince one or two of them to drive by your shop once and while and make sure everything is okay.”

Steve breathed out a heavy sigh. That wouldn’t do anything about the stalking but at least he wouldn’t be able to do something to the shop.

He nodded.

“Take care of yourself, you hear me?” Hopper said gruffly.

“I will, I promise.”

*

Robin and Steve arrived early the next morning to see the candidates for the receptionist position. They had three interviews lined up and hoped that someone could be found fast.

Robin had started main lining six shots of espresso to get through the day. Something the shop people had taken to calling ‘the fallen angel’.

The first one up was a kid right out of high school. Steve would have guessed that he was Erica’s age or there about. He was nervous and kept chewing on his nails the whole time.

Once he was gone, Steve and Robin looked at each other and said with a heavy sigh, “NO.”

The next one was Troy Walsh. Robin chatted with him happily, but Steve remained silent.

After he left Robin turned to him and smacked his arm. “What the hell, Dingus! He was good!”

Steve folded his arms and ducked his head, scuffing at the floor with the edge of the sole of his sneaker. “If the biggest middle school bully of one of your friends came here and applied for a job, would you hire them?”

Robin opened her mouth to answer but stopped before so much as a squawk passed her lips. She closed it and pursed her lips together.

“I guess it would depend on how often you see said friend,” she said quietly, “and whether or not they come to shop.”

“Will.”

Her jaw dropped and her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. “Tell me you’re kidding!”

Steve shook his head. “Went as far as to push him while they were playing at the quarry. Will almost fell, if Mike hadn’t caught him, there’s no telling what would happened.”

“There’s bullying and then there’s attempted murder!” Robin screeched. “Jesus Christ!” She looked at the door Troy had just exited in shock and horror.

Steve gave her leg a squeeze. “We still have one more to interview. Maybe they’ll be better then the last two options.”

Robin sighed, but nodded.

“Steve?” the clear, bright voice asked from the doorway. “Oh my god, Robin?”

Both of their heads snapped up in shock. Standing in the doorway was Robin’s high school crush and fellow marching band-ite, Vickie Powell. Her bright green eyes twinkled as a rosy blush dusted her freckled cheeks. In short, she was as gorgeous as Robin remembered.

Steve looked at the application in his hand and then back up at her. “Victoria Prince?”

She shrugged. “Got married, found out he was cheating on me with every available woman on his dorm floor, divorced him, liked the name so I kept it. Also because his parents love me, so...” She winked.

Steve and Robin laughed.

“Come on in!” Steve said encouragingly. “Sit down, tell me about where you’re at now and why you want the job.”

They started talking and they slipped into an easy banter. Before they knew it there was the tinkling of the front door and they could hear voices.

Robin and Steve shared a glance. Steve got to his feet.

“When can you start?” he asked, sticking out his hand for her to shake.

She made a happy, surprised kind of scoff. “Wait, seriously?”

Robin nodded gleefully.

“Today work for you?”

Steve grinned. “Hell yeah it does. We all have nicknames that match the theme, pick one you think you won’t mind being yelled at in. Robin will teach you all the ins and outs of the shop and in two weeks, you’ll be put as main morning receptionist and then we’ll go from there.”

Vickie grinned. “That’s great! I can’t wait to start.”

Robin and Vickie went out to the foyer and he could hear Vickie being introduced to the rest of the Royals.

Yeah, she was going to be a good fit.

*

Steve was happy. That should have been his first warning sign. Because other then the strange run in with Eddie’s ex, everything had been going well. His shop was busy, his training of Chrissy and Argyle was moving along smoothly, Vickie was fitting in perfectly, Robin was having a crisis about having to work with two pretty girls, but Steve thought it was cute, Erica had built the henna thing up so that it was very lucrative, so much so that she was thinking about not going back to school in the fall.

And that was including everything that was happening with Eddie. The tattoo was coming along amazingly. The sword was done and Steve was starting work on the right wing. Saturday nights were for the band and the club after. Steve was actually relishing the slower speed Eddie asked to go with, because he was learning a lot about Eddie and just having fun without the expectations of a relationship.

So of course that meant something was going to go wrong. A wrong that took the shape of Argyle’s roommate and his girlfriend and suddenly Argyle being cagey about them made too much sense.

Steve was at the corner grocer trying to decide between green beans or a side salad for dinner with Eddie tonight. He pulled out his phone to ask Eddie his opinion when he heard a familiar giggle. A sound he hadn’t heard in a really long time.

He turned around just as Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle stumbled around the center aisle display of avocados, laughing about something Steve didn’t hear.

Suddenly Steve’s insides turned to ice. Argyle stopped first and he looked down embarrassed.

Jonathan spotted him next and the look of pity in his eyes made Steve want to throw up right there in the produce section. The ice traveled up his spine as Nancy finally realized that her companions had stopped laughing. She looked at Jonathan, who pointed behind her.

Steve could see her frown as she turned and then her jaw dropped in recognition.

“Steve?” Nancy asked, jutting her head forward in shock.

He took a step back, looking at Argyle, who refused to meet his eye. That’s when he got it.

The friend that needed Argyle to come from California to take care of stayed was Jonathan.

Jonathan had been a car accident two years ago and Will said that Nancy needed help taking care of him, but both Will and Joyce weren’t able to. Will had never said if they got some help, but when he stopped talking about it, Steve assumed they had.

It had been rough time for the Byers family and while Steve sympathized, the only Byers family member he was still on speaking terms with was Will.

He took another step back and stumbled into different display. This one for oranges. He turned on his heel and scrambled to get away, stumbling and bumping into people before just setting his basket down and running.

Steve managed to make it out to the parking lot before he had a break down. He tried to get into his car, but he kept dropping his keys. Finally he turned around and slid down to the ground as he fought off a panic attack.

Suddenly there was someone beside him holding out a blunt.

“Do you partake?” Argyle asked gently.

Steve nodded. “It’s been awhile, but yeah.”

Argyle lit the blunt and passed it over to Steve who took a deep drag before handing it back to the other man. He let the smoke out, low and slow letting the drug calm his tortured mind.

“They told me not to tell you,” Argyle said after a moment. “They said it would only hurt my chances of becoming your apprentice.”

Steve sighed and threw his head back against the door of the car. “Maybe, maybe not. You’re good, man. I just feel so...lied to.”

Argyle took a hit and handed it back to Steve. “I told them we should at least you know that Jonathan was my roommate. Especially since you’re still bros with his bro, you know.”

That got a small smile out of Steve. “Probably. I don’t know how I would have reacted because I wasn’t given the chance to make the choice for myself.”

“Not telling you took away your agency,” Argyle said sagely, nodded. “That wasn’t cool.”

Steve nodded back. “Yeah, but I do like you. I like your style. I want to keep having you as my apprentice...”

Argyle took the blunt away from Steve’s fingers as he was just letting it burn down. “I feel like there’s a but there somewhere.”

Steve thudded his head against the car door again. “Did they tell you she cheated on me with him?”

Argyle frowned. Steve thought it looked odd on the normally chill man. He shook his head. “They didn’t.”

Steve took the blunt back and took another drag. “Yeah. I didn’t find out until after Nancy and I broke up. Just something Jonathan said about when they hooked up for the first time and when Nancy and I officially broke it off set alarm bells off in my head.”

“The timeline didn’t match up?” Argyle asked.

Steve nodded. “It was such bullshit. I thought I had moved on. Things are going great and then this happens and it feels like a bomb has fucking gone off under my feet.”

“You like Jane Austen, my dude?” Argyle asked.

Steve snorted. “Sort of. Robin loves the A&E ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and watches it all the time. It’s hard to miss.”

Argyle nodded. “It’s like how Jane felt when she saw Mr Bingley for first time since he went to London and ghosted her. Yeah, it was tough that first meeting, but now she knew what to expect the next time.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “You’re right, thanks.”

Argyle gave him a half smile. He stood up and ground out the blunt under his heel.

“See you tomorrow,” Steve said with a timid smile.

“Yeah?” Argyle asked, unsure but hopeful.

Steve stood up. “Yeah. I think you need better friends, but that’s a personal opinion not a professional one. And my professional opinion is that you are a great artist and I want to keep you for as long as you want a job in my shop okay?”

Argyle nodded, a big grin on his face. “See you tomorrow!”

Steve watched him go with a shake of his head. The dude was too nice for the likes of Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers, but there were worst people to be friends with. Like Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins for example. And considering that Steve was the one that had made that dumb mistake, he couldn’t really fault Argyle for his.

He went back into the grocer and finished his shopping. At least he would have a funny story to tell Eddie tonight. He just had to apologize to management first.

***

I hope copying it from back when the tagging was working will help. Fingers crossed because I am running out of things to try at this point.

Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​ @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat @nightmareglitter @tinyplanet95

[tmbgareok]

I keep my head low as I enter the square Don't know what to think or who might be there Been scared for so long. So long it's not true But I rue this day and I rue you too

But I knew you in your time When alarm-bells filled your mind And what was happening was happening with ten quarters and five dimes Now there's not much left to say It's just excuses for today So let's just save the list for the optimists Someone said they're on their way

So some guy once wrote "Betrayal takes two" I guess I oughta know since I think that's true I'm sorry that you-so strange for so long- Cannot reanimate what is already gone

But we could talk right through the night Under a pitch-black moonless sky And what was possible was possible with no one asking why And I loved you when you ran Round in circles, round with plans Without permission or suspicions You even tolerated slang

[fanofstuff01]

THIRD CHAPTER BABY!

So recall for people who didn’t read the first part: Adam fell and accidentally sold his soul to Valentino, he became one of his favorite whores. And became coworkers with Angel. Also this has 2 more chapters. (first part second part)

Does this include a liitle Adamsapple? Maybe one-sided? I have no idea

This has little to no in real life Valentinos, just whatever trigger warning you think that one Angel voicemail scene has applies here. Also you can punch me, I’m an ignorant on alcohol and I might’ve wrote Angel’s exact same voicemail scene on Adam…

Tags: @woah-why-i-am-here @rius-cave @candyhoiic @puparella @fightinsoda @foreverpeachy2010 @dlf24866

I hope you all have a fantastic day/night <3

“You are NOT pretty by any way!” A pink figure screamed.

Angel was running away from an exorcist. He was out of the Hotel and to his luck, he stumbled to her. Normally he’d shoot her, but he knew she wouldn’t hesitate to bring him with herself to the double death. He saw someone trying to stab her, but she just killed him. He guessed she wanted to see Angel try escaping, get tired and then kill Angel sadistically, because she wasn’t flying.

“Oh shit.” He stared at the wall. It was a dead end. This was it. End of his 138 years. He leaned to the wall and closed his eyes but the pain he expected didn’t came. Instead, he felt something on his legs. It was the exorcist. She was unconscious. Maybe even dead.

“I’m sorry Daisy.” Someone familiar spoke. “Come here bitch.”

“Adam?” He asked. He couldn’t believe it.

“I told you to come here. You are fucking bleeding.” He held his hand out to him and Angel took it.

“Did you just..?”

“Don’t think you mean anything to me. Valentino would fucking end me if he finds out I let something happen to you.” He helped him getting up and led him to a place nearby, it seemed like a hotel.

“How did you even know I was there?”

“L- Some other of them chased me down. You were near my hotel. I saw you.” He simply said, looking away. “Are you gonna get inside? You need treatment.” He stood at a door.

“I-I guess.” He was still shocked. What?

“Good. Follow me.”

He kept following the first man and inspected him. Most of the feathers on his right wing were torn off, his clothes were ripped and he had lots of tiny scars all over his body, one on his forehead looked a bit serious, still sort of bleeding. Why is he is more caring about me when he himself is bleeding? He definitely went through something. Maybe something with the angel he said that was following him?

“How did you even managed to take her down so fastly!?”

“I was their fucking leader. I trained them before. Of fucking course I know their weak spots.” He opened a door for Angel. “Get inside.”

“Ooh.” He sat down to a messed up bed as the sinner went to get medical supplies.

“Give me your arm.”

Firstly, he cleaned and disinfected his arm, causing a low hiss. He then took a bandage and started bandaging his left arm as he just stared at him.

They weren’t exactly on the term of friends at that moment. Angel still didn’t forgot who he was, and the other sinner was still hating the whole hell, so they just tolerated eachother. However, he was on the gray area for now to Angel. He knew it could be hard to drop your pride and accept this was your place now.

But no matter which area he was in, he would NOT expect him to be the one to protect him.

“What happened to your wing?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Are you going to fix that?” He pointed to his head.

“Maybe.”

“Why did they even show up? Today’s not the extermination day!” Angel was starting to get annoyed.

“I have no fucking idea. And done. You have to be more careful, slut.”

“Ii… Will.” He looked around the room as the former exorcist went to put the supplies back. It was a cool room at all, but it was messed up as hell. Maybe even worse than the one they were in.

“Soo… Do you think there are more of them?” He carefully asked. His colleague didn’t seem to be in the right mindspace. Not that he cared though.

“As I said, I fucking have no idea.” He lied down to his bed and pulled his blankets, completely ignoring the other demon.

“Do you want me to go?”

“Do whatever you want. I don’t care.” He closed his eyes, supposedly trying to go to sleep.

“Hey. Get up.” Angel realized the torned part of his wings were bigger when he lied down, and so was the bleedig point.

“What the fuck.”

“I dunno much about wings, but DO know you can’t ignore the blood lake on your forehead. Sit down. I’ll take care of it.”

“Why would you do that.”

“What do you think Val would do to me if he found out I let YOU die? Was that because of angelic steel?”

“Oh. Yes.” All of his words were blank and emotionless. Even when he asked questions, he wasn’t curious or surprised or any other kinds of things a question could carry. He just wanted the information, and when he got it, it was over. No reaction.

“Okie.” He brought back the supplies he used to the bed. Like he did, he cleaned the blood first. But the other porn demon didn’t flich like he did when he pressed the disinfection cotton to his face. Just one of his eyes twitch. Lastly, he bandaged it. “Is there somethin you can do for your wings?”

“No there isn’t.” He lied down again. Well he could use something to ease the pain but he deserved it.

“Okay… I guess I’ll go then.” He collected the medic kit and put it back.

See you tomorrow?”

“I guess. Goodbye.”

“Bye” What the fuck happened to this fucker?

— Continuing —

“Seriously, you need to stop drinking THAT much at nights. One day you’ll get a hungover on a work day and Josh says Valentino becomes an even bigger piece of shit if he realizes.”

“C’moon, I AM being careful! I’m almost as old as the fuckin Earth is!”

“Just a warning.” They sat down at the bar and Adam put his mask on the table. “Where’s Husker?”

“Him and Bambi left for some important shit I gue-“

“Hey gays!” Someone behind them cheerfully said and alarm bells started to scream in Adam’s head as he recognized the voice. “Why are you so dirty? Do your clothes need washing?”

“Hi Niff! And no, we’re fine. Did you saw that GIANT cockroach on the third floor second bathroom?” Angel calmly said while Adam was frozen.

“No, I haven’t. I should end it!”

“I will never get used to that gremlin.” Adam watched her spinting away, subconsciously putting a hand on his stomach. There were like 9 x’es as a reminder of what got him there. He shook his head and got up from his seat, wanting to get him and Angel a thing or two.

“Can’t expect you to I guess.” He took out his phone and checked his noftications. “Hellify says Verosika released a new single… 10 messages from Husk… I can check them later…”

“You have to right?” He teased. He couldn’t help himself. They weren’t dating at the moment, but he knew how the cat and the spider had a special bond.

“Can you not.”

“Okay, okay. Do you want some? I’m filling for our missing bartender today.”

“I can have one glass. Wine.” Adam took a bottle for himself and one to prepare Angel’s.

“Here it is.”

“Thanks.”

He took a mouthful and opened his own phone. He didn’t have a lot of messages. Just Valentino’s. Luckily there were only five. He sighed, he’ll listen them later. He put the phone away and watched Angel who looked like he was waiting someone. Well he did.

“When do you think they’ll be back?” The spider drank down his glass and kept looking at the door.

“I dunno. Sad because your bartender is not here to listen you and tell you sweet shit no friend says?” He smirked.

“I am. Sad because you don’t have someone to do that for you?” He said mockingly.

“Meh. Who needs a partner. They always end the same anyway.” He looked away from his friend, drinking endlessly.

“I saw Steve looking at you like that last week.” He scoffed.

“Steve can lick his ass. I’m not gonna get together with anyone. I’m fine like this.” He pretty much muttered the last part to himself. Well he DID wanted someone in his life… But it wasn’t gonna happen. There was no way he’d ever view him in that light anymore. And Adam was not the type to chase impossible dreams.

“Your subconscious hugging your pillow says otherwise though.”

“WHA- Do you fucking watch me when I sleep?!”

“Relaax, I went to wake you up once. You were snuggling to it too much that I was surprised you weren’t tryna fuck it.”

“Oh please.”

They chatted together for a while when they saw someone unfamiliar. A short blue angler fish demon with big red glasses. He looked at the pornstars suspiciously. They returned the favor.

“Who the fuck are you?” The first man asked. Though he seemed familiar to him.

“Who the fuck are YOU? I came here today. I’m a guest.” He coldly asked.

“So are we, smartass.” Angel rolled his eyes. “He asked your name. Mine’s Angel and that’s Adam.”

“Adam? As the-

“First man, yes.”

“Oh. Baxter. Can you give me a whiskey?” He sat down to a seat of the bar. He still didn’t looked like he was comfortable.

“Suure.” He still tried to recall where he remembered the guy. And it hit him.

“Here Val. My best inventor did what he could do in three days. Right, Bax?” The screen-face said, handing out Adam’s new torture to his owner.

“I did, sir.” He said. He looked as bored as Adam was.

“Awesome! You know Voxy, you should let me borrow your employees more~” He purred.

“Nuh-uh. This guy is useful. Come Baxter. We have our own job. See you Val.” They walked away, leaving Adam with the worst boss in the world.

“Waait… You work for Voxtech don’tcha? You are the fucker who designed this torture!” He pointed at his mask.

“Yes, and? My boss just gave me what I needed to do, I didn’t even knew it was for you.” He looked bored. “Now can you please give me that whiskey?”

“How about-“ He was gonna tell Mr Serious Shithead to go grab it on his own, but Angel gave him a “Just fuckin do it, Charlie would be happy” look. He groaned, he was right. Princess Rainbows wasn’t that bad when you get used to her, not to mention she was the only fucking person in the hotel -besides Angel- who understood he was in depression when he showed up for the first time and didn’t bother him until he was in the right headspace again. He could at least try being nice to her guests.

“Here.” He forced himself to smile “What are you doing here so late anyway?”

“Last time I checked 10 wasn’t late.” He sipped from his glass.

“Whatever.” He shrugged and finished his own bottle. “I’m heading off to bed now. And,” He took his belongings from the table. “Don’t come into my room ever again.”

“What? Worried because I can saw you doing unspeakable?”

“Please.” He chuckled and went to his room. Locking it in case the cyclops might try some shit again when he swas asleep. He lied down to his bed and took his phone out, smile fading. Do it. It’ll be over. He said to himself. It’ll only be worse if you don’t.

He sighed and opened the first one. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t around that much for the last few hours, I missed you so much… But they told me you went to your stupid little hotel early when I finally managed to go there… And that makes me sad…”

“YOU FUCKING PRICK! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING!? YOU ARE FUCKING SUPPOSED TO STAY FOR ANOTHER HOUR AFTER OUR JOB IS OVER! DO YOU THINK THIS IS SOMETHING YOU CAN DO?!”

“Of course I get it, you were tired… But you could stay for another hour right… Do you want to play my nerves on purpose..?”

“Oh don’t you worry your head about this baby, I WILL FUCKING MAKE YOU PAY FOR THAT!”

“See you tomorrow, Addie~ And don’t forget: People like you CAN’T have healthy relationships. Partners of people like you are ALWAYS pretending. They are always lying to your face, always knowing you are not ‘special’ for them, always just wanting a piece of a good cake, always using how naive you are, always-“

He got up harshly and threw his phone to the wall. When the fuck did he start crying?

Lilith, Eve, Lute… They all left him. For something better. Something more worthy than him. They saw nothing in him but a toy to play with. And then there was him… Of course he would chase something better, SOMEONE better, he was just dumb enough to think it meant-

Alcohol. That’s what he needed. It might not be a solution, but it was an escape. Escape from reality. Things hurt less when he wasn’t in control of his body. He went to his closet and took out five bottles, completely ignoring the Angel-voiced part of his brain.

Did ya like it? :>

I gotta say this might be my favorite AU of Adam.

[sillyromance]

Hay I'm not having the best day

May I request some soft comfort vore with transformers prime breakdown please I can understand if not. :)

Good day, dear anonymous!

Of course! Here you go - and I hope it'll be better for you soon!

P.S: I wanted to finish this story today since you were feeling sad... So I didn't really had the time to check it properly. I really hope there are no bad mistakes - and that you'll forgive me if there are... Good luck and take care!

The way to sort out problems.

- ... And then I threw him over the wall.

- Primus!.. I almost regret I haven't seen all o' that. You should definitely take me with you next time.

Breakdown and Knockout were going down the corridor, chatting. That time the medic had to stay on board to complete a specific task, so his big blue friend went on a mission alone and spent outside all day. Catching their loud laughter shaking the ship, you smiled, but very soon your eyebrows frowned again, your head titling down. The carmin mech wasn't the only one who missed the bulky decepticon.

That day wasn't the greatest. Everything seemed sucks, and without your friend it was even worse since there was no one who could cheer you up with their clumsy jokes. Surprisingly, you had grown fond of Breakdown quite fast. The first time you saw him you thought you wouldn't get out alive, and now... You learnt he was the best pal anyone could ask for: caring, fun, ready to listen to you any moment. And unlike other decepticons, he was very tolerant to humans - as well as his mate Knockout. Those two protected you and made sure you had everything you needed. The medic was a bit annoying at times, especially while playing flirty, but it was bearable, moreover that your favourite decepticon was around too.

As you expected, soon your paths crossed. Breakdown waved his huge manipulator in a greeting gesture.

- Hello, Y/N. How is it going?

- Fine... - You smirked, rolling your eyes. - As always.

- Well, I wouldn't say that. - Knockout's faceplate grimaced. - At least not after watching you wonder around the decks like a ghost since the noon. Perhaps, you will throw some light on their behaviour, Breakdown. I have tried, but pharmacy seems to be helpless here!

- Shut up... - You scoffed, turning away. A one more thing that you hated about him was his disgusting habit to stick his nose in others ' businesses.

- Well, then I gotta go, Knockout, sorry. See you in the lab tomorrow!

- Sure thing, Breaky!

You trailed the skinny mech dancing away and vanishing behind the nearest wall. Bastard!

- So, what did happen?

The blue cybotronian's yellow optics were staring at you with confusion and concern; he bowed, offering you his hand. It didn't take long before you climbed on it.

- That's... Uh.. Just a bad day, you know.

- I see.

- You must be worn out. I think you should get a proper rest, not to...

- I'm not going to sleep or anything until my friend is OK. Got it? - His voice was soft and soothing, though it was possible to feel some serious notes rumbling deep inside. - Let's, head to our room. I think you might use some... Special treatment, don't you?

It would be hard not to blush.

- Well, I guess so...

Without further discussion, he put you on his shoulder and started going.

The lights went deem due to the late our. While still on the move, Breakdown told you about his adventures from the beginning, definitely trying to distract you from the bad thoughts occupying your mind. It was... Nice. Finally, your big teddy bear was here with you. His low, husky baritone appeared to be best treatment for your aching nerves to settle.

- Home, sweet home...

At privacy, at last.

Breakdown made his way straight to the berth. It was a pity to leave your cozy nest beside his neck, but a thought about the place even better where you would soon find yourself convinced you to keep your complaints unsaid. Sitting on his palm, between his thick fingers, you suddenly realised how small you actually were - it wasn't like you didn't know it before, but such situations still hit you hard. And so the more heartwarming it was for you to know that, being so gigantic, he didn't ever tried to cause you pain. And something was telling you he never would.

- Ready, Y/N?

- Yeah... - You got up and laid a quick smooch of gratitude at his red cheek. - Thank you, Breakdown.

- Don't mention it. - He smiled softly. - You would do the same being on my place.

After that his mouth opened before you, awaiting. Sighing, you ducked right into the warm, pulsing grey cavern. Now you could truly relax.

The glossa bent down to make it easier for you to get comfy inside the maw. Tingles of pleasure were wandering around your back as it was gifting you with careful, gentle licks. Dump air weighted your body with lazy drowsiness while sticky transparent saliva soaking in your clothes made you nice and slick. As it often happens before sleep, your brain unexpectedly came up with an idea that if your relatives could see you now, they would all instantly fell unconscious. And it was the first thought which finally made you giggle.

The muscles came to life, pushing you further, to the dark entrance of the pharynx. You laid limp as they affectionately hugged you, tugging you forward... Breakdown swallowed. What a nice feeling - to be dragged into a warm blanket of your friend's throat! His muscles could turn your bones into dust in no time. His dents could chop you into bloody mess back at the watering chamber above, but you was cared for, adored... loved. Every gentle contraction of the flexible metal muscles signalled about it. You was sliding down, down, down... Thumping sparkbeat was booming calmly somewhere nearby, white noise of engines was ringing in your ears...

You had been already at pure bliss as you arrived inside your friend's spacious fueltank.

- I hope the ride was good. - The mech's words reached you, distant, yet close like echo. - I'm going to recharge too. Don't hesitate to wake me if you want out.

- I think, it won't happen any time soon, big guy... - You mumbled, curling up in a ball and cuddling with glowing walls surrounding you. It was already extremely hard to not doze off, especially with those lulling, happy gurgles and groans burbling around. - Sleep tight.

- You too, Y/N...

It was the last thing you heard before falling into the peaceful world of dreams...

[wild-karrde]

One Step at a Time - Part 15

Master List | Previous Part | Next Part

A/N: I have been SO EXCITED for this chapter, and also INCREDIBLY NERVOUS, but HERE IT IS! As always, thank you to the stupendous @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta reading this for me!

Chapter Rating: M

Warnings: language, mention of suicide, mention of character death, grief

Word Count: 8.4k words

Chuckles didn’t go back to the Starlight.

He didn’t have any idea where his feet were carrying him until he slid onto a stool in the tiny excuse of a cantina the settlement had. As far as he knew, the place had at least three different names, and he’d never been certain which one was the official one. It always seemed to reek of death sticks and sweat, and it attracted mostly miners, leaving smears of dust from their boots across the floor. It wasn’t much, but the camaraderie and feel of the place reminded him of 79s, although the clone bar had definitely been cleaner, even on its worst days.

He wasn’t sure why he’d come here. Throughout his training and the war, he’d had more than enough medical droids warn him against drinking with a concussion, and he’d been stupid enough to ignore that advice only once. The worst hangover of his life combined with the exceptionally loud ass-chewing Crater had given him were enough to ensure he never would make that mistake again. His captain hadn’t normally been one to raise his voice, but he suspected the volume of the reprimand had been part of the punishment. 

Maybe he wanted to be around people, to blend into a crowd. 

Unfortunately, the place was mostly empty. 

Should have guessed that. Could have if my head wasn’t throbbing. 

Only two other patrons were there, tucked into corner booths. Normally, you couldn’t hear the music coming from the rundown player in the corner, but tonight, the notes easily carried across the cantina, cutting through the silence even at their low volume. 

Chuck chose a seat at the far end of the bar, away from the other patrons. He hadn’t gotten a good enough look to determine who they were, but he didn’t want to sit close enough to encourage conversation. Just because he wanted to be around people didn’t mean he actually wanted to interact with them. 

He just didn’t want to feel alone. 

Even with the concussion, he was thinking clearly enough to know he wasn’t ready to go back to the Starlight, to the kids he didn’t have answers for, to the sheets that still smelled like the woman that had just told him killing those kids and the use of inhibitor chips were justified. 

Did she actually say that though?

Chuckles folded his hands and stabbed his thumbs into the crease between his brows, his eyes squeezed shut. 

Stop trying to give her an out. 

He’d always been one to try and justify, to rationalize someone’s bad intentions away in favor of some less malicious reasoning. Crater had teased him about his optimism, but if he was honest, the majority of that optimism had died with Crater and most of his squad. 

But this was Endi. She loved kids, or she at least seemed to tolerate them better than most. She loved to teach. She baked the best desserts he’d ever had. Sunlight sparkled in her eyes and her laugh sounded like music. She was gentle and kind and soft and sweet, and the person he believed her to be simply did not match the woman he’d sat next to tonight. The two women were incompatible in every way, and yet they were the same, and no amount of spin or mental contortions would change the fact that she was a danger to Arni and Nita, a danger to him. 

How did I not see it?

His mind was still churning when he felt someone sit down next to him heavily. He ignored them for a moment before he felt a nudge in his shoulder. 

“I expected a better welcome,” Anj croaked. “You’d think I hadn’t almost died today.” 

He huffed mirthlessly as he tried not to stare. Anj’s head was wrapped in a wad of bandages that hid one eye. The other eye still glittered brightly but sported a massive bruise around the socket, and the cut on her cheek had been bandaged. The arm she had injured was in a sling, and he could see that two of her fingers were splinted. Every movement she made felt slow and carefully calculated, and he’d seen enough injured brothers to be able to see what body parts she was favoring or trying to keep away from scrutiny. In his estimate, she had at least a few injured ribs as well, an ankle that was giving her trouble, and she had all of the same muscle soreness he did. 

If she noticed him tallying her injuries, she didn’t comment. Instead, with her good hand, she slid him an unlabeled green bottle across the worn wooden bartop.

 “It was Lu’s. He kept the strongest stuff in town.” She sighed, her voice breaking slightly. “‘S not strong enough for this, though.” 

Chuckles rolled the bottle between his hands, examining the amber liquid inside. He wasn’t certain she wanted him to ask how she got it. So he didn’t.

“I can’t drink this right now.” He tapped his temple. “Concussed.”

She scoffed, taking the bottle back. “More for me then, I suppose.”

A glass of water brushed Chuckles’s knuckles, and he glanced up to see the barkeep standing on the other side of the counter, watching him carefully. He’d never been certain what species they were and figured it would be rude to guess, but they were at least visibly humanoid, a handful of centimeters taller than Chuck with dark skin and even darker eyes. Their shock of pink hair was woven into tight braids that hung down their back to their waist, and silver piercings sparkled from their nose and ears. They went by Mona and normally, they met their patrons with a smile and joke, but tonight, he could see sadness and sympathy in their eyes. 

Word’s gotten around about what happened.

“Thanks Mona,” he rasped. 

“Let me know if you need more. Anything for you, Anj?” 

The Nautolan raised the bottle she was drinking from wordlessly, and Mona took it, sniffing before wrinkling their nose. 

“I’d normally tell you to take outside shit back outside, but that’s Lu’s isn’t it?” 

Anj nodded, her eyes falling to the wooden bartop. 

“His stuff always could take the lining off your stomach,” Mona said softly, their deep voice suddenly more gravelly. “I’m sorry.”

Anj just nodded again, and Chuckles could see her swallow hard, her teeth digging into her lower lip as her thumb rubbed over the bottle. Mona met Chuck’s eyes one more time before slipping out of view. 

“How’s Hells?” Chuckles asked, hoping the news would be good enough to bring Anj up a little.

“She’ll live. Lost a lot of blood, but we… we got her there in time. A few more minutes, and we’d be having a very different conversation.” 

Chuckles fought off a shudder at the possibility that they’d eluded. 

She’s alive. She’s ok.

“She may never walk unaided again though.” The statement was forced out through gritted teeth, and Anj’s voice broke on the end of the last word. 

“But she’ll walk,” Chuckles said softly. 

“Yeah. Yeah, she will.” Anj rasped with a soft, pained laugh. “Once she woke up, she was already chattering about what sort of cane she’d want, and how I shouldn’t worry because it will make her that much more interesting.” She took a swig from the bottle, hardly flinching at the harshness of the liquor inside. “Her first thought was to comfort me, as if I was the one that almost lost her leg today. As if I was the one that almost bled out in her arms.” She sniffed. “Like I always say, she’s a kindness I never accounted for in my life.”

“Petal?” Chuckles prompted after a moment.

Anj sighed, dropping her voice low as if someone might hear. “The first time she… she touched my face, it was so gentle. I flinched because of my previous partner, but Helly was slow and patient with me. She never pushed me, but it made me want to let her have more of me.” She paused. “There was a tree on one of the small islands near where I grew up on Glee Anselm. I can’t even remember if the island had a name now, but I remember the tree. It would bloom every spring with these pale pink blossoms, and towards summer, it would drop the petals when the wind would pick up. My sister and I loved to run and dance in them when it happened, and that sensation of the petals grazing my cheek, that’s what Helly made me think of the first time she touched my face. So, she’s Petal to me.” 

“Execute Order 66.”

The memory of the tree in the Jedi temple gardens slammed into Chuckles, and tears leapt into his eyes. He swallowed hard, burying that moment of peace and the violence that had followed. 

“That’s… that’s really beautiful, Anj,” he croaked out. 

“So is she,” the Nautolan replied, seemingly not noticing his turmoil or chalking it up to the day they’d both had. 

They sat in silence for a while. Chuckles had a million questions he wanted to ask Anj, but he wasn’t sure if now was the time. She was clearly grieving, and the day’s events had taken a toll on them both. 

But I need to know. I need to know so I can protect the kids. 

“Why’d he do it?” 

The question was out of his mouth before he could overthink it. The Nautolan didn’t meet his gaze, locking her dark eye on the shelves at the back of the bar as if the half-empty bottles were suddenly the most interesting thing in the universe. 

“What makes you think I know?” Her tone was slow, deliberate, just like his had been when he’d been trying to disentangle himself from Endi an hour before. 

“Hells said something in the mine. That she didn’t think he’d do something. That you both didn’t think it.” 

Anj shrugged, taking a drink before answering. 

“Helly was delirious with pain. She didn’t know what she was saying. Surprised she could even get a coherent sentence strung together.”

“Anjii.” Annoyance flared within Chuckles. He leaned closer, dropping his voice low. “I need you to tell me what you know. I need to keep my kids safe, and I can’t do that if I don’t have all the information. I need to know what you know, otherwise you’re putting Arni and Nita in danger.”

Anj said nothing for a moment, but a muscle in her jaw ticked in anger. Her eye darted around the bar one last time, ensuring no one was listening to them before she lowered her voice. 

“I’ve done a hell of a lot to keep your kids safe, Chuckles. More than you’ll ever know.” Her unbandaged eye finally met his, piercing even in the dim lighting. “And I did it without you having to tell me anything you didn’t want to. Even though you didn’t trust me fully.” 

Chuckles shrank back in his seat, his heart thundering in his chest. Anj’s expression softened as she took his reaction in. His mind raced, rapid thoughts bouncing off the pounding throb behind his eyes.

She knows. We have to get out of here. 

He stood. Anj’s good hand clamped around his forearm. 

“Sit,” she hissed. “If you run now, you’ll only make this worse. There’ll be questions. Now, sit.” 

Chuckles stood still, his mind scrambling to pull a stream of logical thoughts together, but panic overwhelmed him. 

What does she know? Who else knows? How long do we have?

“Sit. Down.” 

He sat. 

Anj watched him for a moment before casting another cautious glance around. She leaned in closer, her voice slightly above a whisper.

“The day we helped move the kids down to the hold, Arni ran back up to get one more thing out of the bunk. Now, I was holding the last armful of knick-knacks, so that struck me as odd, but kids sometimes have things stashed, so I thought nothing of it. They came back a few minutes later with something shoved up under their shirt. I didn’t press, but they stumbled on the last step, and that metallic something clattered out onto the floor. I turned, and they were hurriedly shoving it back out of view.” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “I’ve seen many weapons in my time, Chuck. Several of the variety they were carrying, although never up close.”

Their lightsaber. She saw their lightsaber.

Chuckles felt like the bottom of his stomach was going to drop out. His mind frantically raced, trying and failing to come up with a believable explanation as to why an eleven-year-old would have a Jedi weapon.

“Anj-”

She raised her hand to cut him off. “I turned away, and as far as they know and as far as I’m concerned, I never saw it. Got it?” 

He nodded, unable to formulate words. 

Her eye was flicking over every centimeter of his face, taking in his reaction, watching him process the new information. Finally, she spoke again. 

“I need you to understand that you can trust me. That there is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you and your kids safe. Hells knows too. I couldn’t keep it from her. She knows me too well. But there are people that you’re close to that wouldn’t do the same.”

“I know about Endi,” he said quietly. 

Anj’s mouth drew into a thin line. 

“Ah,” was all she said. 

“I mean, I didn’t know, not until tonight,” he stumbled. “I thought… I don’t know what I thought, but it wasn’t that. I just… that’s why I’m here. And not at home. I don’t understand what happened, and I don’t have answers.” He scrubbed his hands over his face before tugging gently on his mohawk. “Why didn’t you tell me about her?” 

A look of guilt clouded Anj’s features. She rolled her shoulders, rolling the bottle between her hands. “Thought you’d see it on your own eventually. And I wasn’t sure how to intervene without telling you what I knew. I wasn’t sure how you’d react to me knowing something you didn’t want me to.” 

“It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you, Anj,” he rasped, his throat suddenly tightening on him. “I wanted to. The kids love you and Hells. I just… the last place we were at, I told people. And then those people had to lie for us, and that put them in danger. And I… I didn’t want to do that to you.” 

“You wanted to tell her.”

“I did,” he gritted out. “Almost did tonight. Thank the Maker she told me where she stood first.” 

Anj was quiet for a moment. “There wasn’t much about the war that made it out here. Lots of folks have to just believe what they see on the feeds. That’s all we get out here.” 

“You know better.”

“I do. But I wasn’t always on Lothal.” 

Chuckles paused. “You said you saw… a weapon like Arni’s before.”

Anj nodded, taking another deep pull from the bottle, drawing her lips back from her teeth in a grimace as the liquor burned her insides. “I did. Was in Chaleydonia on Christophsis when the war broke out. The Separatists moved in quick, and then there was a siege and a battle, and I decided I wanted no part of it, so I headed for Lothal. Seemed like it wouldn’t see much action, and my bet paid off. Well, until now, I suppose.” 

“And that was enough? To make you see things differently about the Jedi?”

Anj shrugged again. “I don’t claim to understand the ins and outs of everything that happened politically at that time. But I do know what the Jedi meant to people. Growing up, we were taught that they were peacekeepers. The stuff of legends, really. And regardless of how much of that was true or not, I don’t see how killing off all of them did anyone a lick of good.” She shivered slightly, and her grip tightened around the bottle, now only about half full. Her voice dropped even lower. 

“I’m no fan of the Empire. Wasn’t that big on the Republic either, but they at least felt like they tried at times. The Empire just seems keen to get as much power as they can and quash any naysayers. And all that about the Jedi? I don’t know everything, but I cannot imagine a galaxy that would be better off without Arni and Nita existing.” 

Chuckles’s vision blurred, and his voice cracked. He sniffed hard. “Me either.” 

He felt Anj’s eye on him and turned to meet her gaze. More questions were looming in her expression, and he could guess what they were. 

You can trust her. You know you can. 

He took a deep breath. 

“My chip didn’t work,” he said softly. “I was still in service at the end of the war. I’d gone to the temple to see someone, and that’s when all hell broke loose. I-I saw them, my brothers, killing Jedi, killing children.” His hands were shaking, and he folded them together, clasping tightly to keep the tremors in check. “I found the kids and got them out. At first I thought… I thought it had to be Seppies. That they’d gotten ahold of clone armor and snuck in. There was no universe in which I could fathom them doing that.”

“So the chips were real?”

“I think so. Never got any official confirmation, but when the order was given, there was a sharp pain in my head, like something trying to activate, crazy as that may sound.” His fingers drifted up to graze the place on his scalp where he’d felt that stabbing pressure that day. “I just… they’d never have done that, Anj. Not without something making them.”

“Why didn’t yours work?”

He huffed a laugh. “The only thing I can figure is too many concussions. I’ve come down on that place on my head at least twice. Best guess is I’ve damaged it. So I kept my wits about me by sheer dumb luck.”

Anj chuckled quietly. “So your concussions saved your life. And theirs.” She extended the lip of the bottle towards the rim of his water glass. 

“It’s bad luck to toast with water,” he mumbled. 

“You think we haven’t used up all the bad luck today?”

Chuckles huffed at that, clinking his glass of water against her bottle. “Luck didn’t have much to do with it.”

“Oh, I think we’re luckier than you know,” Anj said softly. 

The Nautolan sighed deeply, clearly still wrestling with how much to tell him. Finally, she gingerly turned, fishing a piece of folded flimsi out of her back pocket and placing it on the bar top. She drummed her fingers on it, still thinking until finally, she let out a long, slow exhale. 

“Judging by the fact that you’re still sitting here and not halfway to hyperspace, I’m going to assume you’ve decided to trust me with your secret. At least, I’m hoping you’re not going to kill me after we leave here.” Her lip was curled into a nervous smirk. 

“Thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. Plus, I think I still like your odds, even with one arm in a sling,” he joked with a pained wink. 

Anj relaxed slightly. “Right. Well, then it’s only fair I put my trust in you.” She tapped the paper. “This was in the breast pocket of the shirt you had on. Hells was still clutching it when they brought her into the med tent.” 

His brow furrowed in confusion. “I didn’t have anything in that pocket.” 

“It’s from Lu.” 

Chuckles’s blood pounded in his ears as his brain raced back to the moments just before the explosion. He remembered Lu’s expression, the way he’d awkwardly patted Chuck’s chest, just above the pocket. 

“Karking hells,” he swore quietly. 

“I’m going to tell you what I know about Lu,” Anj continued, as if she hadn’t heard him. “And then you and I are gonna read this together. I tried. I couldn’t do it. It’s addressed to you. And I just can’t do it.” 

Chuckles nodded slowly. “Alright.” 

Anj studied the bottle between her hands, and he could see she was steeling herself for what she was about to share. He propped his feet on the bar stool and faced forward, occasionally glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. He knew she’d speak when she was ready, and he didn’t want to stare at her or the folded note sitting next to her elbow. Finally, she spoke, her voice gravelly and grief-stricken. 

“Lu was like you and I,” she rasped tightly. “Has a past he’s running from. His homeworld was one of the first to have the Empire clamp a manacle on it. Entire cities occupied with patrols in the streets, picking people up for silly things like being out past curfew. Lu and a few others didn’t take kindly to that and raised a bit of hell about it. Most of his friends got locked up, but Lu had his twin sister Cilli and her family depending on him, so he managed to get out and ran here. He’s been lying low, sending money home to Cilli and her kids. They were close. Real close. Their parents died young, so they’ve been looking out for one another ever since. Cilli’s second pregnancy was so hard, and her man cut and ran when things got tough, so Lu stepped up.” Anj paused to take another swig from the bottle, wincing slightly. “Someone got a message to Lu yesterday. The Empire found out Cilli was getting credits from him. Not sure how. He was so careful, running the credits through all sorts of different places to make sure it didn’t trace back to him. But someone figured it out, and the Imperials classified that as conspiring with a traitor to the Empire. Apparently they take their treason quite seriously, and they raided the house. With detonators.” 

She paused to let out a shuddering breath. 

“The kids were inside, and they didn’t care. Kids. Gone in an instant. They were closest to the door. As you can imagine, Cilli didn’t take it lying down, not after seeing her babies die. From what it sounds like, she went out with a blaster in her hand and a curse on her lips.” 

Anj’s head was down, her tendrils hiding her face. Chuckles could still hear her quivering exhales. The blood was drained from her knuckles, and it was a wonder the bottle in her hand hadn’t shattered in her grip.

“I commed Lu to give him a heads up about the inspectors yesterday, and when he didn’t answer, I went over to check on him. He’s normally pretty responsive, so it struck me as odd. When I got there, I could tell right away something was wrong. He was quiet, more quiet than usual, but there was a tremor in his hands and an anger I could just feel rolling off of him. I finally pressed enough for him to tell me, and when he started talking, it was like he couldn’t stop the words. I told him to take the week off, to not do anything rash. But the minute I saw him today, I knew he hadn’t listened.” 

Chuckles chewed the inside of his cheek as he turned the information over in his head. He certainly understood that anger that Lu had felt. There had absolutely been days where he’d felt the losses so deeply that he’d considered burning everything down. 

The difference is you didn’t. Because your remaining brothers would have faced the consequences.  

“Anger and grief are a deadly combination,” he murmured bitterly. “Keeps you from thinking clearly. And that’s when you put the other people you care about in danger.” 

Anj’s head snapped up, and her eye pierced into him fiercely. 

“Watch your tongue.”

He glared back at her, taking a sip of his water. “He brought the damn shaft down on us, Anj. He almost killed us too. I get his anger, trust me, I do. But I would never have done something that could have gotten others I cared about hurt.”

“And Lu didn’t either,” she snarled under her breath. 

“How do you figure?” 

She sighed, picking at the edge of one of her bandages. 

“I didn’t know the reason for the inspection until this morning. The new shaft was pushed for by the Empire in order to meet their quotas, so they provided small mining corporations with some of the construction materials as incentives to expand. Every screw and strut and gear in that shaft comes from Imperial factories, and apparently, that means they’re built by the lowest bidder.” She scoffed angrily. “Jerrno got notice from some of his partners that the inspectors were coming to look at the construction of the shaft. Apparently, they’ve been making the rounds, claiming shafts aren’t being constructed properly, but they’re just covering their own asses. The beams we were supplied with can’t hold what they’re spec’ed to. Another mine saw a collapse last month, and the inspectors came out and blamed the corp and their construction processes. But when they tested out a few of the extra beams they had leftover, they found the struts didn’t even come close to being as durable as they were supposed to be.” 

Chuckles nodded slowly as she met his gaze once more, her voice quieter. 

“Lu was the best damn demolitions expert I’ve ever seen. He could blow a mite off a massiff without waking it up. He had no way of knowing about the fucking beams. Teef was filling me in right when Lu walked in.” Her voice broke. “You think what you want, but I believe Lu just wanted to take out the shaft and inspectors, not bring the entire cliff down on us. That collapse was far too uncontrolled for one of his explosions.” 

Her fist tightened around the neck of the bottle, and the muscle in her jaw twitched angrily again.

 “They weren’t even going to tell us about the beams. The inspectors just strolled in this morning without so much as a ‘hello’ or ‘fuck you’. They were just gonna tell us it was our fault. Probably still will.” 

She drained the bottle, tossing it into a bin at the back of the bar before she turned to face Chuckles again. 

“Lu didn’t almost kill us, but the Empire sure did.” 

Chuckles let out a long, shuddering breath. All of the anger and resentment he felt leaked out of him, and grief swiftly settled into its place. Of course Lu hadn’t meant to hurt them, not the Lu that had held Nita’s hand or listened to Arni babble on for hours, not the Lu that had quietly showed up with furniture for the kids’ room and watched with a quiet smile as they squealed over it. There was almost a relief for Chuckles, to let the pieces fall into place and find that the Nikto he’d known was the same person he’d always thought he was, the confirmation that Lu was the Lu he’d seemed to be. 

It still felt as though he’d lost two people today, Lu and the Endi he thought he’d known, and he grieved them both. Tears streamed from his eyes, and he wiped at them hurriedly, sniffling hard. 

“I’m so sorry, Anj.” 

“You had no way of knowing,” she croaked. “I just… I know he’s going to get branded as a terrorist, an unhinged and dangerous and cruel man.” 

It’s already happening, Chuckles thought, Endi’s words echoing in his mind. 

“But we know better,” Anj continued. “We knew him.” 

“We did,” Chuckles agreed. Quietly, he reached over for the note. Anj didn’t move. Taking a deep breath, he unfolded the paper. 

Chuck,

I can’t give this to Anj or Hells. They’ll know immediately and stop me. So I’m sorry, but it has to be you. I know you may not get my reasoning, and that’s fine, but I know you’ll understand wanting to keep loved ones safe, and the anger that comes with failing at that. Tell Anj I’m sorry, but I can’t let it stand. I’m sure she’ll tell you why, about my sister. All that I had in this galaxy was spilled on Cilli’s front stoop. I can’t stand for it, but I can damn sure fall making my point. 

I don’t know how Arni and Nita came to be yours, but keep them safe at all costs. I’ve taken your name off the roster for today and for the rest of the week. Left a note for Jerrno that I didn’t want your name involved, especially being a clone. I’m confident that’ll be enough, and Anj’ll see that it is.

You and your kids are special, a symbol of hope in a galaxy turned on its head. I hope they have the future I wanted for my kin. See that they do. And see that Arni keeps that laser sword better hidden. 

It’s better this way. I know too many names and too many places, and I can’t have any more blood on my soul. Tell Anj and Hells I’m sorry. I hope they’ll forgive me and know that they were the family I chose. You all were. 

Lu

“That shithead did see,” Anj breathed over Chuckles’s shoulder. “He was right behind me, that day on the ship, but I stepped in front of Arni, trying to hide it better.” She choked out a laugh. “Never reacted, and had a perfect sabacc face about it when I probed later. Karking asshole.” 

“The roster?” Chuckles managed to grit out around the emotions that were overwhelming him.

“I’ll see that it’s handled,” Anj said quietly. “And I’ll testify to whoever that will listen that Lu acted alone, that he’d been nursing anti-Imperial sentiment for a long time, but we never thought it’d get this far.” 

“Anj, I can’t ask that-”

“You’re not askin’. I’m telling you how it’s going to be. Maker alive, Lu wasn’t stupid, but this was impulsive and short-sighted and driven by grief. He planned all these contingencies, but he didn’t really think this through. And now, here we are, picking up the pieces and trying to stay safe while he fucks off into whatever afterlife he believed in.” Chuckles could see her moving through her grief, allowing some anger at her friend to finally show. 

“It won’t even take them long to fix that shaft,” she snorted. “A few months at most, even if we replace all the struts, and we’ll be right back down there. I know I told him to not do anything rash, but if he’d… I’d have…” She took a deep, steadying breath. “I’d have at least helped him make sure it counted for something.”

It was then that Chuckles saw it. Anj sat back, her unbandaged eye glistening with unshed tears, and yes, there was grief there, but more than that, there was betrayal. She’d thought Lu would reach out to her, would allow her to help him when he needed her most, and instead, he’d gone alone. 

“He kept you safe by keeping you out of it,” Chuckles rasped, reaching over and gripping her hand. She tried to yank it away, but he held on tightly. “And for that, I’m grateful, Anj. Because I’d have done the same.”

“I doubt that,” she snorted, wiping at her eye with her good hand. “Even as reckless as you are.” 

Chuckles was quiet for a beat before he folded his hands in front of him. “When I was a pilot, I lost a lot of brothers. Pretty much my entire squad once. I got out by the skin of my teeth. A pilot’s death isn’t like a normal soldier. We don’t bleed out slowly on some battlefield. It’s rare we even get a shot at a medic. If a ship’s done, it’s done, and in the middle of a fight, it’s not like you can take it to a hangar for maintenance.” 

He felt Anj watching him, and he pressed on slowly. 

“Sometimes, when your ship’s damaged and there’s no hope of you making it home, you do something reckless. You do what you can to steer your fighter and take out as many of the bad guys as you can. It’s not an official thing we’re trained to do, but many of my brothers did. Of course they knew it wasn’t always guaranteed to do much. Sometimes, you’re just a spec of flame on the side of a much bigger battle station. But the thing is, you hope that at a minimum, someone will see it happen, will see you doing everything you can with the moments that you have left, and you hope that galvanizes them.” He ran his thumb along the edge of his water glass. “I think Lu knew as well as you do that it wouldn’t take them long to rebuild, but I think what he hoped is that we’ll be galvanized by what he did. We’ll see what the Empire did to him and his family, and we’ll see his final act of defiance, and we’ll carry that spirit with us and spread it.” He tugged lightly at his mohawk. “I’ve been hiding for the last year, worried that if I stepped into the fight again, I’d put my kids and those around us at risk. But now… I don’t know.” 

“I don’t know either,” Anj said quietly. “But what I do know is I’m not sure I can let it all stand. Same as Lu. But I haven’t an inkling of where to start.” 

Chuckles took another sip of his water. “Right now, I think the best thing we can do is keep Lu’s memory and message alive,” Chuckles whispered. “Let the anger and the grief pass so that you think clearly. And then you wait.” 

“Wait?”

He nodded. “The opportunities will come. We start small. Maybe someone like Lu or me needs a job, and we help them get one and cover their tracks. Maybe some expensive equipment goes missing.” 

Anj chewed her lip, and he could see her thinking. “Maybe someone with a lot of pull finds out about the construction materials in the mines.” 

“Maybe,” he agreed. Grief was still the main emotion in his system, but Chuckles could feel something sparking in his chest, like a nearly-dead ember being blown upon. He hadn’t felt that spark in over a year, but it felt good, right even. 

Maybe I’m finally on the right path. 

He could feel a similar energy radiating off of Anj. The slump in her shoulders had disappeared, and a hint of her usual smirk was tugging at the corner of her mouth. “For Lu,” she said quietly, holding out her pinky finger on her uninjured hand towards Chuckles. 

He grinned. 

“For Lu,” he promised, locking his pinky with hers. 

“But tonight, we rest.”

“Some of us do,” he corrected her. “I’m not supposed to sleep much.” 

“I don’t know that either of us will do much of that,” Anj said quietly, some of the sadness seeping back in. “But we can still try.”

“We can.” Chuckles pushed his stool back from the bar, standing carefully. He folded the flimsi back up and slid it back to Anj. “You keep this.” 

She nodded wordlessly, taking the note between her calloused fingers and rubbing it gently. “Don’t come ‘round the mine until I tell you it’s safe, got it?” she whispered.

“Yes ma’am.” He gently clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Take care of yourself. And give Hells my love. Let us know if there’s anything we can do.” 

“When she’s better, can you bring the kids around?” Anj asked quietly. Chuckles could hear the emotion she was holding back. “They always make her light up.” 

“You got it,” he said quietly. 

She nodded. 

“‘Night Mona!” Chuckles called over his shoulder. He thought he heard them call a soft response, but he was already out the door.

He wasn’t sure if it was the water or the conversation or his headache finally fading a bit, but a determination had settled into his chest, one that he hadn’t realized had been lying dormant in the year since the war. He wanted to do something, even if he wasn’t sure what that was yet. 

But we’ve got to be safe. I can’t put the kids in danger. 

But what am I teaching them if we just keep running and hiding?

How to survive.

But what if they want more than that? 

His mind was still wrestling with itself, even as he made his way home, his feet carrying him back to the Starlight as if on autopilot. The interior of the ship was dark and quiet, and he could still smell the dinner he’d shared with Arni and Nita hours ago. The familiarity of it all brought a sense of relief, and he was suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. He kicked off his boots with a sigh, shutting the hatch behind him. 

Home. But maybe not settled. 

His eyes burned, and he ground the heel of his hand into them, huffing a quiet laugh.

One step at a time. 

A soft shuffling sound broke him out of his haze, an incongruence from his expectations that jarred him just enough to draw his attention. His eyes snapped to the co-pilot seat. 

Arni was sitting in it, wrapped in the heavy blanket from his bunk. They clearly hadn’t anticipated him coming home, but their sharp brown eyes quickly scanned his face, absorbing everything as usual. He was too tired and overwhelmed to try and hide his feelings anymore tonight.  

“Why are you up, kid?” he asked. 

They shrugged. “Woke up and couldn’t fall back asleep.” 

“Nita?”

“Out. She was pretty tired.” 

Chuckles nodded, trudging over to the pilot seat and plopping into it. He let his gaze drift out the front viewport to the stars, taking in the mountains and the soft glow of the town, suddenly less welcoming than it had seemed when he’d woken up this morning. 

Maker alive, morning feels like a lifetime ago. When Lu was still here.

It wasn’t all threatening. There was good in the little town still, but there were also threats he’d let slide past his defenses, and now more than ever, he needed to be cautious.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Arni said softly, interrupting his thoughts. 

He sighed heavily. “Me too, kid. I’m sorry I scared you like that.”

“Wasn’t your fault,” they replied, hugging the blanket closer around them. 

“Is that why you can’t sleep?”

They nodded. “When… when we first heard about the explosion, I knew there was a chance you were gone. So I started trying to think of what we’d do, Nita and me.” 

Chuckles’s heart shattered. 

“I figured I could probably keep doing repairs, and maybe Grinz would let me help out at the store for some credits,” they continued. “I just needed to find a way to keep us fed until I was old enough to go into the mines. I think we could have made it work.” They turned to look at him, their eyes shining with tears. They gave him a small smile. “I’m glad we don’t have to though.”

Chuckles slid out of his chair, kneeling in front of Arni and pulling them into a tight hug. 

“I’m so sorry, Arni. I’m so sorry,” he whispered. His chest swelled with awe at the young Twi’lek and their selflessness, but the fact that they thought they were alone again, that they’d have to take care of Nita on their own tore at him. He bit back a shuddering sob, rocking Arni back and forth. He felt a damp spot form on his shirt where their face was pressed against his chest, and their fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt. 

“I’m right here, kid. I’m alright.” 

“I know. I was just scared.”

“That’s allowed.” 

After a few minutes, they released him, wiping at their nose and eyes. Chuckles shifted back in the pilot’s seat, sniffling back his own emotions. 

“Why didn’t you stay at Endi’s?” Arni asked quietly after a few moments. 

Chuckles turned his head to look at them. They were watching him intently, gathering data from his reaction to the question. And that’s when it dawned on him. 

The wariness. The hesitation. It all makes sense. 

He sighed deeply. 

“You knew, didn’t you? About her and how she felt about… about it all?”

Arni’s eyes dropped to their lap. They nodded. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Another shrug. “You seemed happy. And you deserve to be happy.” They met his gaze. “I thought you knew.” 

Chuckles stared at them for a moment before scrubbing his hands over his face, tugging lightly at his mohawk. 

“Arni, there is no universe where I’d want to be with someone like that. That thinks like that.” He sighed again. “Whoever I’m with, I want it to be someone that I could eventually trust with our secrets. Endi and people that see the galaxy the same way will never fit that category, understand?” His voice cracked, and he did his best to keep the anger and grief he felt at bay.

They thought I’d put someone like that above them.

Arni nodded again, meeting his eyes. “Maybe you can convince her.”

Chuckles huffed at the suggestion. “Nah. I don’t want to be with someone that I have to convince that killing children was a bad idea,” he joked dryly. “Or that putting chips in me and my brothers’ heads was wrong.” He shook his head, releasing a mirthless laugh. “I just can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. I’m such a kriffing idiot.” 

“You’re not,” Arni said quietly. “You wanted to see the good in her. And I can’t fault you for that.” They pulled their skinny legs up to their chest, wrapping their arms around their knees. “Being alone is hard. I don’t want you to feel alone, Chuckles.” 

“I’ve got you and Nita. I’ll never be alone.”

“That’s different and you know it,” they countered. “I saw how you looked at Teacher Endi. I’ve never seen you look at anyone else like that.” 

Chuckles blew out a long breath through his mouth. 

Dark curls. Sharp eyes. A twist of a smirk. 

“There was someone else that I looked at like that. A long time ago,” he said quietly. 

“What were they like?” 

He glanced over at Arni. They were watching him intently with wide eyes. 

“Only if you want to talk about them. I’d like to hear,” they added. 

Chuckles nodded, letting his mind drift back to the garages of Coruscant. 

“Her name was Brienna. We called her Bri for short. Well, Bolts mostly. She was a mechanic that worked on our ships. Deep, brown eyes that felt like she knew everything about you from just one glance, dark, wild curls that she always was blowing out of her face. A smile that could light your whole day up just before she ripped you a new asshole. Maker, she was so smart and quick. She was short, but she acted like she was ten meters tall. Took no shit from anyone.” He realized his cheeks were hurting from how big he was smiling. He hadn’t let himself think about Bri in a long time. Not really. But it felt good. 

Arni was smiling too, as if Chuckles’s joy was infectious. “What happened to her?”

The smile on Chuck’s face faded. 

“Not sure. I was going to see her on the day the war ended. We’d been seeing each other in secret, keeping it casual. She didn’t want the other pilots to think I was getting special treatment, so we didn’t tell many people. I’d promised to take her to dinner when the war was over and court her properly. And then… well, you know the rest of that story.” 

“Did you love her?”

Chuckles chewed the inside of his cheek. “Yeah. Yeah I did. Was thinking of telling her that night.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Chuckles met Arni’s eyes again. “I’m not. I got you and Nita out of the deal.”

“But you never got to tell her.”

He sighed again, shrugging one shoulder. “That’s true. But I’d like to think she knew. And I almost hope she thinks I died. Better that than her thinking I was a child killer or a mindless drone that offered the Republic up on a silver platter.” 

“That’s still sad.” 

Chuckles tucked his hands behind his head, carefully propping his boots up on the flight console of the ship. 

“It is, but I was lucky that I got to experience love like that, kid. Not many of my brothers did. There were some that tried to make things work, but it was hard. You knew tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed, and if you found someone to share your life with, there was a good chance you might leave them behind. Not to mention a good portion of the galaxy didn’t see us as people in the first place. I was lucky to have Bri, even if it was brief and didn’t end the way I wanted it to.”

“Do you miss her?” 

Heat crept up to Chuckle’s cheeks, and his eyes stung slightly. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “When I think about her.” He looked over at Arni. “I think you would have liked her.” 

“What if we tried to find her?”

He forced a smile, touched by Arni’s hopefulness and desire to find someone that meant so much to him. But he didn’t share their optimism. 

“It’s a nice thought, but I wouldn’t even know where to start, kiddo.” He reached over and squeezed their shoulder. 

“I’m alright. I’m sure she’s moved on already. And I want her to be happy, you know?”

Arni appeared to contemplate this for a few moments. 

“You should be happy too.”

Chuckles’s smile came more naturally this time. “I will be, kid. It hurts a bit right now, but I will be happy. Don’t you worry.” 

They sat in silence for a while longer, watching the stars together. Finally, Chuckles could hear Arni’s breathing deepen, punctuated by the occasional soft snore. As carefully as he could, he gathered the Twi’lek in his arms and made his way down to the hold, doing his best not to trip over the toys that were scattered around. Nita was still dozing quietly, her trooper doll tucked close to her side. Chuckles tucked Arni back into bed gently, waiting a few minutes for the confirmation that they were still asleep, and when he heard another snore escape them, he smiled, sneaking back to the cockpit. 

It had been a while since he’d slept in the pilot’s chair, but it felt fitting tonight. He considered what he’d do with the sheets that still smelled like Endi as he retrieved the brown bottle of mystery liquor from its hiding place and sat back down heavily in the weathered seat.

Maybe just a little. There isn’t that much of it left anyway.

Sorry, Crate.

The burn of the booze felt nice and familiar, warming his insides and taking some of the edge off of his feelings. He knew he had to come up with a reason to end things with Endi, one that didn’t create suspicion or out him as an enemy of the Empire. He also knew he’d likely have to carry on the charade for a while longer. He’d acted strangely enough tonight that ending things immediately may make her suspicious. 

He hated this. 

“Now’s just not a good time for the kids. Work’s getting to be too much, especially with what just happened, and I don’t think that’s fair to you.”

No, that lets her counter it. 

“I’m not over the last person I was with. I’m not ready to move on yet. I thought I was, but I’m not.”

That could work. 

It wasn’t exactly untrue now that he thought about it. How many times had flashes of Brienna invaded his mind while he was with Endi? How many times had he almost called her the wrong name?

Maybe I was just trying to find someone to fill that space for me. But no one was ever going to be her.

Chuck glanced over at the now-empty co-pilot chair and noticed Arni had left their sketching supplies in it. Leaning over, he picked up a loose piece of flimsi and placed it on the top of their journal before reaching for a pencil. 

He started with her eyes. Those were her most striking feature, in his opinion. He could get the shape right after a few rough attempts, but never could seem to capture the light in them or the sharpness, the way they’d always felt like they were pinning him down. He moved on to her nose, which proved easier, and then her lips. He couldn’t quite get their fullness right or the permanent skeptical quirk her mouth always seemed to have, but what he finally came up with felt somewhat acceptable. The curve of her jaw was easy enough from memory; he’d touched that place on her enough to never forget it, cradling her face when he’d kissed her, running his fingers along it as she slept. 

Her ears were impossible, and he eventually compromised by deciding to cover them with her hair, but even that wasn’t right. The curls were mostly the right shape, but he couldn’t get them to sit right against her face, nor could he add the shine they always seemed to have. As his frustration grew, so did his level of inebriation, and at some point he tossed the paper and pencil aside with a huff, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders and grumbling to himself before eventually drifting off to sleep. 

Brienna’s loud cackle and brown eyes haunted his dreams. He could almost feel the rough fabric over her coveralls beneath his fingers, smell the oil and grease on her skin. 

Bri. 

Even with the concussion, Chuckles slept through the night, too overcome by exhaustion to worry about protocol. When he awoke in the morning, the paper and pencils had all been cleared away along with the empty liquor bottle.

Tag List: @redheadgirl @cyarbika @witchklng @djarrex @arctrooper69 @sleepingsun501 @ladytano420 @rexxdjarin @echos-girlfriend @zoeykallus @leftealeaf @galacticgraffiti @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @ariadnes-red-thread @goblininawig @merkitty49 @ladykatakuri @runforrestr @baba-fett @daimyosprincess @obihiddlenox @bucketbunny99 @fordo-kixed-rex @nerd-ika @amish---paradise @arctrooperechy