#oh and there's a reference to a woman waiting on the planet to play chest with the doctor

[weird-tea]

So you know in the episode Listen with Orson Pink stranded on a mysterious planet at the end of the universe? And there are all those spooky noises outside? Yeah according to one of the audio dramas that Jack Harkness & River Song just fucking with him.

I do not know what to do with this information. It is simultaneously the dumbest explanation ever but also makes way too much sense for the Doctor Who Universe.

[alfredosauce50]

Passengers

[America x reader] 01

Wordcount: 2, 575

Synopsis: After his hibernation pod malfunctions and wakes him up 90 years ahead of schedule, he grapples with the morbid reality that he has to live out the rest of his days on a space ship. He spends a year in complete isolation before losing his mind.

During an episode, Alfred encounters another passenger and falls in love with them. As an engineer, he has everything at his disposal to wake them up. Then he wouldn’t be lonely anymore. But that would mean taking their life--and he does it on a whim.

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: This is a crossover with the film Passengers (2016). I do not own the plot.

The reader is referred to as she/her.

Passengers - 01

Lost in space

The cold infinity of space. A never-ending void of black nothingness. It sounded terrifying when put like that, but it was also a sea you could sail through with the right ship. From Earth to a Homestead II, it would take you 120 years on the Avalon.

The magnificent silver cruiser was a thousand meters long and oscillated through space like a wave. Inside slept 258 crew and 5000 passengers, their bodies resting in hibernation pods. Nothing could disturb them, not even the gentle hail of asteroids.

They smashed against the ship’s front shield in muffled explosions before crumbling away into tiny rocks. And from the inside, not a sound. But the same couldn’t be said for bigger bogeys, with one just so happening to drift in for an imminent collision.

When it hit, the Avalon gave a deep shake. 

The lights in the passenger pod room shut off one by one, but all came on after a brief second. If only that had been the extent of damages done to the Avalon. Several error diagnostics popped up in the command room, showing issues from all over the spacecraft.

All were eventually fixed by the self-repairing system.

All but one. 

A hibernation pod lit up in a warm yellow as others stayed dark. A mist flurried inside, oxygenating the body that lay within. When it cleared up, the person was revealed to be a young man in his late twenties. He had short, sandy blonde hair parted to one side and an athletic body. Aside from his career demands, he must’ve worked out regularly to maintain it. 

Alfred F. Jones, a mechanical engineer from the US.

And to revive him, a particular procedure took place. Three vials of liquid were injected into his shoulder. He was then shocked in the chest, causing his torso to rise and fall in a loud thump. Now that his heart started beating again, he breathed his first breath. 

“Good morning, Alfred.” A female voice greeted him. When he fluttered his eyes open, he saw a hologram of a woman peering down at him. And like all normal people, he responded with the following.

“Wait, what?” He grabbed at his pod, eyes widened.

“It’s perfectly normal to feel confused. You just spent 120 years in suspended animation,” She explained. 

“What?” 

“It’s alright, Alfred. Just breathe,” His pod hovered across the room to a checkpoint, which completed a more thorough examination. As of now, he was only at 2% recovery from his sleep. “Everything is okay.”

“Where am I?” He asked hoarsely.

“You’re a passenger on the starship Avalon, the Homestead Company’s premier interstellar starliner. We’ve nearly completed the voyage from Earth to your new home. The colony world of Homestead II.”

Pictures of a lush planet, a spitting image of Earth at her prime, played before him like a slideshow.

“A new world. A fresh start. Room to grow.”

“Oh, yeah.” He smiled contentedly, eyes closed. Now that she mentioned it, everything came back to him. He left home with a dream, to rebuild society from the ground up. And this time, without messing up.

“The Avalon is on final approach,” The images were now of a bar, pool, and bustling grand concourse. “For the next four months, you’ll enjoy space travel at its most luxurious. Food, fun, and friends.”

“My friends.” He sighed dreamily.  

“That’s right, Alfred.” The woman smiled, lifting her arm to reveal a metal ring. He glanced down to find his, an economy class identifier. “The ID band on your wrist is your key to the wonders of the Avalon.”

He scanned it when prompted, hearing a chime.

“You’re in perfect health, Alfred. Let’s get you to your cabin, where you can get some rest.” She finished.

He made a short journey to his room, but it took way longer than it should’ve. The ship was by no means small, and he was by no means feeling well. By the time he got to the hall, he had a searing headache. As he reached up to it, hissing, he heard over the announcements that he may be experiencing what was the most common health ailment of his time.

Post-hibernation sickness. 

It would take a few days before he’d feel like himself.

“Welcome to your cabin. Your home until we make landfall,” The same voice piped again. The woman appeared as a full-body hologram by the wall, and as she spoke to him, he faced her with a slight hunch. 

The home in question was a small gray room with a single bed, desk, closet, and bathroom. All the basics you’d expect in a studio. It wasn’t much, but he was betting on the rest of the ship to make up for it. 

“Over the next four months, you’ll prepare for your new life on Homestead II, meet fellow passengers, and learn about colonial living. You’ve been assigned to learning group 38 for passengers with engineering and technical trade skills.” She explained. 

That was right. As good as the Avalon looked, he didn’t come here for a holiday. He was relocating for his job. In a world as new as this, opportunities were as plentiful as the strokes of grass in Spring.

“Please scan your ID to confirm luggage delivery.”

His suitcase rolled out onto a shelf, but all he did was scratch his head, deep in thought. He could build his house out of scratch, too. A two-story cabin meshed between some trees sounded pretty sweet.

“Alfred,” She craned her head at him, brows raised. 

Only now did he scan it, finalizing his onboarding. 

“To help you recover from hibernation, be sure to drink plenty of fluids,” She instructed. 

The jetting of liquid was heard, turning his head to the sound. He saw a cup filling itself up with clear, pinkish fluid at a water station. He came over and gulped down the contents, parched out of his mind. 

“Enjoy the rest of your voyage on the Avalon, a Homestead company starship.” The woman beamed.

And enjoy it he did.

The first thing Alfred opted for was a hot shower. And damn, did it feel good. It only seemed like yesterday that he was in his cubicle back at home, but his body relished every warm drop of water. 

With one arm propped up against the wall, he hung his head under the constant spray of it.

“It’s a beautiful morning here on the starship Avalon. Whatever you do, don’t get homesick,” A man spoke over the in-built radio. “Get Homestead. Let’s start things off with one of my favorites back on Earth.”

He jogged to the bathroom mirror, fully dressed with a brown bomber jacket. Nodding at his reflection, he left to go seize the day. But not a moment passed before he stepped back in to get a second look.

“No.” He took off his jacket and threw it over his shoulder for a cool pose. “No, that’s stupid.”

He sighed and wore it like normal.

“Just own it, Alfred. You’ve got a cool jacket.”

He walked out of his room without it, rubbing his hands awkwardly. Now to learning group 38. But when he got inside the theater, it was completely empty. Did he misread the timetable, perhaps?

“Hello passengers. Will you all please take a seat?” Passengers, she said. Alfred glanced around again, but didn’t take long to find a spot on one of the benches. Not that any of them were occupied. 

While the holographic instructor did her rounds, he began to wonder if he was in the right place at all. 

“Welcome, learning group 38. Your introduction to colonial life,” She began. “Earth is a prosperous planet, the cradle of civilization. But for many, it’s also overpopulated, overpriced, and overrated.”

He stuck up a hand. 

“I’m sorry, I think I may be in the wrong…”

“Hold all questions till the end, please.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“The colonies offer an alternative,”

“Where are all the other…” Alfred trailed off and bowed his head as she merely spoke over him. 

“A better way of life. And there’s no colony more beautiful than Homestead II, the jewel of the occupied world,” She gestured to the landscapes behind her, but he couldn’t be taken by them.

“I’m sorry,” He laughed sheepishly, unable to keep it to himself any longer. “Where is everybody?”

“We are all on the starship, Avalon.”

“But I’m the only one here.” He replied, confused.

“There are 5, 000 passengers and 258 crew members.” She answered in a monotone.

“So why am I alone?” He frowned.

“We’re all in this together.” 

Alfred felt his stomach drop. He had a terrible feeling he couldn’t shake off, and to confirm it was just that, a feeling, he needed to see a human representative. He left the theater in a panic and ran down the halls.

“Hello? Is anybody here?” He shouted. “Hello?”

But like every other place he’d gone so far, they were completely empty. Not a soul was onboard with him. Or, at least, it looked that way. Everyone else was tucked away in their pods, fast asleep, but him?

Alfred got inside the elevator and jabbed the button for ‘grand concourse.’ He sat on a bench and started bouncing his leg. In his delirium, he missed a vital instruction until he felt a direct consequence of it.

“Huh?”

Floating. He twisted around mid-air, only now just finding the unbuckled seatbelts under him. This day couldn’t get any worse--until his elevator arrived, slamming him against the ground in a heavy thump. “Agh—!” He got onto his feet and rubbed his nose after it took the brunt of the fall. “Fuck.”

He walked out into a giant gallery, which lit up in a warm glow upon sensing his presence. A fountain even started flowing, another indication he was the first of his kind. Nobody had been here before him. 

“Hello!” A help station greeted. “Welcome to the grand concourse aboard the Avalon. Can I help you?”

“I need to talk to a person,” Alfred ran over, eyes wide and chest heaving. “A real live person, please?”

“What sort of person?” It asked, popping up icons one after the other. A person lifting weights, another holding a suitcase, then one with a clipboard. “Personal trainer? Travel planner? Therapist?”

“I don’t--I don’t know. Someone in charge.”

“The ship’s steward handles passenger affairs. It’s on level three of the grand concourse.” It replied.

He didn’t hesitate to go there, and when he got to the office, all he saw was an empty desk. He tensed up as reality began settling in, but for the sake of his sanity, he would deny it for as long as he could.

“Not good.”

Alfred returned to the grand concourse.

“Hello!” The help station greeted again. 

“Who’s flying this ship?” He jogged over.

“The flight crew, the captain, the pilot, the chief—”

“—Captain. I want to speak to the captain.”

“The captain rarely handles passenger queries—”

“It’s an emergency!” He blurted. “Please.”

He used the elevator again, this time remembering to buckle up. Once he got to the command ring, he ran to a giant spherical door. This was the bridge, where the highest commanding officers congregated. And in other words, his last resort. If anybody was awake, it had to be the people flying this thing, right? 

Alfred attempted to open it with his ID.

“Bridge access requires special authorization.”

He scanned it again, hearing a low ‘ba-bum.’

“Bridge access requires special authorization.”

He stepped forward and peered through a tiny slit, his movements hurried. Maybe if he alerted the crew inside, he’d be able to talk to them. Only he didn’t see anybody inside, just a dark room with glowing panels. So he stepped back, reaching up to his head.

“You gotta be kidding me.” He winced.

Alfred was running out of options. With nobody else to turn to, he went out on a limb and found himself in the observatory. The room darkened and projected a beautiful hologram of a galaxy around him.

“Welcome to the observatory. What can I show you?”

“We’re supposed to land soon?” He tilted his head back to watch the stars and clouds of cosmic dust float about. But instead of wonder, all he could offer was a strained grimace. “I’m the only one awake.”

“I don’t understand. What can I show you?”

He thought for a moment.

“Show me Homestead II.”

“Homestead II is the fourth planet in the Bhakti system.” The galaxy zoomed into one spot, revealing the colony world he’d seen in all the posters. Little did he know, that was the closest he’d ever get to it.

“Right. And where are we?”

“We’re in transit from Earth to Homestead II. We will arrive in approximately ninety years.”

“What?” He uttered.

“We arrive at Homestead II in 90 years, three weeks, and one day.” The narrator elaborated.

“No, wait.” His heart sped up as he came to his worst epiphany yet. “How long ago did we leave Earth?”

“Approximately thirty years ago.”

What he saw, what he heard, they all pointed to one harrowing explanation. Out of the 5258 souls aboard, it happened to him. Hibernation failure, a concept completely unheard of until now. 

“I woke up too soon,” He spoke faintly.

Alfred ran to the computer room. If he didn’t figure something out, he could kiss everything goodbye. His dreams would have to take a backseat. At this point, he didn’t know if he’d even see land ever again.

“How do I send a message to Earth?”

“Interstellar messages are sent by laser array. This is an expensive service,” The help station explained.

He ran past it, glaring over his shoulder.

“Bite me.” 

“Happy to help!”

Taking a seat in front of a large monitor, he scanned his ID band to turn it on. The screen booted up.

“Planet and connection?” 

“Earth. The Homestead Company.” 

“There are 30, 826 contacts listed under Homestead company,” Thousands of names scrolled before him.

“I’m emigrating to Homestead II and I have an emergency,” Alfred explained quickly. 

“I have a customer helpline.”

The camera turned on, showing his face onscreen.

“Sounds about right.”

“Begin message.”

“Hi.” He began stiffly, swallowing thickly as he spoke. “I’m Alfred Jones. I’m a passenger on the Avalon. I think something went wrong with my hibernation pod. I woke up too soon. And I mean, way too soon. Nobody else is awake, and… I don’t know how to get back to sleep. And the thing is, there’s 90 years to go. At this rate, I’m… I’m sorry, I’m trying to fix this. I… Maybe I missed something? I could use a hand. That’s all. Thank you.” He pressed the send button.

“Message sent.” 

He paused, blinking. Was that it? 

“Outstanding.” He leaned in, brows raised.

“Message will arrive in nineteen years.”

“Wait, what?”

“Earliest reply, fifty-five years.”

“Fifty-five years,” Alfred repeated, truly and utterly defeated. He hung his head as he slid off the stool, eyes wide and disbelieving. He didn’t even bother tuning in for the hefty sum that he had to pay.

“We apologize for the delay. That will be $6, 012.”

If there was any way to fix this, he would have to do it himself. And he wasn’t the type to give up easily. Everything he’d ever done as an engineer boiled down to this. If he failed, this was his whole life gone.

Next chapter:

[tim-shii]

a promise of eternity

a/n: bad title game but here's a little jing yuan fic :blushes: i hope u like it omg

tags: kinda fem!reader, i tried to make it gn but the quotes n references from little women ><, mentions of marriage, elopement (no one is eloping *stares*), just overall fluff, oh yeah and uh shitty chess gameplay forgive me timmy has never touched a chessboard and its pieces in 19 yrs of her life (i steer clear of them)

"here for a friendly game?" jing yuan mused as he sees you walk through the entrance of the courtyard. the smile on his face dropping slightly as he caught eyes of your tired and annoyed composure. "why the long face?"

"father pestered me about a marriage again. does he never get tired.." he hears you grumble before sitting down on the opposite side of the table. "where's yanqing?" 

"not here. looking for a way out?" his eyes set on the chessboard as he responded.

"a way out of this chess game or a way out of a possible arranged marriage?"

"both." he grins up at you, tone light and playful as he leans on one arm, cross-legged across from you. you scoffed at him before picking up your pawn to move it forward. he hums, observing your movement before picking up his own pawn to move it two tiles forward. 

"i think it's quite obvious i was talking about the marriage, though." he gestures for you to make a move. 

"we both know i'd rather run away, take yanqing with me and live as mother and son on a planet far away." you sigh, still looking at the chessboard, carefully thinking of your next move. "then why haven't you?" jing yuan asks with a short chuckle, further leaning into the table on his hand. he doesn't seem to mind you taking time to make a move. "mainly because i can't just kidnap the boy. god knows i'll be a fugitive if i dare snatch up the youngest lieutenant in luofu." 

jing yuan lets out a laugh, watching as you continue to play. for a moment, he seems to be deep in thought. taking a deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks at you with a smug look. "i'm a general. i can just command the knights to let you go."

"don't bother. i'll figure it out on my own. i might even elope with the next man who interacts with me out of desperation." he smiles at your exaggeration before leaning in closer, the table in between being the only thing keeping you apart. 

"desperation, hm? do you even love?" 

"general, i care more to be loved than to love. a cowardly move, i know." you scoff, eyes looking at him curiously. why hasn't he made a move yet? if this game was timed, he would've lost already.

"can you even call yourself a knight, then? a coward who can't even stand up to your own father for what you want." the general's tone was cold and stern, somewhat mocking yet a miniscule smirk plays on his lips. years of knowing the gray haired man, you eventually get used to his sudden authoritative voice. 

"why be ashamed of what you want, right? father is a person i never dared to cross ever since. perhaps that fear of ever crossing him never did left me. the world is hard on ambitious girls. they hear of a woman not wanting to marry, best believe i'll be the object of their scrutiny."

jing yuan seems to be considering something. words on the edge of his tongue, waiting to be said. he picks up his queen and in the blink of an eye, your king was checkmate. the corners of his mouth tilted upwards in a small, cruel smile. "marry me. no one will dare talk to you in such a way nor will i let them."

you were speechless. at the game and at his words. it hasn't even been five minutes in and he's already won. you gape at him, eyes flickering up and down from the board to his face. 

jing yuan lets out a soft breath from his nose. he has the urge to just push the table away and be close to you but he doesn't. instead, his gaze softens along with his voice. "you don't have to answer now. just know that my offer will always be on the table." his voice was barely a whisper as he spoke, clearly wanting you to hear the sincerity of his words. 

"i'm afraid you're gonna have to wait a long time. i am a very indecisive person after all." you say after a moment of silence. the general leans more closer, torso hitting the table. "i have time. no matter how long it takes." he holds your hands with utter gentleness. as if one wrong move and you'll break and be gone. 

"and if it takes an eternity?"

"then i guess i'll wait for an eternity, then."

"and if life.. the world ends before you hear an answer from me?" jing yuan smiles softly before raising your hand and kissing the back of it. "i'll wait for you, still."

"you'll wait for me even in our next life?"

"i'll search for you and we can continue playing chess throughout our next life." jing yuan tucks a lose hair behind your ear, cradling your face after. thumb brushing over the apples of your cheek. you held his wrist with your palms, moving his hand to kiss his knuckles just like he did to yours.

"you have to promise me not to steal the pieces by then." he lets out a snicker under his breath. 

"i wouldn't dream of it." what a liar. but you know his promise of waiting is true. 

"shall we wager something? we haven't played chess with a bet at stake."

"i don't gamble, general."

likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist

[iam93percentstardust]

Prompt: tony can’t get enough of Steve’s strength and Steve loves it bc he’s still quite self conscious of his body? 💚

I realized halfway through writing this that you probably meant for a canon-compliant fic, but I was already so deep into the worldbuilding for this little science fiction fic (seriously, you don't even know how much unnecessary worldbuilding I did) so I kept with it

Also on ao3 here!

~

“Steve!” Tony hollers through the communicator. Steve glances up from the board game he’s playing with Natasha and Clint and over at where the communicator hangs from the ship’s wall. He still doesn’t really understand the technology behind the communicators even after a year of being awake, but they’re hung all over the Avenger’s Shieldand he won’t deny that they’re useful.

“I’m here,” he says at a normal volume, knowing that JARVIS will easily pick up what he’s saying and transmit it to Tony. Tony’s just being loud because he’s always loud and because he’s down in the engine room of the ship with all its noises from the conversion of stardust into energy.

“Great! I need your muscley goodness down here like yesterday.”

Steve hides a smile and stands, passing his pieces off to Clint, who’s losing worse than either Steve or Natasha. “Here, you can have mine. Not sure how long I’ll be down there.”

Clint’s eyes narrow and Steve tries not to fidget under the cybernetic enhancements. When he went into the ice nearly three hundred years ago, mankind didn’t even dream of space travel, at least not realistic space travel, and now they’ve got colonies on galaxies as far away from their own, it makes his head spin. Humans have peace treaties with over two thousand alien civilizations. And mechanical body enhancements, meant to augment humans for travel and work and sometimes sheer entertainment, are as common as breathing. But Steve, with his serum-induced enhancements, is somehow still the odd one out.

“You know,” Clint says, “you don’t have to help him out if you don’t want to. Tony means well but that doesn’t mean he can’t be abrasive sometimes.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve says truthfully. Everyone else on this ship seems to dance around his non-cybernetic enhancements—and around the fact that he’d been frozen in the ice caps, now stretching as far south as Florida, for three hundred years—but Tony never once seemed to care. He’s thrilled about Steve’s enhancements—no one else on the ship is quite as strong as Steve is, not since Thor joined the crew of the Milano—both because of what Steve can help him with and because of what the serum means for scientific advancement, though Steve hasn’t let Bruce or Yinsen take any of his blood yet.

He heads down into the belly of the ship, pausing once at one of the portholes to look out at the stars flashing by them. It still amazes him that humans have achieved all of this (and horrifies him that they achieved this but left their own planet behind).

Tony’s “lair” (as Clint calls it) is located at the very bottom of the ship. It’s here that Tony holds his court, making sure that the engines that run the ship are still intact and running smoothly, tinkering with other projects that the other crewmembers give to him, and designing improved systems for the Shield, whether that’s comms, mechanical, or even medical. Tony does it all. According to Natasha, Tony, who’s one of the few nonhumans on the ship, was once a member of high society on his home planet, Aur’a, but left it all behind to join the Shield and travel the galaxy.

Steve opens the door and is immediately met with a wave of heat. It’s always hot down here. Tony says it’s because of the celestial energy, that stars run so hot that even residue energy is still too hot for unenhanced humans to handle. Fortunately, neither Steve nor Tony are unenhanced, and Steve would be willing to bet that the reason it’s so hot in the engine room today is because Tony is working with raw stardust.

The copper pipes running the room are too close to avoid bumping into for someone as large as Steve, so he doesn’t even bother trying to avoid them, letting them brush against his skin as he follows the sound of Tony humming. When he’d first joined the crew, he’d been worried about Tony complaining that Steve couldn’t move around the engine room without knocking something over, but Tony has never once complained, only just made easygoing jokes about bulls in china shops and told him that the pipes are built to withstand forces a lot stronger than Steve. It had gone a long way toward helping him feel comfortable in the space and now he spends a lot of time down here, talking with Tony about the mechanics of the ship, even though a lot of it goes over his head.

He ducks underneath one of the pipes and rounds a corner to find Tony sitting on a bench, carefully chipping at a speck of stardust on the benchtop in front of him. Tony once told him that it only takes a miniscule amount of stardust to power the ship for an entire week, which is good because stardust is difficult to mine. Tony’s goggles are perched on top of his nose, giving him an owlish appearance. Steve finds it adorable, but he waits until Tony is done with the chisel before walking over to drop a kiss on top of his hair.

The rest of the crew doesn’t know that they’ve been seeing each other for a month. After their first kiss, Steve had asked if it would be okay to keep it quiet a little longer. Steve’s brain is still firmly convinced at times that they’re in the forties, so the idea that he can date a man and have it be as accepted as dating a woman is still a little foreign to him. Tony had been more than accommodating though, which is only one of the reasons Steve loves him so much.

“Oh!” Tony exclaims, clearly startled. “Didn’t realize you were already here.” He turns, pushing his goggles up to his hair. “Did you get even more muscley since the last time I saw you?”

“Tony, you saw me this morning,” Steve says amusedly.

“Right you are, Capsicle, but I still stand by what I said,” Tony shoots back with a cheeky wink. He runs his hands over Steve’s biceps, making a low purring sound under his breath. Steve just barely manages to hear it over the sound of the engines, and it makes him smile.

Sometimes, he still feels self-conscious about his size. Spending most of his life looking and feeling one way only to change in only seconds had been disorienting, and he hadn’t had much of a chance to get used to his size before he’d been thrown into the war and then frozen in the ice. Tony’s always good to talk to though when he needs someone to remind him that this is okay, that he isn’t taking up too much room just by existing. Somehow, he always manages to get to the heart of Steve’s insecurities and allay them.

He indulges in Tony’s warm touch for a little longer before asking, “So what did you need me for?”

Tony perks up, spinning on his heel and picking up the speck of stardust with his bare hand. “I need your help opening the converter door so I can toss this in. Something must have gotten damaged during the battle with the Hydra’s Scales, because it’s not opening for me.”

“Huh,” Steve says, following Tony through the warren of copper pipes toward the energy converter. He has no idea how Tony knows where he’s going without a map. Steve still sometimes needs a map and he’s lived on this ship for a year. “That’s not something you can fix?”

“Not with what I’ve got on ship. I’ll ask Fury if we can stop in Knowhere later this week. They’ve probably got what I need.”

“Wow, Tony Stark admitting he can’t jury-rig a solution from his lab. Hell must have frozen over,” Steve comments, grinning when Tony turns to scowl at him.

“You shut your mouth,” Tony growls.

“Or what?”

Tony’s eyes turn dark and heated. He slinks closer to Steve, runs his fingers up Steve’s chest, and purrs, “Or I’ll shut it for you.”

Steve’s brain shuts down. “Uh…”

“But not right now,” Tony says abruptly, tweaking Steve’s nipple through his shirt. He spins back around and marches off, leaving Steve floundering in his wake. He gapes after him for a second before hurrying to catch up.

“You,” he says, carefully bumping Tony’s shoulder with his—he doesn’t want Tony to drop the stardust after all—“are a menace.”

“That’s me: mechanic and professional menace,” Tony says cheerfully.

They stop beside the energy converter. Steve can immediately see what Tony means by there being something wrong with it. The converter is made out of some sort of transparent material—Steve doesn’t know what—so he can see right in to where something is twisted in the converter itself, partially fusing the door shut. Even Tony, with all his abilities as an Aurum, can’t reach into an active energy converter without burning his hand to ashes, and the converter has to stay active or they’ll be dead in space, so they’ll have to stop somewhere where he can make the necessary repairs.

“See?” Tony says. “I need someone who can muscle that open for me.”

“Well, I’ve definitely got muscles.”

“Mmm, yes you do,” Tony murmurs. Steve wonders if Tony’s thinking about the same thing he is: that time he pinned Tony to the walls of their shared bunk and—well, now’s not the time to be thinking about that.

He grabs onto the wheel and wrenches it to the left. Tony sure hadn’t been kidding; the wheel doesn’t budge at all. He applies more of his strength, muscles bulging. Under the squeal of metal, he hears Tony’s breath catch, and he grins saucily at him. Tony sticks his tongue out and gestures at the wheel again.

“Come on, Captain Crunch. Put your back into it.”

Steve, having no idea what Captain Crunch is supposed to be a reference to, makes a mental note to ask Tony about it once they’re done here. For now, though, he uses all of his strength and slowly—so slowly—the wheel turns, protesting the entire way. Eventually, he gets it open, letting another blast of heat into the engine room. Tony tosses the stardust in. It flares in the heat of the converter, setting off beautiful gold and purple sparks. Steve closes the door. It closes a lot easier than it opened. Tony hums thoughtfully at it.

“Well, that narrows things down,” he says, once the door is fully closed.

“What, that it was easier to close than it was to open?”

“Mmhmm. Only a few things that could be. Probably need to tell the One-Eyed Pirate though that we have to stop on Xandar instead of Knowhere. I don’t think Fujikawa will have what I need. Steve, don’t let me forget to tell Fury the course change.”

“Got it.”

“And thanks, by the way. Definitely couldn’t have done it without you.”

Steve glows at the praise. Maybe it’s silly, but it’s nice to be reminded that even in this oversized, clumsy body out of time, he’s still able to do some good. “Happy to help,” he says honestly.

They head back to Tony’s little work area, Tony eagerly chattering on about the project he’s working on for Natasha. Steve listens, fingers itching for the drawing tablet he’d left in the galley with Natasha and Clint. Tony is lovely when he’s animatedly talking about his inventions. Steve has half a dozen folders saved on his tablet, filled with nothing but different poses of Tony.

Tony leans up against the workbench and pulls Steve in, looping his hands around his neck. “Now, where were we earlier?” he hums, eyes dark.

“Careful,” Steve warns, bracing himself with hands on either side of Tony’s body. “I might crush you.”

“You might,” Tony agrees, though he doesn’t sound concerned at all. “And I might like that. All that coiled strength pinning me down? Oh, honey, yes.” He shivers, a small delighted smile curling his lips up.

“You just like me for my body,” Steve accuses. It isn’t the truth and he knows that. Tony loves him for many reasons; Steve’s strength is only one of them. But it’s fun to tease his lover and Tony is always happy when he does. He frequently worries that Steve is too serious.

“Yes, darling, that’s exactly it.” Tony kisses him lightly. Steve lets himself lean into Tony’s body a little more, grinning when Tony shudders against him.

He pulls away, tucking his head against the curve of Tony’s neck. “Thank you,” he breathes. He doesn’t know how Tony always knows when Steve is feeling self-conscious about his body, but he somehow does and he always comes up with something that’ll help.

Tony strokes his hair. “Anytime, darling. Anytime.”

[gaitwae]

"I would rather die a thousand times;" with loki please?

Warnings: argument, hurt/comfort, cringey crying, ambiguous ending.

Summary: You decided to ask Loki if the two of you could ever have a romantic relationship. Loki, who knows this question might be from some weird Midgardian infatuation instead, gets defensive.

Tags: @make-me-imagine @thorfanficwriter  @bwemph @myraiswack @rorybutnotgilmore @loki-snape-our-hero @wolfish-trickster @lucywrites02 @mostly-marvel-musings @winterfrostsarmy @superheroesandstardust @castiels-majestic-wings @geekns @lokis-high-priestess @natandersonnla @cozy-the-overlord @megthemewlingquim @frostedgiant @whatafuckingdumbass @thebookbakery @delightfulheartdream @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @the-emo-asgardian @amwolowicz

Happy ending! I’m sorry for the (mostly) angst!

+-+--

The sun sank low beneath the horizon long before Loki had said a word. You were biting at your nails silently. The god was yet to make his decision. Time dragged on and on, ticking along with the clock on the mantle. The sound it made was horrendous. The sound of silence would have been worse. You wanted an answer, but it would take years and years before the two of you could reach an agreement. 

You just wanted to know if there was a possibility.

“Loki?” you whispered. You couldn’t keep your mouth shut any longer.

“Hmm?” Loki picked up his head and faced you. He had that sad look in his eyes, again, his fingers curling nervously. “Oh, yes,” he said quietly. “I was still thinking, Y/N, I apologize.” He pulled his hands over his knees, then back over his thighs. “You really think that he’s out there, don’t you?”

“Who?” you asked, knowing exactly what he was referring to. You didn’t want to give in to his let-down — not when you still had some shred of honor left. You found your feet very appealing, suddenly. 

“That man; the ‘One,’ you’ve called him.” Loki heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head. He wiped his face. Your heart plummeted. Dipped. Your belly was set ablaze and your eyes felt scratchy. You knew what was coming. “Listen, I don’t know if we’d ever be… together, but I would feel much better if I knew your ‘One’ was still searching for you, too.”

“Loki,” you pleaded, “that isn’t fair.” You swallowed the tears down — if you cried now, it would show how weak you were — how much you relied on him. He would be scared off, wouldn’t he? Would he lose respect for you? Would he despise you? What would be the outcome? What would happen? “That’s not fair at all…”

“No, it isn’t,” he conceded. He turned his head away from you. You knew he couldn’t handle your tears well. His voice raised slightly as he continued, “But asking such a fragile question isn’t fair to me, is it?”

You felt the tears slip down. You wiped them away quickly, trying to regain your composure. “Loki…”

“Is it?” he snapped, causing you to jump. “Did you have to ask now, Y/N? Did you have to let your emotions get the better of you when we’re trying to escape this blasted planet?” With each word, more rage slipped into his voice, his tone, his whole manner. He was furious with you. You had upset him.

“Loki, I —” 

“Asking me to be your partner is out of the question! I would be dead first, Y/N! The situation we’re in, the pressure we’re under, I would rather die a thousand times than put our lives at risk for your silly fantasy!” He threw his hands down. You didn’t remember them flying so high. “Dying like a hero is far better than dying to protect your flimsy, mortal heart.” His chest peaked, then fell harshly. “You change so frequently; I’m surprised you even figured out that you wanted me. Perhaps it’s the thrill of danger, yes? The possibility of becoming a legend? An idol? Or is that too much glory for you? Are you hoping for rescue? To be saved like you had been taught from so young?”

You couldn’t speak. You didn’t move. You didn’t know how; after all, you hadn’t really been on the receiving end of his scolding. Well, that wasn’t really scolding. That was just… degrading. He was insulting you, peeling away your confidence layer by layer with a steady glare. He was angry — no, he was embarrassed — at your query. If you knew he would react this way, you would have sewn your own lips shut. You thought you could trust him. You wanted to trust him. You wanted that more than anything.

“You’re being cruel,” you pushed out. “You have no idea what I want.”

“I know you’re a small, witless child,” he growled. Loki stood from his seat. You ducked your head and stared at your knuckles. He grabbed your chin, jerking your face up without hurting you. “You’re simply an… an insect in the grand scheme of things who imagines greatness for yourself. I’m something you haven’t attained, that you haven’t experienced. You don’t want me for who I am, but rather what. Y/N, you’re a dreamer. That is why you follow me. Yes?” The god’s eyes searched yours with a frantic need. You clenched your jaw, removing his hand from your face. 

You said nothing.

“Answer me,” he spat. He dropped his arms, spreading his legs apart in a warrior’s stance. He was battling this topic more than you had imagined. Unless you were seeing things, Loki’s blue eyes were shining. His lips were tight against each other. Why was he losing his temper so? “Answer!” 

You kept your eyes focused on his; you wouldn’t say anything, you couldn’t, your tongue wouldn’t let you. Your knees shook. Your hands tingled. Your cheekbones tingled, too. Your throat hurt. Your nose burned. The longer Loki saw your tears, the wetter his own orbs became. Your body hadn’t racked with sobs yet, but they were waiting to erupt any moment. 

“Why could you possibly want a relationship with me, Y/N? I’m not yours to study, to toy with. Greatness cannot be the basis of love.” He looked between you and the door. His escape was too far away. The confrontation was hurting far too much — it was evident, written all over his face. “You can’t love me. Why would you?”

“Because you’re a hero,” you whispered. Your eyes followed him, but your limbs disobeyed every order to stand, to turn away, and walk out the door. Your last chance to spare your own feelings was slipping through the door. “If you weren’t, I would have been gone long before asking the question.”

“So… it is greatness,” he said quietly. “You want the persona.” He sniffed sharply, settling back into his chair. He raked his hands through his hair, once, twice, three times. He couldn’t sit still, but you still couldn’t move. “Not… me.” He wiped under his eye with his thumb. Finally, you understood why Loki was so offended by your question.

After all, who could ever love a man if he was a concept? What woman was loved wholly when the world focused on her beauty?

Your own heart shattered as you watched his crumble. Before you understood what was happening, you stood and walked to the prince. The forgotten prince. The prodigal son who had been thrown away, cast aside, and crushed like a cigarette under a boot. Once a bright flame, but quickly reduced to dying embers. Oh, and you had the nerve to ask him if there was a possibility of having his heart… you were like a child asking to hold something frustratingly delicate. 

You held his head, petting his hair for him. Your lip wobbled, as did Loki’s. He shook his head with agony. He buried his face in your body, clinging onto your hips with arms wrapped tight. You kept running your fingers on his head, scratching his scalp, and playing with his hair. His arms shook against your person. He tugged you between his knees to grip you better.

“I love you,” your voice came, echoing the ringing thought in your nearly empty mind. “I would love you even if you weren’t a god; I would love you if you lived under a bridge and smoked gasoline.” You tried for some humor. Loki’s fingers dug into your shirt. “Your greatness comes from your heart, Loki. Isn’t that what matters? Your heart?”

His shoulders jerked forward, the pace faster and faster as a heart-wrenching noise escaped from him. You tightened your grip on him. His sobs kept coming, over and over and over. They weren’t loud —  they sounded more like whimpers than anything else. It didn’t mean that the sound wasn’t enough to tear someone’s soul in half. It was tearing your soul in half. Seeing him like this… you didn’t know what to do other than to be his anchor. This was so unlike Loki; at the same time, this was Loki. 

This was every piece of hurt he had been holding onto for who knows how long. You had just found the weak spot in his armor. Loki loved you deeply and you could care less if it was platonic or romantic. Your stupid selfishness had caused a breakdown… 

Yet, it was healthy. He needed this. He needed this. 

You didn’t need an answer tonight. You didn’t need an answer for a while. 

This was more important. You’d rather die a thousand times than walk out on him in a moment of need.

The clock passed midnight long before Loki calmed. By the time he had stopped making that tear-jerking sound, the clock was seconds away from chiming. When he stopped shaking, it was almost one o’clock in the morning. You had moved to sit next to him then. Loki rested his head on your chest and shoulder. The only words spoken were your affirmations and your coos. For the Norns’ sakes, the crying was awkward; just by the way he stared off into space, you could tell he wouldn’t want to talk about this.

Ever.

“I’m sorry,” he said once it was over. “That wasn’t very… very heroic of me, was it? He laughed sourly. You continued to stroke his hair. “I wail like an infant and you’re still here…”

“I thought it was very brave,” you said honestly. “Breaking down in front of someone who might not truly love you? I’d just run away and hide.”

“You’re pushing it,” he mumbled, deadpan. “If this was me years ago, I don’t suppose I would have even let you see me like that. I would rather be dead, first.”

“I’m glad we solved something, tonight,” you told the giant in your arms. “But next time, I think we should talk about it slowly.”

“Agreed.” Loki closed his eyes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Oh, you’re excused,” you yawned. The clock ticked quietly. It was like a lure to sleep. You felt safe, squished in this seat with Loki. 

If someone wanted to take you from Loki, you’d have to be dead first.

[brokenbeskar]

Negotiator

Chapter Three of Memories Reforged ( Din Djarin x F!Reader )

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary: You finally make it to Nevarro to cash out your bounty, but end up revealing some details about yourself in the process  

Warnings: some talks of gender (Din mistakenly uses the wrong pronouns for you, you correct him later), suicidal ideation (reader was saved from death but wishes they hadn’t been) 

A/N:  you finally get to reveal a bit more of yourself in this one!!!  I hope you all like it! as always let me know if you see any mistakes or anything!

Somehow, you’ve never been to Nevarro. You’ve been to most of the Outer Rim at this point, but you’ve never stepped foot on this volcanic planet. You weren’t really sure what to expect, but two people waiting to greet the insufferable mandalorian you were traveling with, was definitely not one of them. 

“Mando!” The unfamiliar man extends his arms out in welcome as the ramp to the ship lowers fully, the shiny mandalorian nodding in response as he descends. “And how's my favorite baby doing?” The stranger leans forward to smile widely at the baby in the mandalorian’s arms and give him a little wave. The baby coos happily back at him, reaching out to mimic his wave. 

“It’s good to see you both alive and well.” The woman next to the both of them gives the mandalorian’s shoulder a rough pat, and he nods back in her direction too. Apparently that's the only way he knows to greet people back. 

You stand there awkwardly, but mostly surprised. He has friends? People who are happy to see him? You have been dreading every second you’ve had to spend alone with this reflective asshole, how could anyone actually enjoy his company? It's probably the baby. They only like him for the baby. Yeah, that makes more sense. 

“And who’s this you have with you? Care to introduce us to your friend here?” You’re snapped out of your thoughts and realize everyone is looking at you, the stranger man giving you a welcoming smile. You start to descend the ramp yourself so as to not be rude, stopping just besides the mandalorian you arrived with.

“He’s here on guild business. We’re splitting a reward.” He nods in your direction, but you're confused. Was he talking about you? Like...he nodded in your direction while talking about you, but ‘he’? It must have been a mistake. You ignore it and don’t say anything. 

“Splitting a reward?” The stranger man spits out, shocked. “What for?” 

“I ran into him on Jakku. He helped me take down the bomber and we agreed to split the reward in exchange for travel.” The mandalorian explains. You tilt your helmet up to look at him questioningly. First of all, you helped him? Oh he's got it all wrong, he tried to steal the bomber from you. And second, why does he keep referring to you as ‘he’? Suddenly it dawns on you--your helmet. He’s seen what you look like without your helmet, and you're half his size, but despite that he’s picking pronouns based on what your helmet tells him.

This helmet wasn’t made for you, it bears the masculine T shape visor, instead of the more rounded feminine shape traditional in mandalorian armor. It’s really the only distinguishing factor, mandalorian culture doesn’t really care for individuality. It doesn't matter who you are, just that you’re a strong warrior. Hell even all of the pronouns in mando’a are gender neutral. Well, you still don’t like him, but at least he’s respectful.

“Well, if that's the case, lets go inside to talk business. Forgive me for my lack of manners, I’m Greef Karga.” He turns to you, and places his hand over his chest as he introduces himself, before notioning to the woman next to him, “And this is Marshal Cara Dune.” 

You nod in return to the both of them, offering your own name readily. “It’s a pleasure to meet the both of you.” The both of them look surprised, confused you just gave your name, and that just confuses you. 

“Well, I guess we don’t have to worry about figuring out a distinction between the two of you now, do we?” Karga chuckles out. You just look between the two of them, then to the mandalorian besides you. Weren’t they friends? Did he never bother to introduce himself? That doesn't make sense to you. You decide to let it go for now, you’ll ask him about it later. 

You follow as Greef Karga leads the group of you through the city. It’s far nicer than you were expecting considering you know guild operations were being run here. There were bustling shops and children running and playing, the smell of food from nearby stalls filled the air. Colorful tapestries and awnings lined the streets, shops selling all kinds of fanciful wares.This isn’t what you were expecting at all. Cara’s marshal status must be no joke, she must be half the reason this place is running as smoothly as it is. She ends up having to part with your group halfway into town to deal with something. She’s polite when she excuses herself and makes a point to mention that it was nice to meet you before she heads out. She’s nice. Her strong exterior is only strengthened by her winning smile. You wonder how her and the mandalorian met, how they ended up friends.

The rest of your group makes it to the nearby cantina and settle at a table. The baby has fallen asleep in the pouch the mandalorian is carrying. You’re a bit surprised how nice it is inside, it's not a dirty grimy bar, but a more respectable establishment. This was clearly a place of business. 

“So,” Karga starts, “I understand you're a guild member, but I don’t recognize you.” He folds his hands together on the table between you.

“My usual outpost is on Carajam.” You explain as you pull out your bounty puck and slide it onto the table in front of you. The mandalorian next to you takes out his several pucks and puts them onto the table next to yours.

“Ahh, I see, Carajam. Quite the hub that one is.” he nods gathering the pucks infront of him, but pausing before he grabs yours. “Unfortunately, I can only cash out one of these.” He holds up the mandalorian’s puck for the bomber up, “So I’ll split the reward for this one between the two of you.” “Cash mine out instead.” You nod in the direction of your puck on the table. 

Karga raises an eyebrow at you, “yours? I’m sorry my friend, but there's no difference. The rewards are the same.” 

“Check it, they’re not the same.” You lean back in your seat, getting comfortable. Karga looks confused as he picks up your puck instead. He activates it, and looks down at the flickering image in shock. He notions to one of the guards stationed nearby and they appear at his side almost instantly with a holopad. 

“How did you get a commission price this high? On such a low level bounty too…” His voice trails off as he navigates through the menus of the holopad. 

You just shrug, “Just really good at catching bounties I guess.” You relax even further, leaning an arm over on the back of your booth. Your body language is oozing confidence. He just hums lowly to himself while he continues to fiddle around on the holopad. 

“I assume you use a different name for guild operations?” He looks up at you and you freeze. You haven’t had to mention your old alias in years. Your regular contact knows you well enough that you never have to supply it.

“I do. You can take it off my puck.” You try to keep cool, notioning towards the puck still sitting on the table. “It’s a guild bounty, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I wouldn’t be a problem if I knew you maybe.” He lowers the holopad and sets it on the table before leaning forward in his seat, “I’m sorry my friend, but this is my first time meeting you, I’ve got rules to follow you know. I need to verify that it's actually your puck, and not a stolen one.” You tense at the accusation, turning the gaze of your visor to the floor beside your booth. 

“This is ridiculous,” you spit out, “that's my puck, and that's my bounty frozen in carbonite. Just give me the reward.” You can’t help how defensive you sound. You really don’t want to say it outloud. It’s such a simple thing, but it feels too painful, and quite frankly you're embarrassed. Especially considering the mandalorian next to you. You realize you’re probably coming off as suspicious at this point, but you don't care. There's no way anyone could understand how difficult just saying the name he gave you out loud actually is for you.

“Look, I’m not trying to be difficult,” he reasons, changing his tone to try and sound more genuine, “But I’ll have to cash in Mando’s puck instead of yours if you won’t give me your registered name.” Your whole body is tense now. The confidence that once oozed off of you is gone. Your struggle to give up your alias is obvious to anyone, even with your helmet still on. 

Finally you sigh, you can’t afford to lose those credits. “It's Laar Sennar.” You breathe out, quieter than you want. You think maybe it was too quiet for anyone to actually hear you, but then you notice the mandalorian next to you, snap the gaze of his visor to you, and you know he heard. His gaze also confirms your suspicion that he knows mando’a. Of course he does, what mandalorian doesn’t?

“Thank you, Laar Sennar. See? Wasn’t so hard was it?” Karga smiles at you then picks the holopad back up to look you up. “And there you are!” He exclaims when he finds you and looks over your file. The smile on his face fades, and before he says anything you already know what he sees, “Oh, I’m sorry about your partner.” He looks up from the holopad and gives you a compassionate look. 

Despite knowing it was coming, it still stings in your chest. Just like your alias, no one mentioned him anymore unless by accident, and even that was rare. “It's fine.” Is all you can muster, but even that comes out short and forced, your hurt clearly audible in your response. You’re making an absolute fool of yourself, are these credits even worth it? You let out the lightest sigh. You’re not even sure it registers through your helmet’s modulator, but that would be for the best. 

“Well, now that I’ve confirmed this puck to be yours,” Karga sets a stack of credits on the table in front of you and the silent wall of beskar next to you, and splits them in half, sliding each in their respective directions, “here are your credits. Mando, here’s your reward for your other pucks.” He pulls out some more credits and slides them over to the mandalorian next to you. “Now in regards to new jobs, I’ve got a few options. However…,” he pauses as he shifts his gaze between the both of you, “Perhaps if the two of you were willing to work together again...I’ve got a bigger job I could give you.” 

“Bigger how?” The mandalorian next to you speaks for the first time in what seems like forever, and you're surprised this is what makes him speak. Was he actually considering working with you? The thought of being forced to work with him again sounds awful, it would take way more credits than Karga is about to offer you for you to take it.

“Sixty Thousand. For each of you.” You think you choke on air. Sixty thousand credits?! Suddenly working with this shiny tincan of a man doesn’t sound so bad afterall. Karga pulls out the puck and sets it on the table, “It’s not an easy job, you’ll have to work together to make sure he doesn’t escape, or you’ll be chasing him across the galaxy. Bit of a slippery one, this one is.” 

“We’ll take it.” You blurt out before you even discuss it with your newly established business partner. Sixty thousand credits is too good to pass up. You look up to gauge his reaction, but he's staring directly at you already. Shit, he’s going to decline it, you just know he is. You should have known, he probably hates being around you just as much as you hate being around him. You are each just a nuisance the other can’t quite seem to shake off. Much to your surprise however, he reaches out and grabs the puck off the table, pocketing it. A silent agreement. He accepted the job. Oh thank the maker. 

“It’s settled then! I’m only giving you the one job for now, come back to me when you’ve completed it and I’ll give you new ones. This one might take you both awhile.” Karga smiles brightly at you both. “Regardless, I hope the both of you will stay in Nevarro a bit longer? I can provide lodging if it means Mando here will grace us with his company awhile.” 

You go to respond, but ‘Mando’ himself interrupts before you even start, “We’ll only be staying long enough for a supply run. We’ll be gone by sundown. Could you have my ship fueled up before then?” 

Karga frowns at that, “Honestly Mando, when is it anything other than business with you? But of course.” He turns his gaze to you, “Well it was a pleasure to meet you, I hope to see you back on Nevarro soon.” He gives you a hearty smile, and you give him  a nod in response. 

“Likewise. Until next time.” You stand to leave with a wave to Karga and your new hunting partner follows out behind you. 

“I’m surprised you seemed so excited to take the job.” He states amusement seeping into his tone. 

“It’s like you said, Five thousand credits isn’t enough for a ship.” You shrug back at him. “Looks like we’re stuck together for a little while longer, shiny.” You continue to walk besides him passing through the main road of the city, scanning the shops for anything important. You stop at one shop in particular and start loading up on medical supplies, throwing them onto the counter. When the shopkeep tells you the price, you turn to look at your new business partner expectantly. “Well? You got paid out a lot more than I did.” You nod towards where he pocketed his credits earlier. “You turned in 4 pucks, I only had one.” You remind him. He grumbles something before throwing some credits over to the shop keep, and turning to leave before you can finish scooping up your goods. “You better be pitching in for fuel.” He grunts out as you catch up to him. 

“For a trip you would have made regardless if I came along?” You scoff, “Absolutely not.” He just shakes his helmet lightly, clearly frustrated with you. You continue on your way picking up supplies for the trip, there's three of you on one ship now, so you wanted to make sure you were prepared for anything. 

---------

“You know mando’a?” He asks suddenly while you're silently browsing a weapons stall, and it completely catches you off guard. You feel yourself tense up at the question, but you hope it's nothing obvious. 

“Bits and pieces,” You reply cooly, “As most who know it do. It’s a dying language after all.” You shrug, never turning to look at him as you lean forward and continue to look through the various blades and blasters laid out in front of you. You hope that will be the end of it, but he keeps going. 

“Your alias,” He starts, but pauses. You figure he's trying to find the right way to ask you about it, “Interesting choice.” Is what he settles on. You can’t help but let out an amused huff.

“I didn’t pick it,” you confess lightly, and you look ever so slightly over your shoulder to see he's staring right at you, waiting for you to continue. You stand up straight from where you were inspecting the weapons table, “It was given to me. A sort of…” you hum lightly to yourself trying to think of the words to describe it, “A sort of pet name I guess.” You smile underneath your helmet at the memory and turn to leave the weapons stall, deciding against getting anything.

“Pet name?” he questions, and the baby starts to fuss in the pouch on his hip. He pulls Grogu out of it, carrying him in his armored arm. The baby coos lightly as he blinks away the sleep in his eyes. You turn and tap the baby’s nose causing him to giggle, your new favorite habit you can never seem to resist. 

“Mhmm,” you finally reply with a nod. “Ner kih laar sennar…” You speak out wistfully looking out at the ashy sky above you, “My little song bird...that's what he used to call me.” You scoff at how ridiculous it sounds out loud in basic, kicking a stray pebble beneath your boot in embarrassment, but the smile under your helmet never fading. You remember the first time he said it to you, how it took your breath away. It sounded so beautiful in his native language, you craved to hear him say it everyday. “When I enlisted as an official guild member it was the only thing I could think of.” You can't help but let out a laugh, you remember it clear as day. Your guild contact had asked what you wanted to be registered under, and in your panic you just--blurted it out. You’ll never forget the way he turned to you in shock, or how relentlessly he teased you about it afterwards. You’ll never forget his confession, when he had admitted how he loved the way mando’a sounded coming from your lips, and how happy he was that was the name you chose for yourself. The name he gave to you.

You’re broken out of your thoughts and back to the present when the baby starts fussing again, whining and reaching out towards something. You turn your gaze toward what he's looking at, and it’s a large, seemingly handymade, frog toy. You immediately rush over to the stall, it's full of trinkets and miscellaneous items, but there were also a lot of things for children. You pick up the stuffed frog and hold it out to the baby in the mandalorians arms. He excitedly babbles and reaches to take it from you.

“You like this one, little bug? You think shiny here should get it for you?” you bounce the toy frog up and down in your hands as if you’re speaking through it and Grogu nearly shrieks with happiness, “yeah? I agree!” You nod and turn your visor to meet the mandalorian’s and you can tell he's annoyed with you. “Well? You heard the baby!” You scold, “Better hand over those credits quickly!” you turn back to the merchant after handing the toy to Grogu and pick out some  other children's toys. A small bag of blocks, some wax coloring sticks, and a colorful rubber ball that fits perfectly in your palm. “These too please,” you show the items to the merchant, and start to put them in your bag before something else catches your eye, “ohh! And two of these!” You quickly grab a couple wrapped candy bars, one for you and one for the baby.

If you’re being honest with yourself you don’t really want one, but you know this is irritating him. The fact you are so willing to spend his credits for him without asking, you can feel him seething with anger behind you...and you live for it. You turn to face him, “oh! I’m so sorry…,” you tilt your helmet at him pretending to be sympathetic, sarcasm oozing from your modulated voice, “did you want one too?” 

The beskar clad man says nothing, just threateningly towers over you while the baby happily coos in his arms. You can feel the absolute seething anger he’s exuding right now, and you're sure if you were anyone else, you would be terrified. Kriff, you probably should be terrified anyways, you’re about to be alone with this man on his ship for who knows how long, but he doesn't scare you. In fact, the threatening way his visor is burning a hole into yours just fuels you to keep going, “Make that three!” You nod to the merchant and grab another candy bar from the stall, before turning to leave and continue on your way. You can’t help but chuckle to yourself as you hear the shiny idiot curse under his breath before practically throwing the credits onto the merchants table and catching up to you. 

“I’m not made of credits.” He hisses out at you. 

“Oh, I know.” You nod in agreement. “But look how happy he is!” You motion to the baby who is absolutely thrilled playing with his brand new toy, a luxury he's been lacking for who knows how long now. “He’s worth every spare credit. Aren’t you, Bean?” You wiggle your pointer finger at him but he's too engrossed in his new plaything to notice. 

Making it back to the ship, you take the baby from the mandalorian and make a head start to the cockpit while he hands over even more credits to the one who's just finished fueling up the ship. You can’t help but snicker to yourself at your own mischievous behavior as you settle into your seat with the baby in your lap. You really just did that. This man was still a complete stranger to you and yet you just practically spent all of his newfound credits for him. That’s definitely payback for the sudden babysitting job he threw at you on Corellia, you guess you can call it even for now. Besides, how can anyone deny this precious little guy anything? You grab the floppy arm of the frog toy and wave it at the excited baby in your arms. 

The mandalorian eventually arrives back into the cockpit with the two of you, irritation still apparent by the way he not-so-subtly stomps his way to the pilots seat. He doesn’t say a word as he initiates takeoff, lifting the ship off the ground and making its way through the atmosphere. 

“You’re paying the next time we fill up.” He grunts out as he warps the ship into hyperspace. 

“Fair enough.” You nod, continuing to play with the baby in your lap, “I’ve had my fun.” 

“Oh, that's what you consider fun?” He sounds far less than amused and you can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips. 

“After what you pulled on me landing in Corellia? Oh yeah.” you nod again for emphasis. 

“Trying to humiliate me in front of my bounty wasn’t enough?” He turns his seat to face you. 

“Try to? Oh no, I definitely humiliated you.” you correct him, and you’re almost disappointed you still have your helmet on because he can’t see the sly grin proudly spread across your face. He just sighs and turns back towards the front of the ship. “Don’t worry though, I think we can call it even now.” 

“Thank the maker.” The utter sarcasm and annoyance he has for you weighs heavy on his words, and more than anything, it only satisfies you further. 

“Oh cheer up tin can! Here--,” You rifle through your go bag on the floor next to your seat and pull out the candy bars from earlier. You hold one out to him, “Here's yours.” 

“Keep it.” He doesn’t even look at it. Was he really that mad at you? 

“Suit yourself.” You shrug and tug off your helmet, tucking it next to you opposite of the baby. You open one and break it in half, giving one half to the baby, and wrapping the remaining half back in its wrapper. The last thing you need is to give this kid a sugar rush while you're stuck in hyperspace. You tuck it back in your bag, along with the one meant for the bitter loser next to you. You unwrap yours and take a bite when you realize--you haven’t seen the mandalorian eat once since you’ve been together. In fact, you haven't seen him take off his helmet at all. “When’s the last time you ate?” You take another bite.

“Last night. While you were sleeping.” While you were sleeping? Kriff this guy is weird.

“What? You don’t trust me enough to take your helmet off around me? We’re business partners now. I’m not going to kill you...not that the helmet would prevent me from doing so anyways.” 

“I don’t trust you,” You’re about to make a snide comment back in response as you take another bite of your candy bar, but he cuts you off, “But that's not why.” He never breaks his gaze from the cockpit window. Now you're confused, what the hell does that mean? 

“What's the reason then?” You question.

“My creed.” How he manages to answer your questions without actually explaining anything never ceases to piss you off. 

“Your creed?” you try to emphasize the confusion in your tone, hoping he will actually explain something to you, but he just nods in response. “What creed?” Maker, he is so absolutely frustrating. You put the rest of your candy bar away, no longer interested.

“The way of the Mandalore.” You’re hoping he will keep going, but you should have known better by this point. You truly have no kriffing idea what he's talking about. 

“What? So you won’t take your helmet off in front of me because you’re a mandalorian? That doesn't make sense. I knew a mandalorian, quite well mind you, and I’ve never heard of that before. He took off his helmet all the time.” This is only getting more and more confusing and his short responses are only making things worse.

“This is The Way.” He nods to himself as if he's making perfect sense. Only, he's not making any sense at all. 

“Is this...creed...the same reason your friends back on Nevarro don’t know your name?” He nods again. You just stare at him, confusion lined all over your face. This is nothing like any mandalorian you knew. Not that you knew many of them. You knew mandalorians were held by a creed, but you’ve never heard of it being that intense. “So okay…,” you look around the cockpit trying to think of a way to ask more, “I’m sorry, please explain this to me, I don’t want to be disrespectful.” For some reason, that statement is the one he decides is worth looking at you for. 

“To call myself a mandalorian, to wear the beskar, I took the creed as a child. Gave up my name, vowed to never show my face to anyone. A creed I must follow if I’m to continue to wear this armor, continue to be a mandalorian. It’s the reason I have to return the child to his kind. This is what it means to be a mandalorian, this is The Way.” He says every word like his soul rests in each of them. This is the most this mysterious man has ever spoken to you, and it’s with such a passion, such conviction. 

You’re almost afraid to ask anymore questions. As much as you don’t like this guy, you have a lot of respect for how important this clearly is to him. You know mandalorians are big on tradition, and they each had a pretty strict code of honor, the Resol'nare. To stop following that code, to stop being a mandalorian for whatever reason was to lose your soul, “dar’manda” it was called. But this? This was on a whole other level. 

“So...do--do all mandalorians take this...creed?” You try to ask carefully, you don’t want to overstep any boundaries you might not be aware of. This creed he took, it was clearly about secrecy, you weren’t sure if even asking about it might be going too far.

“I thought so…,” He looks back out the window pausing and taking a breath before continuing, “But I recently learned that wasn’t the case.” You nod in understanding, taking your gaze off him and instead to the helmet resting under your arm. 

“Thank you...uh for explaining…” You’re trying to sound genuine but you’re pretty sure it just comes off awkward. He doesn’t say anything and you feel like the silence between the two of you is suffocating. You’re used to quiet, it doesn’t bother you usually, but this? This kind of quiet was different and you hated it. Not even the baby was making noise, He was slowly drifting off in your arms, and you’re almost tempted to rile him up again even if it's only to save you from the stifling silence. Almost. 

“Your hunting partner,” His low modulated voice suddenly breaks the silence, and you would be thankful if it weren’t for the subject matter, “They’re the one that gave you your alias?” 

You nod slowly, still peering at the helmet under your arm. “That who you got the armor from?” 

“Yeah.” You nod again and you force a sad smile more at the helmet than the man speaking to you. Hunting partner...you could almost laugh. If only that's all he was to you, maybe it would hurt a whole lot less that he was gone. 

The mandalorian finally looks at you again, “Were you...an item?” It’s his turn to struggle in the same way you did, trying to ask his questions without being disrespectful. This time you actually laugh, it barely comes out, but it's there. 

“He was my husband.” You finally admit it to him, you aren’t sure why you’re finally comfortable enough to tell him. Maybe it's because of how vulnerable he was about his creed. 

“Your husband was a mandalorian?” What a stupid question

“Yes, yes he was.” You gaze out the cockpit window at the smear of stars flying past you in hyperspace. 

“That's why you keep the armor?” More stupid questions. Marker, this guy really was a dumbass. You left out a sad sigh. 

“His armor is all I have left of him. I wear it to remember him, to honor him.” Your gaze meets the visor already staring at you. The stars reflecting strongly off the top of his helmet. “I will die before I let anyone take it from me. I’ll take this beskar to my grave...a creed of my own I guess.” You shift your gaze to the now sleeping baby in your arms and slowly, gently, stroke the top of his fuzzy head. You haven’t spoken about your late husband out loud in--maker, you don’t even know how long. It hurts. Your chest is aching, still just as painful as the day he left you. “He died a warrior's death. Just what every mandalorian hopes for I guess…” You can’t help but sound bitter. You sigh, “I was supposed to die with him,” You admit. You aren’t sure why you're still talking, it’s not like he asked you. Maybe it's been too long since you’ve spoken about him, you just can’t help yourself, “But he saved me.” You shake your head, and take a deep breath. “I don’t know why he did, I never got to ask, I never got the chance to even argue,” You scoff, “I wanted to die with him...but he saved me.” 

The mandalorian next to you just continues to watch you as you pour your heart out. You wonder if he can tell how much it still hurts. How hard it is for you to talk about it, even after all this time. He doesn’t seem irritated, or bored, you can’t tell what he's thinking, but he's not stopping you, so you keep going.

“He was my whole life, my oathsworn, my riduur....” The mando’a doesn’t roll off your tongue in the same way it would when he said it, and maker, you wish more than anything you could hear him say it one more time. Hear him call you his Sen’ika, his cyare, mesh’la, anything. What you would give to hear him speak those sweet words to you again. “I was to stay by his side no matter where he went--and to me that meant even in death. I was prepared to follow him in death...but he took that from me, and next thing I knew I had to find a new life. I had nothing left…” 

You look back up to the man sitting next to you, and you suddenly feel sick. You can’t believe you just unloaded all of that onto him. You don’t know this man, you barely met him, you don't even like him, in fact you very much dislike him. Yet here you were, pouring your heart out to him about your dead husband. You feel like there's a blade in your gut, slowly turning as it gets pushed farther in. You’re utterly embarrassed. “Sorry…” You mutter out, shifting your gaze to the cockpit floor. You can’t bear to look at him. 

The mandalorian next to you doesn’t break his gaze from you. He must think you’re a fool, an utter fool, spilling your emotions onto the floor of his ship. Weak for letting your sadness sweep over you so easily. You figure he’ll never take you seriously now, throw it back in your face if you make a mistake. 

“Thank you.” He nods his visor slowly once, “for explaining.” you never expected to hear your awkward words said back to you, but as awkward as they sounded coming from you, they sound so genuine coming from him. A man who barely speaks. You meet the gaze of his visor once again, before you try to play it cool, feeling way too vulnerable.

“Don’t get used to it.” You let a small smile creep over your face. Maybe this shiny beskar clad man wasn’t so bad afterall. He doesn’t say anything, and silence fills the cockpit once again, but this time it’s not unpleasant. No longer sifling, but comfortable instead.

“She by the way,” you break it, and you look to each other once again, “I’m a she.” You smile at him, “I know my helmet says otherwise, but I’m a she.” He stares at you way too long without saying anything. It starts getting awkward real fast, until he gives you a slight nod and returns his gaze to the cockpit window. What a strange guy. You lean back and get comfortable in your seat, gently stroking Grogu’s cheek while he sleeps in your arms as the three of you warp through hyperspace. ***

Previous - MASTER - Next

[the-blind-assassin-12]

The Ghosts That We Knew

A/N: Just a short little piece to keep the “write every damn day” momentum going using the Day 3 prompt from this September Prompts list- foggy mornings. This fits into the Point of No Return Universe and it technically takes place after the events of the epilogue Petrichor (which I am still writing) but it doesn’t give anything away about what’s still to come for Ezra, Clara and Cee. Title comes from a Mumford & Sons song of the same name. (give it a listen if you want to up the foggy vibes) 

Prompt: Foggy Mornings 

Word Count: 1.1k

It was the silence that woke him. 

Eyes still closed, Ezra inhaled slowly through his nose and held it. Counting to three in his head, he listened to the thick, fresh quiet that had settled in place of the constant rapping of raindrops against the windows, the roof, the leaves of the Crater-Oak next to the house before releasing the breath he took. The muted, muffled absence of the metronomic rhythm stuffed his ears and told him that the monsoon had retreated back to the Lakelands. Rain’s done. He blinked, lashes fluttering and eyelids wrinkling, and then opened his eyes fully. 

Another sigh slipped out as he took in her still sleeping form beside him, the rain-washed pre-dawn light that crept in through the curtains creating a sort of aura over her skin. Oh, my Clara. Laying on his side, he leaned forward to find her shoulder with his lips, pressing a kiss to the cluster of freckles there. A throaty groan emanated from somewhere in his chest as he dragged her closer, arm winding more tightly around her as though he wanted to eliminate the boundaries between their bodies entirely. Keeping his lips in contact with the ridge of her shoulder, he kissed his way up her neck, smiling as she swallowed and finally stirred. 

Clara let out a dreamy hum, hips shifting against his as he felt one of her small hands circle his wrist. “G’ morning, Ezra,” she murmured, voice impeded slightly by the pillow and the yawn she tried to hide in it. “‘S it still rainin’?”

Ezra’s chest warmed, his heart spinning at the way sleep still stuck in her throat, thickening her tongue. “Uh-uh, Huckleberry,” he left one more peck behind her ear, her soft hair tickling the tip of his nose. “Listen.” She laid still, holding her breath for a few beats the way he had when he first woke so that she could focus on the sound, and then she was turning onto her back with a sleep-polished smile on her face. Kevva what I fool I was to ever leave this farm. 

She didn’t let him dwell on his misgivings for too long though, reaching up with one hand to rake her fingertips through the platinum splotch in his hair. “S’your favorite part of the rainy season, Ezra.” Letting her hand curve around his cheek, she swept her thumb under his eye. “The end of it.” 

A chuckle fell from his lips as they stretched into a quick grin and he turned his face to kiss the heel of her palm. “Indeed it is, for now I get to see you in proper daylight, without the filter of the clouds to dim your shine.” 

She laughed, her hand falling to her own face to rub over her eyes. “Mmm, I don’t feel very shiny at the moment.” Nonsense, Huckleberry you are always the brightest light in any room, no matter the weather. “I’m gonna take a quick shower, I’ll meet you downstairs in a few?” 

Ezra nodded, blinking twice before leaning in to kiss her nose and then they both rose from the bed, Clara heading for the bathroom and Ezra getting himself together to go down to the kitchen. Pausing outside the closed door to Cee’s room, he waited to make sure that the girl was alright, that the sudden stoppage of the rain hadn’t startled her the same way that the torrents of it had when they first began to fall. Still sleeping, little bird? Just like the rest of the house, her room only answered with silence and he continued on down the stairs. 

Steps creaking beneath his bare feet, Ezra descended and turned directly into the kitchen. Flicking the light on so that he could see to set up the brewer for tea. Using the new handle Cee had installed, he scooped the purpled powder into it and maneuvered the basket, slotting it into the machine to start the drip. That done, he lifted his head and looked out the round window over the sink and was immediately met with a wall of dense, white fog, chest tightening around the warmth that waking up with the woman he loved always put there. It is my favorite time of the season, Clara, you were right about that. 

The pipes were still shaking in the walls which meant that she was still in the shower, so Ezra took the opportunity to step out into the blank, quiet morning alone. Though the silence had been almost impenetrable when he first woke, it was thinner out on the porch, diffused by the Thulian fields and the clouds of fog that were rolling over them. The door banged shut behind him, but he didn’t hear it. His attention was on the wisps of vapor hovering over the ground and the beams of light from the rising Vernal Star turning into soft yellow orbs as they passed through the fog. 

To many people, even those who grew up there, the phenomenon of Kamrea’s fog cover following the rains sent shivers and chills down their spines, evoking spectral imagery and playing tricks with their eyes. In truth, Ezra also saw ghosts when he looked out at the ground cloud, at the wisps moving like spirits through the watercolor landscape. But instead of anything sinister he saw it as a release, a rising, a clearance of all the things that haunted him through the last year. The last five years. While most referred to the daylight’s effect on the fog as a burning off, he saw it more of a warming, a melting, the air evening out and the weather laying down its arms in surrender. To him, it was the planet’s way of reminding its inhabitants that everything fades; all fogs lift, all the things often mistaken for ghosts flicker and vanish, and that once they did there was nothing but life and growth left in their wake. 

When the door opened again, Ezra turned to see Clara and Cee coming outside clutching steaming mugs, the young girl carrying a second one for him, her blonde hair rumpled from sleep. He reached to take his beverage from her as Clara wound her arm around his waist and fit herself against his side and filled his chest with warmth once more, the three of them silently watching the rest of the ghosts vacate the fields. 

Life is for the living, and that’s what I intend to do with the rest of mine. 

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.

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[idjitlili]

W-wait you kidnapped, Jareth?

Obi-wan x reader

(Not my image)

Summary: Dropped into a strange world, pretty much on to a Obi-wan's lap, only for him to take pity on you. What a pity...

Word count:6237

Warnings: Kidnapping of a non-starwars character, tight pants wearing person.../ tight pants/ references to something under tight pants. Post Padme and Anakin reuniting. Some language. Age gap.

Okay, so maybe you had been in another dimension, with no intention,with a bit of a mind flip, you're into the time slip. You don't know how it happened one minute you was  sleeping, having one of those dreams when you are falling but you couldn't wake up, until you had shot awake from painful landing.

Well, the landing wasn't painful, two points of impact, under your legs and on your shoulder blades. Opening your eyes suddenly, to see a auburn haired man, his eyes bright, as they starred into yours, yes he was handsome. Some sort of cream wrap tunic, dark brown shirt underneath, hiding his chest. It was hot, very hot, how was his face no sweating, your arm now around his shoulders to prevent you from falling. No doubt your face showed shock.

"Who are you?!"

What else was you supposed to say, other than 'where am I?' It was not long at all before 'Obi- wan' the man who had caught you had taken you to some green guy called Yoda. Aliens, you would not have guessed it, well most people know there are actually aliens, there are so many galaxies. There was no earth in the place, so they had concluded it be some sort of bigger power had brought you were.

Yoda seemed nice enough, basically the Lady Galadriel of this place, insuring you that no harm would come to you. Of course, he had put the top Jedi on the job, Obi-wan, why did you have to put with the handsome ones, you'd end up red faced even if he looked at you. If he wasn't a nice person then he would've just dropped you.

In the short time you had been in this place, you had wondered why you had fallen in this place in your shoes. However, that is irrelevant, you had learnt about Jedi and siths, typical good guys versus bad boys. Not bad boys...not yet, of course I'm thinking about Din Djarin,well he's not evil.

Yoda did have a lot to say, except oh yes just so you know you've just been dumped into a foreign universe and now you are going on a space ship. You had been given a bag, with sets of clothing for you as well as some other supplies. Obi-wan being himself, not that you knew his regular behaviour, took your bag, when you were both walking towards the ship. Not that it was in view not yet.

"W-wait, so we are going into space?" Your voice laced with panic, as you speed walked next to Obi-wan to keep up.  He had let out a deep chuckle.

"Where else would we go, little one?"

"Uhm, literally anywhere else, do I not get food before we leave? I just got here! I'm starving."

The ship, now in view, was it floating? Was it just on a platform? Nope it was floating, did you just the force to do that, like an elevator? Looking at the Jedi, grinning as you both got closer and closer to the ship.

"It's not that bad, I won't let anything happen to you, nothing will if I am the one steering it anyways..." Obi-wan whispering last bit, but you still heard him, brows scrunching toward, who else would be piloting the ship? You? Never.  That when you saw him, stood on  ramp of the ship, assuming he was waiting for you and Obi-wan. His hair short, light brown and spiked. Was that a rat tail? Oh gosh. He was cute, but you could tell he was trouble.

"Oooh, Master, I thought you said no attachments." Obi-wan had scoffed at the boy, as you both got dangerously close, the boy looked at you with a smirk, his cheeks bunching up like a clown. That he was indeed.

"This is Anakin, Anakin, Y/n, she will be coming with us,"  Obi-wan looked at Anakin who still was looking at you, only at his master briefly. When he did Obi-wan's face could only be described as that face off Zoolander, Blue steel. Why was he pursing his lips, was he expecting a peck or was that just his stern face?

Of course when you held your hand out to shake his, he had took your hand in his pressing his lips to your knuckles. You looked at Obi-wan wide eyes, was this legal? Was Anakin even an adult? Only just, but still, he was not your type.

"Anakin, that's enough, what have I told you?" Pulling Anakin from you , pushing him into the ship, Anakin turns his face to you sending a cheeky grin. Only for Obi-wan to give him another shove out the ship. Obi-wan gesturing you for you to get on before him, with a small smile. "Thank you."

You weren't sure where you were going, hell, you didn't even know what planet you had just been was, but now you say in a seat gripping it, as Obi-wan began to pilot the ship, is that what it was called? Was called something different? You weren't sure, all you knew is this was scary. If you crashed there was little chance of survival, there's no oxygen in space.

Anakin sat next to Obi-wan, both focused on the darkness in front of them. You sat on seat that you could only describe as one of those joint seats at the back of a bus, an British bus. Maybe it's the same for different countries? The chair against the wall, you had strapped your bag down in the seat next you , as well yourself.

You had completely forgotten that you were wearing a baggy t-shirt with trousers, and shoes. That night you must've been so tired that you didn't change, you don't know what happened that night.  You must've looked very out of place, especially with what you had seen everyone else was wearing. Why were they all dressed as Jesus? You were surprised they were surprised they weren't wearing sandals.

"So, where are you from?"  Anakin had spoken gently not taking his face from his position, had made you snap out of thoughts.

"Y/h/c." You weren't sure if he meant planet, you had just stuck with your home country. Anakin had clicked his tongue, thinking, before he could say anymore Obi-wan had stopped him.

"She's not from this galaxy, Anakin." Obi-wan spoke like Anakin was supposed to know that, well you was wearing a shirt that literally had Keanu reeves face on it.

"Well then, how did you get here?"

"I was sleeping in my bed, and then I was falling somehow, whoa Obi-wan happened to be standing below me, and caught me, the end." Anakin had let out a loud snort turning to his master.

"No attachments, well, Master, if I didn't know better, I would say this was the beginning of something that was meant to be."  You swear you saw Anakin raise his eyebrows at Obi-wan, though you couldn't see properly from sitting behind.

"Keep your forked tongue behind you teeth." Why did that sound so familiar... Obi-wan was harsh to his Padawan, he didn't seem to be repulsed by you, maybe he felt uncomfortable by the tone of Anakins voice. W-wait did he just quote Gandalf?

After that everything was silent, for a while anyways, Obi-wan soon told you to go to the bathroom thing in the ship, you had already forgotten what he called it. Informing you that you should change into a set of clothes you were given; so that you would not stick out.

Clothing choice was good considering; you didn't know where you were going but you were glad you were given trousers for walking. Especially what you had been heard, you did not fancy being killed because you had tripped on the dress you were wearing.

The only reason they had took you to this planet was for them to negotiate with someone,  you could swear you saw one of them talking to someone on a hologram, why didn't they just do that. When you did arrive, you had to walk far into town. Security reasons, but the ship stood out more on it's own.

You were definitely not expecting to end up in pub, where else would they find a bad guy. It wasn't high tech like you had thought, it was a tavern, old fashioned. For a hot climate the bar was quite cool.

Strange that Obi-wan had made you sat at a table alone, there was a open space, you assumed for dancing, sat at a booth, you had perfect view to the little stage. Though there was no one there. Obi-wan and Anakin had went searching in the bar for the man or woman , or them, you weren't sure. You didn't understand how it was safer for you to be alone.

Twiddling your thumbs bored, the chat of bar was considerably low, it had already began to get dark. Soon enough the pub would be packed. You hadn't seen the man make his way on stage, standing in front of a microphone, while a couple of other people set up behind him. He did not look the band sort, but those other men were there to play the instruments, since there was only one mic.

It was only when the music began to play did you look up, a skinny man, stood at the microphone, his eyes the brightest blue, though his left pupil bigger than the right. His eyebrows had no ends, eyeshadow flicked up into an wing , the end facing his hairline, his cheekbones clearly highlighted. His hair huge , blond, long as well as being a mullet.

His shirt crisp white,with a leather brown vest, his sleeves puffy. The vest only went above his hip bones, beneath that was some very tight pants. They were almost leggings, the grey clearly presented his package. The boots what a slight heel on them reaching up his calves.

This man was clearly handsome, but he reminded you so much of Bowie, you couldn't help but feel drawn to him.

"There's such a sad love

Deep in your eyes a kind of pale jewel

Open and closed

Within your eyes

I'll place the sky

Within your eyes."

His gloved hands on the microphone, as your eyes were glued to him, his eyes gliding over the bar before meeting yours. His eyes eyes latching onto y/c ones, a grin spread across his face, showing his slightly croaked teeth. You quickly looked around making sure he was looking at you, glancing at Obi-wan and Anakin who were busy arguing.

"There's such a fooled heart

Beatin' so fast

In search of new dreams

A love that will last

Within your heart

I'll place the moon"

As your eyes went back to the man, his position now moved, instead of a microphone, he had a mouth piece, a few people waltzing together on the now on the empty space from earlier, but now it wasn't empty. Your heart raced as the man continued to sing, heading your way slowly, dancing with others as he did so.

"Within your heart

As the pain sweeps through

Makes no sense for you

Every thrill is gone

Wasn't too much fun at all"

You don't what possessed you to stand up, but you did. Your feet pulling you towards the dance floor, a smirk upon the mans face as he saw you approaching him, you had blinked and with that he had disappeared. Your eyes searching the crowd, he was still singing.

"But I'll be there for you-ou-ou

As the world falls down

Falling

As the world falls down

Falling

Falling in love."

You were feeling embarrassed when you could not find the man, especially being on the dance floor alone. You had almost had a heart attack when someone had placed their hand on your arm. Turning around you were face to face to the grinning man, offering you his hand. Your hand in his gloved one, the other on his shoulder, his on your waist.

"I'll paint you mornings of gold

I'll spin you Valentine evenings though we're strangers 'til now

We're choosing the path

Between the stars"

Smiling up at the man, you felt like nothing else matter, as you waltzed with him, your movements so smooth that his hair didn't even know. Maybe he wore a lot of hairspray. Your eyes never leaving his, you couldn't remember knowing how to waltz.

"I'll leave my love

Between the stars

As the pain sweeps through

Makes no sense for you

Every thrill is gone

Wasn't too much fun at all

But I'll be there for you-ou-ou

As the world falls down

Falling-"

What you did not notice was the two Jedi's calling your name, as they searched for you, only for Obi-wan to lock eyes onto you, getting Anakins attention, as he sighed. One rumb of the moustache and both of them started heading your way.

Jareth at eyes finally left yours, he had stopped singing, he had not let you go though.

"What are you doing, Y/n?" You had instantly unlaced your hand from the man, turning to face Obi-wan's disapproving glare, Anakin sniffled under his hand, glad he wasn't getting in trouble...again.

"Dancing?" You had even had a second to react when Anakin had stroked his moustache again, and the man was cuffed. Pulling you gently by the arm, you all made your way out of the bar, no doubt that was embarrassing. You had accidentally gotten the guy captured because you danced with him. Then again, Obi-wan would've spotted him singing as well, so maybe it wasn't your fault. Little nervous to why they wanted him, hopefully not for murder.

Once you did make it back to the ship, Anakin was to fly the ship, while the strange man  sat next to your bag, and you next to Obi-wan across from him. 

"I don't understand, I'll did was dance with him, he didn't try to kill me, so what's the problem?"  Obi-wan scoffed, staring at the man, not turning to even look at you.

"The problem is that he kidnaps children."

"No, I take the unwanted ones, those that are wished away." That sounded familiar, the hair, the pants, the David Bowie everything, it was clear who this man was.

"Ben, you can't speak him like that, do you not know who you have captured? He's Jareth, the goblin king!"  Jareth had just smirked at Obi-wan, quite frankly the outburst had made Obi-wan jump. No one called him Ben.

"W-well, I've heard stories of The Labyrinth."

"I'm sorry, how did I not see it before, the hair, the music, the very tight pants , the-"

"Why were you looking at his trousers?" Obi-wan now had turned to face you, his eyes eyes searching your face for answer, his voice stern, your face blushed. You really needed to stop talking about pants all the time.

"Do you want her to look at yours instead,Master?"  Obi -wan had choked his bearded face reddening. His eyes now off your face.

"Oh, I've already looked, what about some tighter pants , I must say you have lovely arse though." Placing a hand on Obi-wan's lower thigh, if his face was red before it was now, he couldn't look at you. A gentle squeeze of his thigh, and he had to excuse himself.

Once Obi-wan was out of ear range, the three of you laughed, though Anakin hadn't seen nor knew what tipped Obi-wan over the edge. However, Jareth had smirked at you, he knew very well what you had done. You had barely had known Obi-wan for four days, and he already felt like he was breaking the rules.

It was very clear why Obi-wan actually left the room, his trouser were now tight on him.

"So, love.."  You were surprised, obi-wan had taken the cuffs off Jareth in the ship and left him with you.  One of his legs , thrown over the end on table, as if it was an arm of a chair.

"Stop that." Anakin's voice stopped Jareth saying anymore.

Before you knew it, you had been talking to to Jareth the whole journey back, Obi-wan had came back shortly after; sitting next to Anakin. 

It was not like you had anything better to do other than speaking to the fae, Obi-wan just criticising Anakin. 'He's overly critical.' What do you want Anakin, a kiss on your cheek, oh sweetie you are doing absolutely amazing at killing the guys on our side.

Stepping out of the ship, Jareth now singing another song, like he was in a movie or something. You had caught eyes with about her man in robes, another Jedi. Hold on, that couldn't be Samuel L Jackson?

"Hey, Jareth?"

"Yes, love."

"Can't you just magic yourself out of this situation back to the your castle?" Jareth's hands weren't cuffed still, he had turned his face towards you with a grin, looking back at him, you felt bad he was only helping he wasn't killing people or anything. He was a lovely guy.

"Yes, I can, I was just waiting for a kiss goodbye." Pointing to his cheek, your pinks slightly pink as your pressed a kiss to his soft skin. With that you had pulled away, one last smile, he had turned dramatically, spinning his cape with him, glitter flying everywhere. Off flew a a light brown owl. He was gone.

"Mother fucker." Your lips turned up slightly trying to prevent a grin, as you turned back to the Jedi's that did not look impressed. Well, Anakin he did not care he just smiled, knowing you were probably were going to get in trouble. You literally didn't even do anything, all you did was kiss the mans cheek.

"What did you do?" Obi-wan eyes on you , his words  like a sharpened butter knife, you could say unnatural...even supernatural. This hands on his hips, pushing his robes back.

"W-what? Me? I told you he was bloody magic ;but no, you didn't listen."

"Control yourself, now come, Master Yoda requests all of you." Did he just tell Obi-wan to calm himself , he just called Jareth a motherfucker. 

The meeting with Yoda, Windu  and the three of you, wasn't with the Jedi republic. According to Yoda, this matter wasn't of importance, he didn't expect You'd been able to hold Jareth for very long. Master Windu, didn't give no shits, he was disappointed.

It wasn't like he killed a bunch of kids, not like Anakin was going to. Not just the men, but the woman and the children too. Jareth basically had loads of Goblin children living their best life's in the goblin city, that wasn't threatening. So, the Goblin king got away, why don't you go kill bloody Palpatine.

The next few weeks were not as eventful, stuck in your room bored, it was awkward to go out you didn't know anyone. Especially not Obi-wan you were pretty sure he hated you at the moment. You did not want to have to get involved with him and Anakin training. Exercise...no thanks.

You really did feel bad for how you acted towards Obi-wan, he was a Jedi you couldn't touch him like that. So, when he turned up at your room in the evening, with your dinner, it was surprising. Normally you'd get brought to dinner by one of the younglings.

Obi-wan stood in front of you with a small smile as he held the tray. The tray with two plates of dinner.

"O-oh, hi," pulling the door open with the door handle allowing Obi-wan into your room, before shutting it behind him.

"I thought maybe you wanted someone to eat with you," He did not expand further. Obi-wan was a kind man, he took a pact basically to have no family no nothing, just to protect the galaxy. With a high chance of death, he was a noble man, you couldn't think of anyone you knew from back home that would do that. You should not have gave him a boner.

Placing the tray on the table within your room, but instead of sitting down, he had lifted the whole table towards the balcony. Obi-wan has , went to Yoda before coming to your room, stating this was strictly professional nothing more. Yoda had just laughed. "Dine with her , you will."

Seeing what Obi-wan was doing, you had grabbed a chair too, onto the the stone of the balcony. The view of the planet, Coruscant was not the best, but it was better than looking at a wall. Ten again you'd be eating in a moment so you wouldn't have to look at either. Fresh are was good though.

Sitting down at the round table with Obi-wan was weird, you really felt guilty for your behaviour it was eating you up, whilst you both ate your dinners up. Looking up to Obi-wan, his eyes fixed to his plate as he struggle to cut a potato, his golden hair tucked behind his eyes.  Orange light from the setting sun shined into his hair, as well as his cheeks, his eyes glistening.  

"The way I acted on the ship, was completely inappropriate, I am so sorry, there is no excuse for my behaviour.  I admit I'm glad you are here now. I don't expect you to forgive me."

Obi-wan's eyes now looking back into yours, his eyebrows frowning together slightly, his knife and fork on his plate, as he lent back in the chair. Rubbing your sweaty hands along your trousers roughly, a small laugh let his lips.

"I must have missed something, you complimented my behind and squeezed my knee. That's hardly anything to apologise for, if anything I would've expected an apology for not listening to my orders."  That guilt did seem to fade away, mostly. Your cheeks reddening, as Oni-wan continued to look at you.

"I'm sorry for not following your orders, especially when in a pub on a strange planet."

Smiling at each for a moment before going back to your dinners before they got cold.  Not speaking fully until you had both finished eating.  

This became a daily occurrence for weeks, then months. You were still not returned home, you were stuck. You didn't feel alone not like you did when you first arrived. You did miss home very much, but nothing could be done about that. 

Sometimes, sorry, every time Obi-wan went out of Coruscant you went with. Even if it was dangerous, either you'd stay in the ship or simply go wherever with him.  It wasn't hard to see how close you had gotten to Obi-wan, the Jedi council did not like it one bit, not that you knew that.  Obi-wan had insisted that he had been assigned to protecting you and that was what he was doing. Not that was far from the truth.

No attachments, Kenobi? Okay.

What makes matters worse you had no currency, it wasn't hard to guess who would supply you with clothing's such. Obi-wan would take you to the market to buy you anything you needed. In return, well, there wasn't much you could do, certainly wasn't safe for you to go off on your own, especially not being from this universe. So, you just kept him company.

Anakin being Obi-wan's padawan he came along too, not to the market but on missions, but that was obvious. You had felt like a burden , you really did,  being reassured you weren't, Obi-wan had given you a role. A purpose. You were their healer.

Not Obi-wan purposely getting small injuries, he'd argue wit himself and sometimes Anakin, that it wasn't on purpose and if it was it was only to make you feel like you part of their team. Not that Obi-wan longed for the soft touches of your skin on his.

However, he was not expecting you to get hurt, no he would not have, he had sworn to protect you and he had failed. You had arrived on this strange planet for 'negotiations' for this clan to basically team up with the republic, but Darth Maul had gotten there first. Of course, you had been kidnapped, since Obi-wan told you to stay in the ship.

Darth held you off the floor by the back of your neck, holding the lightsaber out ready to kill you, not really just leverage. Obi-wan and Anakin in front, they really had no plan. Well, Darth Maul almost stabbed you, but you had the higher air and took a blade from your pocket and stabbed yourself. Blood pouring out of your Abdomen, as your eyes watered, your throat blocked up.

Dropping you to the floor, Darth Maul had laughed. "Oh, I like her." Obi-wan did not like that at all, seeing you face down on the cold floor him an Anakin activated their lightsabers.I could describe the whole fight sequence, but you already know Darth Maul wiggled himself out of that situation back to the Sith, not surprising, you wouldn't remember anyways, you had passed out.

The clan now on the republics side,  only because the Jedi's had saved them and promised protection.

Obi-wan had carried you back to the ship with Anakin, who began to start the ship. He felt guilty to wake you up, he would rather stitch you up when you were unconscious.The thought of hurting you plagued his heart, maybe he should get Anakin to do it. No, he couldn't go through with someone else hurting you.

Grabbing the medical kit, Obi-wan had made his way back to the bed, your body still, he would've been happy if this was Anakin. The thought crossed his mind, to stab Anakin, so he'd bloody shut up. Our tunic now drenched with blood, he could clearly see the tear in your shirt. He was not going to wake you , deciding just to cut a square out of your shirt.

You wouldn't be surprised if that shirt wasn't fashion back home, you know people wearing bandanas as shirts, here's what hot now, reveal your hip and your abdomen with a square hole! Who knows, I don't know anything about fashion, except I dress like David Bowie. Shut up , no one cares.

Your face was already laced with cold beads sweat, like Obi-wan but he felt like furnace, his long hair pushed back, his lips squished together as he grabbed the anaesthesia, pulling up your sleeve carefully before injecting it quickly. Then he had gotten to work, soon enough, you was stitched up.

Only problem was, that Sith had damaged the ship, so Anakin only got the three of you so far before having to land on freezing planet. But, it gets better, Anakin being really great, and supposedly a great pilot had hit the side of a mountain. Snow had covered the ship, you were trapped by an ocean of snow.

Of course, R2 hadn't came in this trip, just luck, only thing that was working was the heating and lights, the signal had gone. No way to contact anyone, however, someone was bound to notice in a few days something had gone wrong.

This was not going to be like without a paddle, where you'd all be in your underwear and spoon. We do not shaggy here, um? Get it before Shaggy is in that movie? 

Eventually, you had woken up, a little dizzy, probably would not have if Anakin wasn't having a tantrum. You didn't even question how you got back to the ship, your shoes tapped quietly against the floor , as you made your way to the cockpit.  Both Obi-wan and Anakin were stood in the centre of the room, Anakin point and clenching his fists, Obi-wan just stood there.

You got a feeling that Anakin was not good at keeping his emotions in check, why was he always so emotional. Obi-wan was now sipping juice, no blue milk, yuck, Anakin still shouting.

"You're jealous, master. You're afraid I am getting too powerful, you want me to fail!"  Placing his drink down, Obi-wan had caught your eyes,  his face lightened into a smile from his frown. "Mum,  you think I am ready to be a Jedi Master, right?"  His eyes soft on the sight of you, coughing slightly, you had looked back at Obi-wan who turned to you in a swing, now amused by his Padawan.

"I'm sorry, aren't I a similar age to you?" The cold temperatures from the snow, had transferred into the ship, but Anakins cheeks still burned. He just stood looking at you unable to speak, Obi-wan had laughed patting his Padawan on the back once.

"Don't worry about it; he does it to everyone. When he was younger, it was difficult to convince him to stop calling me father. Sometimes, he still does." 

"Liar, I do not. You treat me like a whore ; calling everyone my father. I do not, it was mistake!"  Anakin was overwhelmed, his voice defensive and loud as he left the room, leaving you with Obi-wan, who's lips were twitched into a large smile , as he stroked his moustache.

For a few moments you both stood in silence, before you had looked down to the ache and coldness on your lower abdomen. A hole on in your shirt where you we're stabbed, now stitched up.

"Oh yes, sorry about your shirt." Your finger tips tracing the fabric, then touching the wound, pain shot through your body, letting out a welp. Obi-wan eyes had widened, stepping close to inspect the wound again, why would you poke it?

"It's just a shirt, it's not like you don't buy them all anyways, thank you for that again, also thank you for stitching me up ,  that was you?"  Your voice quiet, under his gaze, a deep chuckle had left his mouth.

"Yes, I did, I hardly trust Anakin's flying, how are you feeling? That was very well done back there, but I do recommend you don't do it again." You had scoffed, letting out a short laugh after, Obi-wan looked at you rising his eyebrows, to warning you.

“Oh, yes, I plan on stabbing myself again, who do you think I am? Loki? Okay, maybe I’ll fake my death for attention too.” Obi-wan’s hands gently placed on your shoulders, squeezing lightly , as he looked into your eyes. His blue orbs intensely on yours, his hair neatly tucked back.

“I wouldn’t allow that, from now on you don’t stay in the ship alone, If something happens to you I’d never forgive myself, and I believe that you were sent here for a reason. Not to die.” His hands had left you , smiling at you once more, before leaving the cockpit.

Not only after that you had retired to your bed, in clothes without holes, your now many blankets covered you. Thanks to Obi-wan again, since you all spent so much time on the ship, it was necessary for situations like this. Of course, as long as the ship wasn’t blown up again.

Though the heating was working, it didn’t stop the cold from the outside. Curled up so tight in your blankets, trying to retain heat, you could not get comfortable to sleep. The cold nipping at your feet and cheeks, your nose was probably red too.

Only an hour or two from when you first got into bed, sighing , all your blankets wrapped around you, stepping out of bed. Quietly, making your way around the ship, just to tire yourself out, or to make yourself really cold. So, when you would get back into bed you’d be like ‘oooh warm’ and fall asleep.

You had meant to wake in on Obi-wan sat in his chair in the cockpit, wrapped up in his robes, seemingly fast asleep. His arms crossed, his auburn hair covering his face , neck cranked forward. He was going to have a sore neck in the morning.

Turning on your feet, slowing walking out of the room, pulling your blankets tighter. A sigh had left Obi-wan’s mouth, not loud but you heard it. Your movement now softened, you continued with tiny steps.

“I know you are there, Y/n, come back.” No doubt you almost peed yourself, hearing Obi-wand raspy voice, he had been a sleep, you felt horrible. Walking back from the door way, Obi-wan had turned to chair to look at you.

“I didn’t mean to wake, I didn’t know you was even in here.” Obi-wan opened his mouth yawning loudly, before looking back at you, snorting a laugh, at your choice of clothes.

“What are doing up?” Shifting on your feet, covered with socks, the icy floor numbing them.

“Can’t sleep, aren’t you cold?” You wondered if Anakin was having trouble sleeping too, he must’ve been fine, since he left Obi-wan in here. Obi-wan probably never meant to fall asleep, waiting for anyone to contact. Shaking his head, he had opening his arms up gesturing you over.

“Come here, darling.” Not sure on what he was going to do, yet you still walked towards him, you trusted him. You were glad if you were stuck you was stuck with the Jedi. Pressing his palm around your clenched hand that held tightly onto your blanket. His hands were really warm, like had them between his thighs. His lips moulded into a circle shape, inhaling sharply.

“Oh, I should’ve brought you more blankets.” His hand still on yours, looking up at you, a small smile on your face, your teeth felt like ice cubes, a few moments went by, you weren’t sure what he was waiting for or what you were waiting for.

“ Do you think I could stay here...with you?” Your cheeks now felt hot, the words barely a whisper, you shouldn’t have asked, it’s completely inappropriate. “I-I can go back to bed-“

“Nonsense.” Obi-wan had pulling you into his lap, okay, so maybe you thought he would’ve been like yeah and you would’ve sat in the chair next to him. You head resting against his chest, his stubble tickling upon your head. Obi-wan’s arms wrapped around you tightly, sealing the blankets. Yours around his waist, feet tucked up on the chair, as well. Obi-wan warmth surrounded you with his scent, the soft touch of his lips against your temple.

“Am I allowed to love you, Ben?” Your eyes fluttered closed, your voice barely above a whisper, Obi-wan’s heart hitched into his throat. He flirted too often and he knew it, and he knew that his feelings weren’t platonic either, he wouldn’t have spent dinner every night alone with just anybody.

“No, I suppose you’re not.” What would the council feel about this, he wished he could blame Yoda for making him guardian over you and that first dinner with you.

“If you aren’t supposed to have attachments, then what am I? You promised Master Yoda to protect me, isn’t that an attachment. Would anyone be able to tell? You have to be with me pretty sure all day anyways.”

Your words made him ponder for a moment, he knew you were right, you had already acting like you were together for a long time, not directly in front of council though. It was clear Anakin saw it too, he wouldn’t have called you mum, that was weird though. Maybe he has a kink think because he hasn’t seen his mum since he was 9.

Obi-wan looked over you all the time, brought you everything you needed, ate dinner with you, kept you warm, stitched you up, protected you from strange people. There were times where you’d turn up to his room crying, or upset or missing home, he’d comfort you. Similarly to this situation, you’d end up in his bed, not like that, you in his arms stroking your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple as you fell asleep. It was not new.

“You are right, I love you.” Looking up to the Jedi, as he smiled down at you.

“You do?”

“I do.” He may not have kissed you then, but you had time, you weren’t about to let Anakin take him from you. What mattered was you were together, even being away from your home, you had another. With Ben and a ‘son’ that was older than you.

Oh , Anakin was so cheeky when he had awoken in the morning seen you against his masters chest.

“I knew it.”

[aricazorel]

"Are you jealous?" "No...Maybe." suggested by @russian-dumpling

pairing: Kaidan Alenko x Rebecca Shepard; set during ME1; word count: 1759

Noveria was cold. There was no doubt about that. It was a planet full of constant snowstorms. Nearly an ice planet.

Just like Hoth, Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko thought, unable to help the Star Wars reference. He glanced up at the thick transparent steel windows above that kept the raging winter storm out and the heat in. At least it was warmer than the Rebel Base…

“Hey, Alenko! You still with us?” Shepard’s voice called from beside him.

He glanced over at his CO noting that Ashley and Garrus had disappeared. “Don't you mean you, ma'am?”

“Oh for crying out loud! Don't ma’am me when we're alone,” she chided, a hand on her hip.

“We're still on the job, Commander.”

“Kaidan, is there a reason you're always so formal?”

“Habit it, ma'am, and it keeps me out of trouble.”

“Trouble? You, Alenko? Never.”

The Lieutenant snorted. “You don't know everything about me, Shepard.”

“Not yet,” the red head smirked with a wink.

***

While waiting to meet up with Gianna Parasini, Shepard unsurprisingly had elected to visit a few of the shops for tech and weapons mods. In truth it was the weapons mods that the Commander was really interested in. She only mentioned the tech mods to entice the Sentinel to tag along. In reality she didn't need to bribe him with anything other than herself.

He knew shortly after the Eden Prime mission that he was in trouble. Romantic entanglements with anyone he served with had always been a no no in his book. Falling for a superior officer was definitely not something he had ever seen himself doing. Yet there it was or rather she was standing outside yet another shop staring at the display in the window.

The Lieutenant was definitely in trouble.

He'd once told her he liked adventurous women. Kaidan would be lying to himself he didn't admit that Shepard fit that description to a tee. And that taste in the opposite sex is what would land him in trouble by the end of their current mission. Especially if the glances she was throwing over her shoulder towards him were any indication of things to come.

And there it was. The flirting grin she'd shoot him when she thought no one was looking. Of course Ashley had caught glimpses of it and teased the fire out of him about it. Despite his misgivings about the feelings he knew he was developing for his CO, Kaidan returned the smile as she motioned for him to join her at the display window. And of course he did.

As the Lieutenant walked over to her, Shepard motioned to a cluster of omni tool mods and one very specific omni tool. His eyes lit up as she casually mentioned, “I can open a line of credit with this store. You know. Get the license for the Normandy’s requisition officer so we can access their inventory anytime we want.”

“Really? Alenko asked excitedly as he looked from the Logic Arrest omni tool to Shepard.

With the amused look on her face he couldn't be sure if she were serious or not. Remembering himself he said, “I shouldn't ask you to use Alliance resources or your Specter status just to get me a new ‘tool.”

“But you didn't ask, Kaidan. I offered,” she corrected as she entered the shop. “Besides they have weapons mods too.”

Alenko cocked an eyebrow as he followed. She was his CO, a fellow officer, a friend. Yet he couldn't help but think she might harbor some feelings beyond all of that for him just as he did for her. Should he say anything? Should he let her make the first move? Should he see how things played out?

He sighed as he watched a salesman approach Shepherd with a broad grin. There were regs against fraternization. They were on a mission to stop a rogue Specter and his synthetic army. There was no place for romance, yet his feelings remained.

In an effort to distract himself, he focused his attention on the Logic Arrest Shepard had pointed out. In truth he did need a new omni tool, especially with the current mission. A part of him however couldn't shake the feeling that if he had said yes just a few minutes ago he'd already have a new ‘tool instead of looking at it in the display.

Kaidan let out a low growl. He should be able to focus on things without his thoughts circling back to Shepard. On a mission, in combat, doing his duties. Those instances were too problematic to allow that. The only acceptable exception was if Shepard was in danger.

But his down time? Sure she was nice to look at, athletic, red hair, nice smile, gorgeous eyes, great personality, honest, compassionate, amazing sense of humor, humble, firm. Anyone would be lucky to be the focus of her attention. Yet in the reflection of the display glass he saw her glancing at him as the salesman went on about various mods for her weapons the other man had were noticed Specter issue.

Apparently her status as a Specter had made the rounds rather quickly. Of course salesman wanted to land a large purchase from her then. Either way the Lieutenant could have sworn he saw the Commander wink at him in the reflection before she turned her attention back to the very friendly salesman.

“I can see the Specters have outfitted their newest agent with the latest weapons. Of course you can never go wrong with modifications,” the blond-haired man said smoothly. “Surely having the best mods on the market would help keep your lovely self safe.

“They certainly wouldn't hurt,” Shepard replied an even tone.

“Well, what is your primary weapon?” the man asked. “Maybe your favorite?”

“Those are two different things,” Shepard smirked with her arms folded across her chest.

“Really? For most customers those are one in the same,” the blond man muttered.

“I'm not most customers,” the Commander assured him confidently.

“I see,” the salesman muttered as he opened his ‘tool, showing the inventory available. “Perhaps something for your assault rifle first. We can't have our first human Specter being mowed down by rogue Geth. Protection is everything especially for a beautiful woman such as yourself.”

Kaidan rolled his eyes at the man's blatant attempt to flirt with the Commander in order to make a sale. Fundamentally the Lieutenant knew why the other man was doing it but that didn't deter the desire to tell the man off for disrespecting his CO. If he was totally honest with himself he had to admit that it wasn't just the man's lack of professionalism that bothered him.

He shifted, resisting the urge to go to Shepard’s aid. If she needed help, she would say so.

“I have plenty of protection already,” Shepard said as she gestured towards him. “My Lieutenant over there is an accomplished soldier and biotic. He's covered my six more times than I can count.”

Kaidan knew he was smirking as he caught her eye in the reflection once again. Whether she had intended to or not she had just padded his ego though he would never admit that. “Biotics will only get you so far,” the salesman muttered, his mood souring much to Alenko's delight.

“Oh but you haven't seen the Lieutenant train with his biotics,” Shepard mused with a big grin. “It's …quite the sight.”

Kaidan knew he was blushing as the salesman said, “I can provide you with top-of-the-line weapons mods. I'm afraid I am not licensed for biotic amps.”

Shepard made a noise of acknowledgement before she said, “You know what? I think I'll take that Logic Arrest in the window…and any mod you have for it.”

“Oh well, what about the weapons mods? Surely you need –“

“I already have the most advanced. Me being a Specter and all. But my Lieutenant needs the best omni tool available,” she insisted as she turned to Kaidan.

“I understand but you are his superior. Doesn't that mean –“

“If you can't sell me what I want, I am sure another shop can,” the Commander interrupted as she walked over to the Lieutenant.

“No. No. I can accommodate that,” the salesman said conceding that his sale to the first human Specter would not be as large as he originally thought.

Kaidan couldn't help the shit-eating grin as the salesman was forced to wait on him instead of Shepard.

***

Half an hour later Kaidan sat on the retaining wall of one of the many reflection pools near the shopping promenade as he fiddled with his new omni tool. They were waiting for Ashley and Garrus to rendezvous with them before taking the next step of their mission. For whatever reason, the Commander had spent her time watching him program his preferences into the new Logic Arrest.

He did his level best to ignore the attention until she said lightly, “Are you jealous?”

The Lieutenant paused in his motions as conflicting emotions demanded his answer one way or another. “No …maybe.”

She crossed her arms as she asked in surprise, “Really, Lieutenant? Of a weapons mod salesman?”

Kaidan knew he was blushing as he glanced at the nearby fountain. Was he that obvious? Was she going to give him a dressing down or just tease the crap out of him? Maybe even enlisting the help of Ashley and Joker?

“Hey, Kaidan?” Shepherds voice call to him as he felt a light pressure on his forearm from her hand. The use of his first caught his attention more than her touch.

He glanced back at her, seeing a tender smile. “I can promise you there is nothing to be jealous of. All my attention is on a certain L2 biotic. You might know him.”

Kaidan smiled as he replied, “Yes ma'am.”

Shepard opened her mouth to say something else when she heard Ashley and Garrus call out to them. She shrugged at him as she turned to greet them but not before she winked at the Lieutenant.

He watched as she walked over to their teammates as he finished setting up his tool. Any doubt he had about being more than comrades-in-arms or friends had evaporated. He was more certain than ever that things between them were more complicated than the mission parameters allowed.

But he didn't care. He was definitely in trouble, but he found himself not giving a damn about that either.

He liked adventurous women, and Shepard was definitely that. And so much more.

[bitchin-beskar]

Choices

Rating: T (This rating will be increasing to an M in the coming chapters)

Word Count: 8.2k

A/N: Whew. This took longer than I was anticipating, but I’m pretty happy with the result! This is a ClanLeader!Din AU, inspired by @magichandthing​‘s amazing artwork, and also inspired by the 2017 remake of Disney’s Beauty and the Beast. This will be a multi-chapter fic, and while I hope to get the next chapter out in a week or so, I make no promises! I hope you guys like it! Comments/Reblogs are more than welcome, it makes me so happy to know what you guys think!

Tags: @chibi-liz05​

If you want to be tagged in any future chapters (or any other works) just let me know!

“Will you open the stall today?”

You look up as you hear your father’s voice calling from outside in the garden. You wipe your hands off on your apron, the streaks of white flour maring the blue fabric. Stepping out into the sunlight, you see your father standing by the door, his medical bag slung over one shoulder.

“One of the children in a nearby village is sick, so I can’t go into town today. Will you go in and open up the stall for a little while? I promised some of the children that I would have new toys for them today, but I likely won’t be back before sundown.” 

“Of course, Papá. Go! I’ll be fine.” He grins at you, kissing your forehead as you step forward to hug him. “Be safe!” You wave as he climbs into the speeder and drives off in the direction of the neighboring village.

You head back inside to clean up the mess in the kitchen. You were going to spend the day baking, but now that you’ll be in town, you’ll have to save the baking for tomorrow. After you quickly clean up, you grab your father’s toy satchel, filled with all of the new wooden toys he’s carved for the children of the village, and head into town. The walk isn’t far and it’s nice out today, the suns shining down, causing the morning dew to shimmer on the leaves of the trees and the blades of grass. 

You stop along the path to pick a few wildflowers, tucking them into the pocket on your apron. Old Nan loves them, and you figure she can put them in a small vase in her home, or on display at her stall. She mostly sells knitted things, but occasionally she sells jam and honey, and she’s always willing to trade some with you for a few pretty flowers. 

As the village comes into view, you see a few of the children running about and playing in the fields. You wave, and they come running over excitedly. The children of the village love you and your Papá, unlike most of the adults. They love the toys your Papá creates, and they don’t mind that you prefer reading and baking to finding a husband. Children do not judge others for their choices, their innocence bright and refreshing. 

“Miss! Miss! Are you going to open the stall?” One of the children, Atleah, gasps excitedly, her little hands clutching at your skirts. She has many little toys and wooden gadgets from you and your Papá, and she always wants more. “Please, please, please open the stall! Eddarth said you had new toys!”

The boy standing next to her, her brother Eddarth, grinned unashamedly. You smile softly, pressing a hand against the soft hair on Atleah’s head to calm her. “Is Eddie telling tales?” You remark aloud, and you fight back a giggle as Atleah frowns. “I cannot remember if there is anything new for me to put at the stall…” You trail off, and Atleah tugs you along behind her as she practically drags you into the village, towards the marketplace. 

“But Miss!” She protests, tugging on the straps of your satchel. “Miss, you have the toy bag, so that must mean you have new toys!” She reasons, expression pleading, and you’re unable to keep up the facade.

“Oh! I do remember! Papá made a few new toys, some speeders and ships I believe.” Atleah squeals in excitement, and doubles down in her efforts to drag you to the stall. You’re laughing by the time you arrive, surrounded on all sides by excitable children. They wait impatiently for you to open up the stall, unlocking the cases and placing your wares out on display. 

Atleah immediately finds the toy she wants, a small replica of a sand crawler, complete with little Jawa figurines. You’d lived your whole life here on Roon, but your father had grown up on a moisture farm on Tatooine, and the children loved to hear stories of a planet covered in sand, so unlike the planet they’d been born on. 

You allow the children to pick their toys, bending down so each one can whisper their secret into your ear as payment. You watch amused as the children settle in the grass not too far from your stall, already coming up with games that they can play with their new wares. 

The children were usually the only ones to visit your stall, although occasionally adults would come to request your Papá’s medical skills for their families. The adults of the village didn’t like you or your Papá all that much. You were tolerated, but that was about it. You knew what they thought of you, that your Papá had allowed you too much independence, that you’d never settle down and become the good little housewife that was expected of the women in the village. They thought your Papá a touch mad, a little crazy because he preferred to make toys and gadgets all day, instead of using his skills as a medic to become rich. 

Old Nan wandered over to your stall, one of her knitted shawls wrapped tightly around her bony shoulders. She was half blind, but she enjoyed holding your Papá’s toys in her hands, feeling the carvings and details with her old fingers. As she approached, you pulled the bouquet of wildflowers out of your apron, tying them together with a spare piece of string. 

“Oh, dear girl, you shouldn’t have.” Her voice was warm, filled with affection as she accepted the flowers from you. “You spoil this old lady so.” She gently brought the flowers to her face, breathing in the scent.

“I like to think of it as a fair trade,” you offered, grinning. “A beautiful bouquet of flowers for a beautiful woman, in exchange for a little bit of delicious honey and jam.” Old Nan swatted at you playfully, her lips pulling back over her teeth in a delighted grin.

“You’re such a charmer, dear girl, how have none of the boys in this gods-forsaken village swept you off your feet?”

You’re about to answer when a large hand slams down on the wooden surface of your stall, startling the both of you and knocking some of your Papá’s creations over. 

“She likes to play hard to get, spinster. Isn’t that right, my treasure?” 

Glaring at the hulking figure before you, you straighten the toys he knocked over. “I am not your treasure, Gallan. I do not belong to anyone, least of all you, and I never will.” You smack his hand away as he tries to touch you. “And it is rude to refer to your elders in such a manner. Apologize.” 

He grunts an apology that both you and Old Nan know isn’t sincere, but you take what you can get. “I don’t understand why you keep turning me down, treasure,” he drawls, grinning even as you grimace. “There’s no finer husband on all of Roon than myself, surely your fool of a father can see that. It’s only a matter of time before he agrees to give me your hand.” 

“I am not a possession to be bartered for, Gallan. My Papá has agreed that I do not have to marry if I do not wish it. And even if I did wish to marry someone, it wouldn’t be you.” Turning so your back is to him, you attempt to begin a conversation with Old Nan, hoping Gallan would just leave, but he is not so easily dissuaded.

There is suddenly a tight grip around your wrist, and Gallan roughly yanks you back, spinning you around so you’re facing him. You tug uselessly against his grip, cringing back as he runs a finger down the side of your face. 

“You’ll give in to me eventually, my treasure. There’s no other woman in the village who can compare to your beauty. I won’t accept anyone else as my wife. You will be mine,” he all but growls, bringing his face closer to yours. You try to turn away, but his grip is too tight. You know none of the other villagers will step in to help you. With the exception of Old Nan, they all love Gallan, and many of the women are jealous of the attention he lavishes on you, unwanted as it may be. 

“Let go of me!” Your voice is loud, angry, but he only laughs as you try to escape him. “Gallan, let me go!”

He laughs mockingly. “Who’s gonna make me?” 

“She said to let her go.”

Gallan is startled by the harsh voice behind him, and he whirls around, unfortunately dragging you with him. Standing in front of your stall is a Mandalorian. Your eyes widen in shock. You knew there was a Mandalorian covert not far from the village, but they rarely ventured into town. When they did come to buy supplies, they came in twos, and never the same ones as before. You thought it might have something to do with diversion tactics, never allow the enemy to know how many are in your command or something similar. You knew the Mandalorians were a warrior race, so it wouldn’t surprise you. 

Your Papá had traded some medical supplies with the covert a couple of times, so you’d seen some of them the few times they’d appeared on your doorstep, but almost never in the town square or marketplace. You did not fear the Mandalorians, like many of the other villagers, but even you had to admit the one in front of you was intimidating. 

He–well, you assumed it was a he, it was hard to tell–stood close to six feet tall. His armor was made of beskar, gleaming silver in the sunlight. It covered his chest, back, arms and legs, and where he didn’t have armor, he had thick canvas fabric leaving his skin completely covered. He had multiple blades strapped all over his body, along with a pistol of some sort holstered at his side. He had some type of contraption on his back–in addition to the weapon that looked to be some kind of long range rifle–and it looked to you as though it was a jetpack. His arms were crossed and his helmet gave nothing away, but you could tell by the tilt that he was focused on Gallan, not you. 

“You have no business here, Mandalorian,” Gallan spat, his grip tightening around your wrist, and you winced as you felt the bones creak under his grip. “Go back and hide in your dingy, damp little caves. No one wants you here.” Gallan had a sneer on his face, and you wondered how any of the girls in this village could find this man handsome. 

“I believe the young woman wants you to let her go.” The Mandalorian did not move, and he certainly did not sound at all intimidated by Gallan. “So let. her. go.” 

Gallan’s grip slackened just enough at the hidden threat in the Mandalorian’s voice that you were able to yank your wrist free. Cradling your quickly bruising and sore wrist to your chest, you rubbed the tender skin as you backed away from Gallan. Emboldened by the presence of a Mandalorian, you spoke once more. “Leave, Gallan. Do not speak to me again.” 

He looked you up and down, a lewd, lecherous grin stretching across his lips. “I’ll be back, treasure. One of these days, I’ll wear your father down. Make no mistake, you will be mine.” You glared at him, angrily watching him leave, before turning to your savior. 

Before you could speak, the Mandalorian stepped forward, holding his hand out. “May I?” He asked, when you didn’t move. Blinking, you placed your hand in his, watching as he inspected your wrist. “Did he hurt you?”

Old Nan grumbled, and you started, nearly having forgotten she was there. “That boy has got some nerve,” she huffed, shuffling forward, uncaring of the big, hulking Mando. “Grabbing you like that. How many times has he done that, dear child?” 

You sighed. Old Nan was perhaps the only adult in the village who didn’t dislike you or your Papá, and while she may not have approved of Gallan, she was the only one. Everyone else seemed to think you were blessed to have his attention, or some other such nonsense. “He seems to think I am his property, just because he’s decided I’m the prettiest girl in the village,” you grumbled to Old Nan, and she tutted disapprovingly. “He’s never been all that violent, just… aggressive in his affection, if you can call it that.” 

You had a feeling the Mandalorian was looking at you incredulously, although with his helmet you couldn’t know for sure. “He nearly dislocated your wrist.” He finished inspecting your hand before lowering it slowly. “This has happened before?” You nodded.

“He’ll leave bruises on my arms from grabbing me too hard, and once he shoved me against a wall so hard I had a bump on the back of my head.” 

Old Nan gasped, and you winced, you’d forgotten she hadn’t known about that particular incident. “Why?” Her voice was quiet, and she had tears in her eyes. 

“Um, well…” You trailed off, grimacing. “I may have… laughed at him when his mogo threw him while he was trying to show off.” Old Nan snorted, trying to stifle a grin.

The Mandalorian shook his head. “He should not have harmed you, even then.” You shrugged, fiddling with one of the toys your Papá had carved. “How much for those?” This Mandalorian was giving you whiplash with the way he seemed to jump from conversation to conversation. 

“Do you mean the toys?” You asked, and when he nodded, you eyed him up and down critically. “Depends on who they’re for. I’ll sell them to travelers and tourists, but I have a bartering system set up with the village children. Why?”

He sighed, and the harsh static of his vocoder crackled with the noise. “Will you come with me?” He raised his hands up, palms facing you in a gesture of peace. “No harm will come to you, I swear. Bring the toys.” You contemplated for a second, before the pieces fell into place. You nodded, and after you placed them carefully in a satchel, he began to lead you out of the village, but not before you bid Old Nan good day. You walked at his side, relishing in the fact that for once, the villagers were staring, but it wasn’t because of you. 

As you began to leave the village behind, he stopped, before turning his helmet towards you. You stopped as well, and waited for him to speak. “May I blindfold you?” You weren’t all that surprised by his request. From the little you knew of the Mandalorians, you knew they were insanely private. While you knew of the existence of the covert, you knew very little about it. You had no idea how many Mandalorians there were, although you suspected at the very least there were children, due to his request about the toys. 

Nodding, you watched as he produced a strip of black fabric, and you allowed him to gently wrap it around your face, covering your eyes and causing your vision to go dark. “Can you see anything?” You shook your head. “I’ll need to fly us there. May I…?” You could hear the unspoken question in his voice, and you nodded. You were nervous about flying without being able to see, but it would be rude to refuse now. 

You felt one of his arms brace against the small of your back as his other slid beneath your knees, pulling your legs out from underneath you as he stood, cradling your body in his arms. You can feel your face heat up under the blindfold, even though nothing he’s doing could be considered inappropriate or indecent–unless you considered that it was customary for husbands to carry their wives from the altar to their homestead in such a manner, and you’d never imagined you would experience it–although if your Papá saw you now you were sure that he’d have questions.

He’s about to take off when you think of something. “What should I call you?” As he stays silent, you elaborate. “It doesn’t have to be your actual name, but I feel rude just referring to you as Mandalorian.” 

You don’t think he’s going to answer you, but then he speaks, just before activating his jetpack. “Din. My name is Din Djarin.”

You don’t have a chance to respond before the jetpack fires up, and then you’re airborne. You clutch at Din’s armor as best you can, although with how tight his grip is, you’re pretty confident you won’t fall. The wind whips your hair around your face, and you tuck your chin, turning your face into his chest to protect your skin from the harsh, biting cold from being so high up.

The wind combined with the noise of the jetpack makes it too loud for conversation, so he flies in silence, although admittedly not for very long. You can feel the change in the wind as you begin to descend, and before long, your body is jolted as Din lands with a soft thud.

He gently lowers you to the ground, and you’re somewhat surprised at the gentleness of his movements, in spite of his size and the bulky nature of his armor. Once you’re standing on your own two feet, you sway slightly, disoriented due to your blindfold and the–admittedly short–flight. His hands on your arms steady you for a moment, before turning you and gently leading you forward. 

You stumble along next to him for a few moments, but then he pauses, and slowly the fabric is removed from over your eyes. You blink rapidly as your eyes adjust to the dim lighting surrounding you. You’re underground, or at least, it looks like you are. The walls are some kind of smooth stone, and the hallway stretching out in front of you is lit by gas lanterns hung from the ceiling. The lanterns are the only source of light, but it doesn’t feel dark and oppressive, like you imagined a cave might feel. The walls and floors are clean of any moisture, and you feel a vicious sense of pleasure that Gallan had misjudged the Mandalorian covert’s home so spectacularly. 

“Are you alright?” You turn to look at Din, and with your eyes still adjusting, it takes you a moment to find his helmet, so that you could look at him.

“Yes, I’m fine. This is where the covert stays, I take it?” 

He nods once. “I’ll be taking you straight to the children. The adults will likely be cautious, but the children less so.” 

You shrug. “It’s a dynamic I’m used to,” you offer as you begin to follow him down the hallway. You think you hear Din say something, but his voice is too quiet to make out any distinguishable words.

“I need to warn you,” he says, pausing before a huge metal door, turning towards you. “Inside the covert, things are a bit… different. We wear our full beskar out in public, but in our home, we’re more… relaxed.” 

You nod, before fear grips you. “Wait, do they know you’re bringing me? I don’t want you to get into trouble, bringing an outsider into your home–” Din cuts you off with a chuckle, his leather-covered palm resting squarely in the middle of your back.

“Sarad’ika, calm down. I wouldn’t have brought you here without making sure it was alright with the Clan Leader, don’t worry. He knows you’re coming, and he’s fine with it.” You nodded, your heartbeat calming slightly. But then you paused.

“Wait, what did you just call me?” 

Din chuckled once more. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. It’s just what the others call you. One of the clan members saw you with a flower crown one day, and so the children began to call you Sarad’ika. It means little flower.” 

Nodding a little distractedly, you watched as Din opened the door. The covert had a nickname for you? You could count on one hand the number of times you’d met a Mandalorian, so you were a little shocked to learn they all seemed to know who you were. 

As you followed him into what turned out to be a large circular room, your eyes widened in shock. Near the ceiling, natural light streamed in, basking the weathered walls in warm sunlight. There was a large common area in the middle of the room, with tables and chairs and rugs of all shapes and sizes. There were multiple doors lining the walls, some open, some shut. Din led you into the middle of the room, towards a small group sitting on one of the rugs. When one of the beings turned, you could see that it was a child, no older than Atleah or Eddarth, wearing a beskar helmet. You heard the gasp as the child saw you, and you were suddenly surrounded on all sides by children, not unlike this morning in the village.

“Sarad’ika! Sarad’ika!” The children chanted as they surrounded you. One child tugs on your hand, leading you towards the rug they’d just vacated, pulling you down to sit with them, and the one adult Mandalorian, who had stayed seated. The children are wearing clothes similar to the children from your village, which makes sense you suppose. But the adult Mandalorian isn’t wearing full beskar, like Din is. She has her helmet on, but she’s wearing a pair of leather trousers and a soft-looking tunic, with her arms completely bare all the way up to her shoulders. She has tattoos covering every inch of exposed skin, thick black lines in sharp patterns that stand out against her bronze skin. She nods to you as you sit, and you think you hear her chuckle when one of the children plops down in your lap.

You feel the air rush out of your lungs as the child falls into your lap–sweet heavens the child is bigger than they think they are–but you hide it well. The helmet tilts up at you, and the sweet, innocent voice that floats out is only slightly marred by the vocoder.

“Sarad’ika, did you bring the toys? Din said he was gonna ask!” 

Even though you can’t see his face, you can imagine the expression on it clear as day, pleading, bright-eyed and hopeful. You tap your chin thoughtfully, and look around at the other children all waiting eagerly. “Perhaps. But I can’t just give toys out for free you know. They’re going to cost something.” Your words don’t deter the children at all, if anything they seem even more eager.

“How much?” 

The question comes from a little girl to your left, her small hands resting gently on your thigh. You smile. These children are no different from the others you’re used to. It’s nice to know childish innocence and wonder are universal.

“Oh, you can’t buy these toys with just any money.” You lean in conspiratorially, and the children are captivated. “I like to deal in secrets.” You can tell the children are confused, so you continue, your voice low. “In order to buy one of my toys, you must first tell me a secret about yourselves. Something no one else knows.” 

There are gasps all around, and you can tell they’re excited. “I’ll go first, so you know how it goes,” you offer, and the children shuffle even closer. “Sometimes, when my Papá is asleep, I’ll get up and dance around the kitchen and pretend I’m a queen in a fancy dress at a grand party!”

There’s giggles all around and the children begin to tell you their ‘secrets’ one by one. Braan, the little boy in your lap, likes to draw the constellations from memory. Tehra, the little girl on your left, likes to use sticks as staffs and pretend she’s battling invading armies. Quantra and Quentyan, twins, like to sneak to the kitchens some nights and try to wheedle snacks out of the cooks–which only works every other day or so, they inform you–to bring back to their friends. Cleolyta likes to design different styles of armor, and Nekhan loves to balance different and oddly shaped rocks to make the tallest–and coolest looking–towers. 

As the children tell you their ‘secrets’ you pull toys from your satchel, allowing the children to take the ones that draw their attention. Within just a couple of minutes, each of the children are holding wooden toys carved by your Papá’s hand. They’ve quickly become distracted by the toys, and most all of the children move off a little ways to begin playing.

“Secrets are an interesting form of payment.” 

You look up at the Mandalorian who spoke to you, seeing the woman with tattooed arms has moved closer, and is now sitting directly across from you. It’s hard, you realize, having a conversation with someone when you can’t see their face. It’s difficult to judge emotions, and you hadn’t realized just how much you relied on facial tics and expressions until now. 

She continues, since you haven’t responded. “Do you normally deal in non-traditional forms of currency?” 

“Only with the children.” You’re making a conscious effort to not fiddle with your apron, to not show your nervousness. “Tourists and visitors from other villages have to pay in coin.” 

“Why?”

You shrug. “Not all of the children in my village have the spare coin to be able to purchase frivolous things such as toys. By bartering with secrets, they are still able to receive toys, without feeling as though they’re just being given handouts.”

“Hmm.” 

The Mandalorian is silent for a moment, before she speaks again. “I never thought I’d see the day we allowed an aruetti into our covert. Many of the others were against allowing you to come. They can’t go against the Clan Leader directly, but they weren’t exactly subtle about their displeasure.”

You don’t know what aruetti means, but you can guess it’s not something nice. Din had told you not to worry, that their Clan Leader had given permission for you to be here, but if everyone else didn’t want you here, it would probably be best if you just left–

“Not me though. It’s nice to meet someone outside the covert. I’m Jeyenha, Jeyenha Torrva, but everyone calls me Jeye.” 

Your eyes flick up to stare at the visor in front of you, before falling to the outstretched hand. You cautiously place your hand into hers, unsurprised at the firmness of her handshake. Her sudden mood shift is a little startling, but you don’t have any other choice than to run with it. 

You offer your own name back, and the two of you sit once more in silence, observing the children playing around you. It’s enjoyable, watching them play so eagerly with your father’s little wooden creations that you’re once again surprised when Jeye speaks.

“Your wrist. What happened?” 

Her helmet is tilted down, focused on your hands, which are folded in your lap. You look down, unsurprised to see how dark the bruise has already gotten, the individual finger marks clearly visible. You wince, already wondering how you’re going to hide this from your father. 

“Some shabuir in her village doesn’t understand the word no, apparently.” 

There’s a quiet thunk as Din sits down next to the two of you. Even sitting, his armor makes him look huge, almost to the point of being comical. 

“What?” Jeye’s voice was a low hiss, emphasized strongly by her vocoder. “Someone in your village did this?” 

You nodded slowly, surprised at the venom in her voice. “There’s a man in my village who’s determined to make me his wife, and he doesn’t care that I don’t wish to marry him.”

Din scoffs. “Saying he doesn’t care about your wishes is an understatement. He acted like he could force you into marriage, like he would do so even without your father’s blessing.”

When you don’t say anything, Din falls silent. Jeye leans forward, placing her hand on your knee. 

“Sarad’ika–”

Din barely finishes saying your nickname when you look up, tears in your eyes. “He could. Gallan is one of the richest men in the village. The villagers don’t respect me, and they only barely tolerate my father because he’s a decent medic. Soon Gallan’s going to tire of hearing no, and there’s not one person in my village who would be willing to try and stand up to him.” You brush roughly at your tears, laughing bitterly. “They’ll likely drag me to the altar themselves, all while saying it’s such a blessing that Gallan would even pay attention to me.”

Din growls, the leather of his gloves creaking as his hands form into fists, and Jeye breathes a quiet “No…” at your words. You take a few steadying breaths, shaking your head. 

��It’s not happened yet, and I doubt it’s going to happen soon. For right now at least, Gallan respects my father enough that he’ll wait for his blessing, although my father would likely die before doing so. The best I can do is keep my head down and try to convince him that one of the other women in the village would make a better wife.” 

It’s clear that Din and Jeye don’t know what to say. You doubt that a Mandalorian woman would allow a man to speak to her the way Gallan speaks to you, and you doubt a Mandalorian man would ever try and claim a wife against her will. 

“You’re welcome here,” Jeye offers suddenly, and you look at her, confused. “I’m sure Din, or Paz, or one of the others wouldn’t mind bringing you here whenever you aren’t busy in your village, and it would decrease the amount of time that mir’osik could hassle you.” 

Before you can say anything, you see Din nodding solemnly. “If bringing you here every day stops him from pursuing you, then I’d be happy to do it.” 

You feel tears well up in your eyes, but for a different reason this time. These two wonderful people are offering you an escape, offering up the security of their home so that you might be able to feel safer. “I–I don’t know what to say…”

“Say yes, Sarad’ika. Just say yes.” Din’s voice is insistent. 

You find yourself nodding, before you’re struck by a stray thought. “W–Wait, would your Clan Leader be okay with this? I don’t want to impose or cause any more trouble, and–”

Jeye holds up her hand to stop your rambling, chuckling. “Don’t worry about him.” She seems to glance at Din for a moment before continuing. “I can’t imagine he’ll have any problems with you staying. But it’s getting late, you should be headed back.”

You hadn’t realized it, but as you look up at the ceiling, you see the dusky pink light indicative of the sunsets on Roon. Your Papá would be home soon, and he’d worry if you were gone for too long. Din stands, and offers you a hand, pulling you onto your feet. As you say goodbye to Jeye, you find yourself excited at the prospect of returning. You think you might have made two new friends, and you honestly feel more welcome in the Mandalorian covert than you ever did in your home village. 

***

Over the course of the next few weeks, you find yourself spending hours of nearly every day in the covert. Your Papá was cautious at first, and he insisted on meeting Din, but after Din assured your Papá that you weren’t in any danger, he was more understanding. Your Papá knew how frustrating it could be for you in the village, constantly having to deal with snide insults and veiled barbs about anything from your body, to your manners, to your personality. The covert became an escape of sorts, and while you really only ever talked with Jeye, Din, and the children, it was much better than spending your time in the village.

You’d not met the Clan Leader yet, although both Din and Jeye assured you that he was fine with your presence. Din always acted strange whenever the Clan Leader was brought up, and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why. 

You also never saw Din as relaxed as Jeye, although you attributed that to the fact that he had to leave the covert to pick you up and to take you back to your home. The beskar armor seemed too heavy and cumbersome to be taken off and put back on multiple times a day. 

And even though you tried to avoid it, you couldn’t deny your growing attraction to Din. Even when he wasn’t carrying you in his arms to bring you to and from the covert, he always seemed to be touching you, whether it was a hand against the small of your back, or on your thigh when you were sat next to him, or even just gently brushing against the wrist that Gallan had bruised, although the bruise had long since faded. You slowly grew accustomed to his touches, although you still felt as though your face was on fire every time he did.

You couldn’t tell if he knew what he was doing to you–damn helmet–but you assumed he could. He always seemed to touch you even more whenever you got flustered, almost as if it was a joke, or a game. One time, when he was guiding you into the covert while your eyes were blindfolded, he’d laid his hand against the side of your neck, his thumb pressing gently, but firmly, into your spine where your head met your neck. You swore you felt a jolt of electricity shoot through your body at his touch, and the man had the gall to ask if you were alright, all while his other fingers pressed into the skin right above your collarbone. You’d nodded jerkily, and his thumb had begun to rub soothing circles against your skin. It had felt so good, you’d almost whimpered when he removed his hand.

Despite the firm touches and the subtle flirting–because seriously, what else could it be–you managed to not make a fool of yourself, and you grew to like your new routine. Din had become a protector of sorts, and it made your insides feel light and floaty, the way you felt the first time Din flew with you. Life was good. Gallan left you alone, your Papá continued to carve toys, and for the first time ever, it felt like you’d found somewhere that you were wanted. So, of course, everything had to change.

It was about a month into your visits to the covert that this change happened. You were in the kitchen one morning when you noticed that there was a Mandalorian walking up the path to your home, but it’s not Din. You dry your hands and step outside, an anxious, gnawing feeling in your stomach telling you that something’s wrong. Din has been the one to pick you up every day, and you’re terrified something’s happened to him.

Before you can even open your mouth to voice your concerns, the Mandalorian is speaking. “Everything’s fine, Din just had some business to attend to, so he sent me.”

You cock an eyebrow, a little wary of how fast this stranger assessed your emotions, but you’re grateful nothing appears to be wrong. He stands there, silently, and you get the impression he’s waiting on you. You duck back inside the house to grab your bag, locking the door behind you. The Mando in front of you is just radiating this awkward energy, and you feel bad. You’d grown so used to Din, you didn’t really know how to react to a different Mandalorian. 

“Um, so…” You trail off, grimacing at how awkward you sound. “Do I just–” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “I’m sorry. What’s your name?” 

The Mandalorian was silent for just a moment, but then he answered. “Paz.” 

Your eyes widened, recognizing the name. “Oh, Din and Jeye have both mentioned you before. It’s nice to meet you.” 

Paz shook his head. “Of course they did.” He chuckled. “Jeye is my wife.” 

Your jaw dropped. Whenever Jeye had talked about Paz, she’d never mentioned that he was her husband. You were so going to give her shit for this. 

After Paz finished laughing at you, he tied your blindfold and scooped you up in his arms, taking off into the air. The entire flight, you couldn’t help but compare Paz to Din. Paz was a good deal bigger than Din, although you weren’t entirely sure how that was possible. His arms were big and strong, like Din’s, but being carried by Paz didn’t set butterflies loose in your stomach. You tried to ignore it, but your brain refused to stop trying to compare the two men. 

You were tense the entire ride to the covert, and you nearly sighed in relief when the two of you touched down. Paz set you on your feet, leading you into the cave system. He removed the blindfold when the two of you were standing in front of the main door, and he let you adjust to the lighting before he pulled the door open.

As he led you into the main room, you were surprised to see a large group of Mandalorians gathered where you usually sat with Din and Jeye. You were even more surprised when Paz suddenly stepped in front of you, his arm out slightly, keeping you behind his considerable bulk. You gently touched the back plate of his armor, silently communicating your confusion. 

“Stay behind me.” 

You suck in a breath, fear gripping you as you try to make yourself smaller behind Paz. You’re not sure what’s going on, and you don’t want to take any chances. You take a small measure of comfort from the fact that Paz is built like a goddamn tank, and that he could easily protect you if things turn violent, but you hope it doesn’t come to that. You can hear all the raised voices, but it takes you a moment to make out any distinguishable words, everyone is yelling too loudly. 

“SHE’S A DANGER TO OUR TRIBE!”

The booming voice cuts through the others, and you barely peek around Paz’s arm to see a Mando you’d seen a couple times before–one who always seemed to be glaring at you, despite the fact that you couldn’t actually see said glare–toe to toe with another Mandalorian. 

“She poses no threat to us.”

The other Mandalorian is calm, although his voice is hard with anger. With a start, you realize that this must be the Clan Leader. His chest is bare, although he’s adorned with multiple beaded necklaces. You can see a thick fur cape draped across his shoulders, but it’s his helmet that truly catches your attention. It’s made of beskar, like all the other Mando’s helmets, but attached to each side are two thick ivory horns, coming out and curving around towards his face, ending in wicked sharp points. He’s taller than nearly everyone else in the group, and his stance is commanding and powerful. 

“LEAVE HER WITH HER OWN TRIBE. WE DON’T WANT HER HERE, SHE ENDANGERS US, OUR WAY OF LIFE, OUR CHILDREN–”

You squeak when the Clan Leader moves, his bare hand coming up quickly to wrap around the other Mando’s throat.

“You think I would endanger the children?” His voice is cold, emotionless. “Do you truly think so little of me? After everything I’ve done for our tribe, every battle I’ve fought, you still think you have any right to question me?” His voice isn’t rising in volume, but you can hear his mounting anger. “I am the Clan Leader. What I say goes. If you don’t like that, we can take this to The Pit.”

Paz sucks in a breath, and you’re about to ask what The Pit is when a hand lands on your arm. You whirl around, your whole body tense, but you relax somewhat when you realize it’s Jeye. Paz looks at her, and they seem to have a silent conversation before Paz nods, and Jeye takes your arm, leading you back and through one of the doorways behind you. 

She gestures for you to stay quiet for a moment, before leading you into a room you’ve never been in before. There’s a fire pit in the center of the room, with separate areas sectioned off with curtains for cooking and eating. She leads you further in, around one set of curtains, and your eyes land on the large bed that dominates the space. She gestures for you to sit, and once you do, she sighs deeply.

“What was that?” 

You’re ashamed at the way your voice shakes as though you’re scared, because you’re not. Not really. It was unsettling, seeing the argument, which you’ve realized by now was about you, although hearing the Clan Leader defend you so vehemently left a warm feeling in your belly. 

Jeye sighs again, and begins to pace. “Some of the tribe still has reservations about you being here. We’d thought they’d gotten over it, but apparently not all of them have. Doric decided that today was a good day to confront Din about it.”

You look up at Jeye in confusion. “I didn’t see Din in there. Is he okay? What happened? Is the Clan Leader mad?” Your voice is growing more frantic, as you imagine what could have happened to him. 

Jeye stops pacing, her helmet turned towards you. “Wait, what? You… you don’t know? Din never–” Jeye scoffs. “No, of course he hasn’t told you.” 

“Told me what?” 

There’s silence.

“Jeye. Din hasn’t told me what?”

There’s more silence, and you open your mouth to repeat yourself a third time when she speaks. 

“Din is the Clan Leader.” 

Your mouth snaps shut, your eyes widen comically. You open and close your mouth, trying to find the words to say… something, anything about what you’re feeling in that moment, but all your traitorous brain can focus on is how heart-stoppingly attractive Din looked without his armor on. 

Before you can say anything, you hear the door open. Your eyes fly to the opening in the curtains, and lo and behold, there’s Din. He pauses, clearly taken aback that Jeye is here, but he doesn’t speak. Jeye nods twice, once to you and once to Din before she brushes past him and leaves the room, not staying around to try and explain the bombshell she’s just dropped on you.

Din stands in the gap between the curtains, just staring at you. You’re trying to look at his helmet, but his current state of dress is extremely distracting. His chest is golden and tanned, marred here and there by scars of all shapes and sizes, but it doesn’t make him any less beautiful. You can’t help but notice the trail of dark hair on his abdomen, leading to his belt buckle, which prominently features a Mudhorn, the signet of his clan. He’s wearing canvas pants, tucked into a pair of sturdy boots with a fur trim, a fur trim that matches the one on his cloak. His gloves cover his arms up to the elbow, but they’re tight enough that his muscles bulge through the fabric. 

You can feel your face burning as you take in the Mandalorian before you, so unlike the one you’ve gotten to know for the past few weeks. The small infatuation you'd been harboring only grows as you look at Din now. He moves into the room, and you marvel at how he can move silently, despite his size. 

He stops in front of you, his gloved hand coming up to grasp gently at your chin, pulling your face up so that he can look at you. Lacing your hands together in your lap seems like the best course of action, because otherwise you might just reach out and touch him, just to see if he’s real, and you’re not sure he’d appreciate that. 

Din’s thumb rests against your cheek, stroking softly as his helmet is tilted down, looking at you. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.” His voice is quiet, apologetic, and you wonder how come you didn’t recognize it when he was arguing with the other Mando. “I promise, most of the tribe doesn’t feel that way.”

You grin, or at least, you try to. “So, when you kept saying that the Clan Leader was fine with me coming here–” 

Din nods. “Truly, I am more than fine with you coming to the covert every day.”

You snort, your own hand coming up to rest against Din’s, which has moved to cradle your cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You turn your face into Din’s palm, placing a gentle kiss against the warm leather. You hear his sharp intake of breath through the vocoder, so you do it again. 

“I–I didn’t want you to treat me differently,” he offers, taking your hand and pulling you to your feet. He was standing so close, and now that you’re standing, you’re practically chest to chest. “I wanted to get to know you, without you feeling… obligated to treat me like a leader.”

“Why me?”

The words leave your lips before you can stop them, and you feel your cheeks heat in embarrassment. You look down, your hands absentmindedly fiddling with the worn fabric of your apron. 

Din’s hand reaches out and gently grasps yours, and you can’t help but notice that his hand can easily encompass both of yours. He curls his fingers under your chin, bringing your eyes back up, forcing you to look into his visor. 

“You’re so strong, Sarad’ika.” His hand slid from underneath your chin, his palm moving to cup the side of your neck, his thumb gently resting against your beating pulse. “When I saw you arguing with that shabuir in the village, even though he could easily overpower you, you weren’t afraid.” 

The intensity in his voice is doing funny things to your stomach, the feeling of butterflies increasing in strength so much so that you’re worried if you open your mouth they might escape. Your skin tingles where his hands are touching you, and you’ve never felt this before, with anyone. 

“I–I’m sorry that my presence has caused trouble–” You quickly plow on, stopping Din from brushing aside your apology. “I know you said it’s okay, and that you’re fine with me here, but I know not everyone feels that way, and I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

He sighs, and it’s very hard to not look down and watch the way his chest rises and falls with his breathing. He moves his hand so that he can intertwine his fingers with yours, bringing your combined hands up to rest on his chest, directly over his heart. You suck in a breath, and his thumb gently presses against your pulse point, slowly dragging back and forth over your skin in a soothing motion. 

“I don’t care what they think, Sarad’ika. They know I would not needlessly endanger the tribe, for them to even suggest such a thing is unacceptable. There will always be those who do not like me, but they are few, and their voices are not as loud as it would seem.” Din gently leans his head down, careful of his horns, and rests his helmet against your brow. “I informed the tribe of my intentions. They will not dare to protest your appearance here, not now.”

Your brow furrows in confusion, although you are enjoying having Din so close. “What are your intentions, Din?”

He chuckles softly, and you can feel it reverberating through his chest. “Is it not obvious, Sarad’ika? You’ve come to mean so much to me over these past few weeks, and I will confess that I do not want to let you go.”

Your heart is racing at his words, and you feel unsteady on your feet, similar to how you felt after your first time flying. 

“I know that Jeye has explained how our tribe works, and that the Clan Leader is held responsible for the continuation of the tribe.” You make a small noise of agreement, and wait for him to finish. “In times of peace, it is… customary, that the Clan Leader takes a riduur, a spouse.” Your mouth goes dry, and your eyes widen. 

“Sarad’ika, know that I am not asking this of you lightly. I understand that you may wish to say no, and that is your choice, and I will respect you no matter your decision.” Your breathing is shallow, and your heart is beating so fast that you’re not sure you’re going to survive the next words to come out of Din’s mouth. 

“But if you’ll have me… I would take you as my wife.”

[bisexualklausmikaelson]

and all the magic we made (8/?)

a/n: another short update! enjoy!!

-

The sun, in all its ways, surprises Rebekah Mikaelson to no end.

She used to think - the universe revolved around her - all the planets aligning perfectly just to accommodate her utmost desires.

Be it the most expensive jewels, gowns from all over the world, even the hearts of countless men.

Well, every man except the one right in front of her.

"Marcel," she sighs, as he paces towards her while she waits outside Hayley's grocery store. "Is there something you want?" She wonders, tilting her head to one side.

He crosses his arms around his chest, sighing. "You know," he says, "stalking someone is considered a crime," he goes on with - referring to Rebekah's presence in Hayley's workplace.

She rolls her eyes at his constant infatuation with this mere girl - one with not a hint of make-up on her face, with the same old jeans she's had since their high school days, with her greasy hair in a high pony -

"I just wish to speak with her," Rebekah rephrases, biting her bottom lip, "she has my niece hostage, after all," she chuckles.

"She's her mother," Marcel reminds her, "she has a right to keep her away from you."

His words hurt her more than he'll ever know - she doesn't understand why he insists on being so crude to her. What had she done to deserve such distain from him? She wondered.

"Why do fight this hard for her?" Rebekah asks, sounding weak. You never fought this hard for me, she doesn't say but he knows that it's implied.

"Who do you think has been helping her raise Hope, all these years?" He retorts, feeling even more defensive. "If it weren't for me, she would've been all alone."

This feeling - the guilt - Rebekah truly hates it.

"She could've told us, we would've been there for her," she whispers softly. "She kept such a huge secret from me, I thought she was my friend."

And, for a moment, Marcel's clear vision of Hayley Marshall is suddenly clouded. He sees Rebekah, the pitiful girl he has always known.

"She didn't know how to reach you. All the Mikaelsons disappeared after graduation," he recalls, "you didn't even say goodbye to me," he unexpectedly releases.

Just then, Rebekah is quiet.

It takes her too long to realize that she had broken his heart first.

"I'm starting my shift soon," he abruptly tells her, as he rushes out of her way. "Please don't pester Hayley while I'm gone." He begs and he's off.

Rebekah focuses her gaze back on Hayley who is on the other side of the window.

Right, she was here for a reason, after all.

-

(Marcel's words ring in her ears - all the Mikaelsons disappeared after graduation - she wonders how he knows this. He must have tried to contact them, he must have looked around for years.

Rebekah's envious of her brother, at least he's got an easy explanation. His dream of being an artist, his ambition, his passion, his successes.

He left this dingy little town and made something of himself.

While Rebekah just became someone's ghost).

-

Her shift feels a lot longer than usual - Hayley isn't one to complain too much at work, she does as she'd told, clocks in and out on time. Her co-workers are not exactly her close friends but, they're the kind that don't bother her too much and truth be told, she prefers it that way.

She likes to maintain her distance from people.

When she can anyway.

"Oh good," unfortunately, Hayley doesn't have the luxury to choose who she can and cannot keep at bay. Not when the Mikaelsons are involved. "You're finally done," Rebekah sighs, trailing after her.

Hayley continues to walk away, ignoring the blonde until, she grabs her by the hand.

"What do you want now?" Hayley asks.

"My niece," Rebekah insists, squeezing her hand tight. "I am going to meet her, whether you'll allow me to or not," she demands.

Klaus' tone invades Hayley's mind - these two siblings really are way too alike. "You Mikealsons really don't understand what boundaries are, do you?" she comments, jerking her arm back.

Rebekah widens her eyes and tilts her head to one side. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asks and a blush rising to Hayley's cheeks immediately gives her away. "Did something happen with you and Klaus?" Rebekah deducts.

Hayley unexpectedly thinks of the softness of his lips - how warm they were.

"Did he kiss you?" Rebekah suddenly figures out.

Hayley bites down on her tongue. "That," she curses, "Doesn't matter," she tells her.

The other girl takes a step closer, clutching her hand over her chest. This was it - her way in, her way to get closer to the woman before her. She was vulnerable.

"I know this might be difficult to believe but, he has changed - despite everything you might think of him," Rebekah softly says. "Klaus is-"

"I know," Hayley cuts her off mid-sentence. "He's this famous artist now right? He's got fame, fortune, everything he's ever wanted," she continues, smiling.

Rebekah smiles too, she thinks of her brother's countless hours studying and perfecting his work, their father's discouragement, how Klaus overcame it all. "That's right," she nods.

Well, almost everything, she thinks, offering Hayley a curious glance.

"And where do you think that left me?" she finally breathes, sounding hurt. "Stuck in this little town, raising his kid." Hayley reveals.

Rebekah feels a sharp pain in her chest - she had been so blindly loyal to her brother.

She hadn't realized that the girl before her was just so incredibly broken.

"Now how do you think that makes me feel?" Hayley shouts, before bravely walking away from her.

-

(Her daughter is her entire world - her reason for getting out of bed in the morning, her reason for living.

Hope is her everything.

Even though, just now, she sounded like she felt regretful about her decision to keep this child. There was a hint of jealousy in her tone - that Klaus got to go on and have this amazing life without having to worry about raising a kid.

She feels immensely guilty for her anger - for ever thinking that things could've been different).

-

Klaus calls her endlessly -

Yeah, he messed up, big time.

That kiss was - untimely at best.

Maybe a bit tasteless but, he couldn't say that he'd take it back.

After all, he's waited so long to feel her lips against his once again.

He wasn't going to let go of her so easily.

-

That night - Marcel is the one who comes to her doorstep with a box of donuts (sour cream, her favourite) and warm cups of coffee (chocolate milk for Hope, of course).

Hayley leans against her door, letting him in.

He was so reliable, even on her worst days.

"How did you know?" she laughs, taking the cup of coffee from his hand. He follows her inside, setting the food down on the table.

"That you were having a rough day?" Marcel shrugs. "You weren't answering my calls - you only ignore me when you're really upset about something," he tells her - thinking of all the small instances where she had been angry enough to ignore even him.

At times, Marcel had been her lifeline, her most reliable friend.

So when she didn't answer him - it really worried him.

"If you say so," Hayley simply says, failing to realize his amount of care for her.

He's used to it - painfully so. "Well, we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Marcel releases, sounding sad.

He is grateful that just then, Hope runs into the room, like a tornado.

"Uncle Marcel!" she shouts, running towards him and grabbing his leg. "I'm so happy to see you!!" she cheers, happily eyeing the donuts and chocolate milk he brought her.

He smiles, reaching down to pick her up. "Same here, Hope," he says, as her sparkling eyes meet his. God, they really are all he needs to help him feel better about his day. "You want to play some video games together?" He asks, happily.

"Yeah!" Hope nods, leading him towards the living room.

Hayley watches how content they are together and can't help the amount of relief she feels in her heart.

(She'll never truly know how much Marcel actually means to her - that he is indeed, always there for her).

-

[castieltheavengerr]

Wormhole - Part 2

Series Masterlist

Synopsis: Y/N wakes up in a place she doesn’t know of, with a man claiming to be a god by her side. Superheroes don’t exist, right? In time, she finds out things about herself that she never knew before, and even gets to live with a hot guy, who also happens to be a crime fighting superhero. Will Y/N ever be able to go back home, or has she found it already?

Warnings: Mentions of a panic attack, swearing, allusions to a car crash, a beer bottle mentioned

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Oh my god i’m so sorry this took so long school has been super busy, i’m doing this with the little free time i have. anyway, here’s part 2 :)

You wait next to Thor in an open field. He mentioned something about some sort of guardians coming to pick him up, and he said that they’d likely bring you to America before they left. You’d asked who they are, where they’re from, but he wouldn’t tell you. It’s like he’s trying to surprise you.

Even though you still have almost no idea of what’s going on, you don’t want to leave Thor’s side. He was the first person you saw, he’s nice, and you trust him. Plus, he could easily protect you if it came to it. As you’re waiting, you hear a loud whooshing noise. Thor looks at you and smiles.

“Ah, that must be the morons. Up there,” he says, pointing to the sky. You expect a plane, but instead you’re met with a blue and orange craft that looks vaguely like it could have come from Star Wars. A large gust of wind hits you, and you fall on the ground. Thor laughs heartily, and starts to walk towards where the ship landed. You hop up, and apprehensively follow him. A ramp lowers to the ground from the ship, and the weirdest looking group of people and things walks out. Someone who you assume is human, dressed in a long red coat, a humanoid figure that is grey with red stripes, and the weirdest ones of all; a walking branch, who’s playing on a game console that looks similar to a Game Boy, another humanoid figure with antennae coming out of her head, and a fucking raccoon, who happens to be holding a gun.

They walk towards Thor, all smiling, except for the human, who looks a bit pissed off at the god. They then see you, sort of hiding behind Thor’s enormous body, and get confused. Then, the weirdest part of your day happens. The raccoon talks.

“Who the fuck is this, Thor? Did you find out you have a kid? That would be wonderful,” the raccoon says, looking you dead in the eye. You’re sure you look like an idiot, mouth open and eyes wide, but a fucking raccoon just talked to you. You think you have a right to be surprised. Thor laughs again.

“No, she isn’t my child. This is Y/N. We just have a bit of a problem, and I need to get her to America. I know some people who may be able to help her. Could you bring us there before we head out?” Thor asks, trying to be as vague as he can, which you are grateful for. Sure, they all look like freaks, but you sure as hell don’t want to be seen as one. The man in the red coat looks at you, seeming to consider it, before nodding his head.

“Yeah, sure, as long as it doesn’t take long. I don’t like this stupid planet, and want to get out of here as soon as possible.” You think, and consider the fact that given the looks of these people, and the weirdness of this new place, aliens are definitely real, so his words make sense. Thor smiles and claps his hands together.

“Great! Shall we be on our way then?” The group turns towards their ship and starts walking, and you and Thor follow suit. You walk inside the ship, and are disgusted by the nastiness of it. There’s garbage everywhere, and a T-shirt with some white subst- oh god. You just turn your head away, trying not to think about it. Thor turns to you and starts to introduce the Guardians. “That there is the captain, Peter Quill. He’s from Midgard, just like you,” he says, but then sees the look of confusion on your face. “Midgard is what we call Earth on Asgard, where I’m from.” You nod your head, just going along with it. “The rabbit there is Rocket,” Thor says, but then the raccoon pipes up.

“I’m not a rabbit asshole!” You just stare ahead, still not wanting to comprehend the fact that apparently raccoons can talk. Thor smiles and continues.

“Whatever you say rabbit. The tree over there is Groot.” The tree looks at you and waves, before it starts to talk. If you hadn’t already witnessed crazier things, you’d say you’d accidentally had some hallucinogenic drugs.

“I am Groot,” the tree says, and you nod slowly.

“I’m Y/N?” you apprehensively say, not sure how to respond. This time, it’s the raccoon that laughs.

“No, those are the only three words he can say. It takes a while to learn how to speak it.” You just give the raccoon, who you remember is Rocket, a small thumbs-up. Thor continues.

“The woman over there is Mantis,” he says, and she smiles sheepishly at you, her antennae bobbing up and down. You try to smile back, but you’re sure it comes out as a kind of grimace.

“And that over there is Drax.” The weird looking dude gives you a small wave, and turns back to whatever he was doing. You still have your arms crossed defensively over your chest, and as you take a look around, you get overwhelmed.

“Guess this is what I get for wishing for a more exciting life,” you think, regretting the thought even crossing your mind. Rocket walks over to you and pokes your leg.

“So what’s the deal here, huh Thor? Random chick that needs to get someplace? Seems fishy to me,” he says, giving you a side-eye. Thor looks over at you, as if asking for permission to tell them what he knows, and you give him a little nod.

“No, not at all. Y/N popped up in the middle of the street in New Asgard, not conscious, so I brought her to a bed. She woke up and freaked out, understandably so. She knows nothing about myself, the Avengers, or the Snap. She was afraid of me, and somehow sent a bottle at my head. I’ve called some old friends with SHIELD to help out,” Thor tells them, and they all eye you weirdly, especially at the whole ‘snap’ part.

The one named Peter shakes his head and waves his hands in front of himself. “Wait, you mean to tell me you don’t know about the Snap?” He gave you a look like you were the stupidest person in the world.

“Uh, well, if what you’re referring to is the fact that half of the fucking universe just turned to ash out of nowhere, then yeah, that never happened,” you defensively say, not wanting to deal with this douchebag’s shit. He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Aren’t you like, 10?” he says, mocking you. You give him the bird, and everyone else laughs.

“I’m 16, asshole,” you say, having heard that phrase one too many times. The Drax dude laughs loudly, and points at Peter.

“The small girl is feisty! I like her!” he loudly says, doubling over in laughter. You just scowl. Thor claps his hands, and tries to change the subject.

“Alright! Quill, how far away are we from the compound?” Thor asks in his booming voice. Peter walks over to the front of the ship to check something, at which point you realize that no one is flying the ship. You figure it must be on autopilot.

“We should be there in about 30 minutes,” Quill says, taking a seat. Thor smiles and claps your back a bit too hard, and you stumble forward. Before you can fall, he catches you by your shoulder, and pulls you back up. You turn to him, frowning. He smiles sheepishly.

“Sorry, I’m used to doing that with my friends. They’re quite built.” You let out a small smile, and move to sit on the floor. Thor moves to talk to the raccoon, and you’re left all alone. You put your head in your hands, wondering how this could have happened to you. Did you get teleported to an alternate universe, or did something else happen? A small sob escapes your mouth, and then when you feel a small hand on your back, you look up. The tree named Groot is standing next to you, giving you a small smile. You smile back, glad to have him care, even if he is just a branch.

“I am Groot,” he says, almost sympathetically. While you have no idea what he’s trying to say, you appreciate the gesture.

“Even though I have no idea what that means, thanks. I just don’t know what to do. Nothing makes sense, there’s gods now, and raccoons and trees can talk.” You put your head back in your hands, overwhelmed by the absurdity of it all. Then, you feel him poke your arm, you slowly look up, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. Groot holds out his Game Boy to you. You reach out and gingerly take it, looking at the game he’s playing. It looks like a game your parents would have played when they were kids. It’s called Arcade Defender. You press a button, and the screen starts up. You smile and start shooting the fuck out of those aliens.

For the next thirty minutes, you and a talking tree sit next to each other, taking turns playing a game from the ‘80s, while riding in a spaceship with a literal god, a talking raccoon, two aliens, and an asshole human. You’re just actually starting to enjoy yourself when Thor walks over to you two, a smile on his face at seeing you having some form of fun.

“Sorry, Y/N, but we’re almost to the compound. It’s better to stand and hold something while landing,” he says, feeling bad to have to disrupt your enjoyment. You nod and stand up with Groot, and hand him the Game Boy. Just as you stand up, the ship moves considerably, and you nearly fall over, but Groot catches you.

“Thanks,” you say, smiling at the tree. You lean on the wall until the ship lands, trying your best not to fall. You notice Quill staring at you, a weird look on his face. He probably thinks you’re just an idiot for not knowing how to stand on a landing spaceship. Dick.

“Ok, everyone, we’re here,” Quill says. He looks over at you and Thor. “You guys can head on out, we’ll be here when you’re ready to leave, Thor.” All eyes turn to you, and you just want to shrivel up and die, but not before screaming, “I didn’t ask for this! I’m not some spectacle to look at! I’m a normal human being!” But you keep your mouth shut. You don’t want to draw any more attention to yourself that you already have.

Thor turns to you before walking towards the ramp, which has lowered itself to the ground. You follow him, wrapping your arms around your midsection. You slowly walk down the ramp, the sunlight blinding your eyes. You put your hand above them to be able to see, and are met with a sight to behold.

Before you stand two people, a man and a woman. The woman is normal enough looking, with her brown hair up in a bun. However, the man is the one that catches you off guard. He’s wearing a long black coat, almost like the one the Quill dude was wearing- actually, everything he’s wearing is black. He’s also wearing an eyepatch over his left eye.

“This the one Thor?” the man asks, with a voice deep and loud enough to make you jump. He eyes you quite aggressively, and you shrink into yourself.

“Yes, this is Y/N L/N. Thought it would be best to bring her to you since you have, ah, expertise in this area.”

The man side eyes you. “You could say that,” he says, looking you right in the eye. You shift your legs uncomfortably, not sure how to read this man. He clears his throat. “I’m Director Fury of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Logistics and Enforcement Division, more commonly known as SHIELD,” he says to you in greeting, but does not extend his hand. “This is Agent Hill,” he says, gesturing towards the woman besides him. She gives you a tight lipped smile. “Ms. L/N, if you would follow me please,” Fury asks, but you don’t really think you have a choice. He and Hill start to walk towards the building, and you follow suit, but you notice a lack of presence beside you. You turn around, and notice Thor just standing there, not walking with you.

You stop, and look at him quizzically. He gives you a small smile.

“Aren’t you coming?” you ask, your voice coming out small and scared. Fury and Hill stop walking behind you. Thor shakes his head sadly, looking at you with something you can’t pinpoint in his eyes. Even though you may have only met a few hours ago, he’s the one person you trust (besides Groot), and he seems to have grown quite fond of you as well.

“I must attend to my duties with the Guardians. I really am sorry that I can’t stay with you Y/N, but I trust Fury and Hill very much. I have no doubt they will help you with your problems.” You know Thor truly means what he says, but you’re scared. You start to feel your lungs constrict, and it’s getting hard to breathe. You hear Thor trying to talk to you, but you can’t tell what he’s saying. Then you hear Fury’s booming voice yelling at you.

“Ms. L/N, you need to calm down. Please come with us,” he says, an edge of wariness in his voice. You shake your head, the world still spinning around you, your lungs betraying you. Why is he leaving you? You have no one left from your life, and now the one person whom you trust is leaving too?

You have no sense of your surroundings until you feel someone grab your wrist. However gently they grabbed it, you still freak out, and feel a wave of energy move through you. The next thing you know, you see Fury flying across the lawn, and Hill is yelling into something in her hand. Everyone is yelling and you can’t handle it. You start screaming yourself, sobs wracking your body.

You hear loud footsteps running towards you, and a hand grabs your upper arm harshly. You wrench yourself out of the iron grip, screaming at the person.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t fucking touch me!” you scream, and are vaguely aware of another large, muscled man flying through the air. Everyone is yelling, and you’re overwhelmed. You put your hands over your ears, wanting to block out the noise, but it does next to nothing. You continue to sob, your chest heaving from your hyperventilating and continued wails.

With everything going on around you, you fail to notice the bodies coming from behind you, grabbing your arms and shoulders stringently. You try to fight them off, but before the energy makes its way through you, you feel a blinding pain in the small of your back, concurrent with the loud sound of electricity crackling. You scream and fall to your knees, and the hands force you down. A sharp prick is felt on your neck, and even in seconds, you already feel yourself drifting away. The hands turn you over, and before you slip into unconsciousness, you hear Thor’s voice.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You’ll be alright.”

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Taglist:

@eridanuswave

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

[artistic-writer]

Sparking the Pavement :: CS Moto GP AU :: Chapter 6

Title: Sparking the Pavement by @artistic-writer Rating: E Summary: Killian Jones has everything he has ever dreamed of.  He likes fast bikes and even faster women, that is until almost losing his brother makes him rethink his life choices.  And then a chance encounter with a blonde bombshell on the race track gives him the chance to change and find love, but as usual, team politics get in the way and for the first time in his life, Killian can’t just get what he wants.  Moto GP racing AU.

AO3 - FF - Ko-Fi

A/N: I FOUND MY TAG LIST!  But please let me know if you want to be added/removed as its a little out of date.

So, here is ch 6 (or ch 7 if you are on ao3) and i can’t thank you guys enough for sticking with this story.  Even if i cannot reply, i read each and every tag, comment and smile when i get kudos.  It’s been a time for this update, and I am so sorry for the delay.  You know, life stuff.  Prepare your emotions because this one is a rollercoaster - my lovely beta @hollyethecurious​ refers to it as ‘the big reveal’ - Enjoy!

Taglist: @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate @winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @initiala @cocohook38 @branlovesouat @teamhook @snidgetsafan @sherlockianwhovian @shireness-says @wingedlioness@therooksshiningknight @ilovemesomekillianjones @bmbbcs4evr @blowmiakisscolin @deathbycaptainswan @onceuponaprincessworld​ @chinawoodfan  @seriouslyhooked @snowbellewells @wordsmith-storyweaver @jennjenn615 @delightfully-difficult-pirate @doodlelolly0910 @tiganasummertree @hookedmom @thejollyroger-writer @rachie1940 @unworried-corsair @cs-forlife @notoriouscs @killian-whump @darkcolinodonorgasm @mariakov81 @strangestarlighttree @shardminds​ @thisonesatellite

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Racing was fun until it wasn’t. Turning his greatest ability into his career had seen Killian well enough, but at what cost? His father was gone. His brother was gone. Racing had taken everything and everyone he had ever loved away from him, but he held no regret or resentment, because whilst he had sacrificed so much, he had also gained. Wisdom from riders much older than he was, always willing to offer guidance and support to the next generation. Experience from every country he had visited on the world circuit, each culture different from the next and offering him knowledge beyond his wildest childhood dreams.

And Emma.

Emma had turned up, out of nowhere like an angel. She knew the game, she knew the consequences, and somehow, she had known him. From their first touch, she had beguiled him and made a prisoner of his heart. Killian wasn’t sure if he believed in love at first sight before, but he was most certainly under the assumption that he did now. One night had shown him compassion, that there could be light at the end of the tunnel of darkness his life had become, and before the evening was over, he had been sure his heart could be healed.

It sounded cliché; that a man could fall in love with a woman simply by looking at her, but that’s how he felt. Emma was warmth, a wholesome goddess of a woman who had soothed his aching heart simply by scaling the barriers around it. Admittedly, they hadn’t been that high before, but after losing Liam, Killian was sure they would stop him from ever finding love. In a way, he was certain that he didn’t even deserve it.

“Why are you awake?” Emma whispered into his ear. She was tucked up behind him, arm slung heavily over his abdomen where her thumb busily stroked through the hairs on his stomach.

“I’m not, love,” Killian lied groggily.

Emma feigned her surprise with an audible gasp. “Who said that?”

As Killian laughed, Emma tightened her grip and pressed her smile to his shoulder blade, her plump, warm lips kissing him and making him shudder. She had felt the moment he’d woken up, his breathing changing to shorter, shallower breaths as opposed to the long, deep, light snoring she had been listening to. She’d waited, listening to the hitch in his throat that clearly indicated another bad dream, and when he hadn’t settled, she’d decided to let him know she was awake too.

“Why are you awake, love?” Killian asked softly, pulling her arm until she was flush against his back. He loosened his grip and dragged his fingers over her forearm creating invisible patterns on her skin before arching his neck to press his lips to the inside of her wrist. “You have a big day tomorrow,” he mumbled against her skin.

“You’re right, I do,” Emma agreed with a groan as she moved to roll away from him. He was reluctant to let her go, grunting a little when he felt her arm slip from his grasp. “But I can’t sleep.”

“Oh?” Killian was intrigued now and a little worried, so he rolled himself over so that they were facing each other, their faces nose to nose on opposite pillows. “Are you scared?” He teased, knowing full well she was just the opposite, something she agreed with by giving him an audible scoff.

“Maybe a little,” she relented quietly in the darkness.

“Hey,” Killian soothed, shuffling even closer to her and brushing the hair from her brow. He tucked it down behind her ear, enjoying the warmth of her skin on his fingertips and the feel of her ear lifting as she smiled. “You’re going to do great, you’re going to be the best, and everyone else is going to be so jealous of your ability to be better than them.”

Emma snorted a small giggle. “You don’t even know what my new job is,” she told him in a soft voice, her hand combing through the soft hairs on his chest that had now come within reach of her hungry fingers.

“Doesn’t matter,” Killian said confidently, his sex messed hair rubbing the pillowcase as he shook his head. “If you can do whatever it is half as well as you ride a bike, you need not worry.”

Emma was silent, her eyebrows moving in thought as she contemplated his words. Killian was right. She knew what she was doing, even if she and Killian hadn’t discussed the particulars of it in between all of their other, more enjoyable activities. The track was a big place, with a lot of moving parts, so he would at least know that they worked for the same company, and she figured that was all he needed to know in order to open his heart to her so readily. It wouldn’t be her dream job, but she’d never ride again. Neal had seen to that a long time ago, but Emma would be damned if she was going to let that cretin ruin her life now. Especially since the man who was currently bundling her up in his arms and pulling her atop his prone form would have something to say about it if he did.

“Sleep,” Killian ordered gently, rearranging the comforter so that neither of them would get too hot in the position they were in now. Emma stretched out over his body like a cat, a welcome weight covering his entire body and her legs tangling with his when he placed his hand over her spine to hold her in place. Killian pressed his lips to her forehead, letting his lips linger on her skin and inhaling her musky scent. “It won’t be long before you’re going to need to shower.”

Emma smirked, her lips brushing the super soft hairs on his chest where her head lay. “You’re going to need one too, hotshot,” she said coyly.

“Oh, I know,” Killian said smugly. “And I’m all about showering together to save the planet.”

“That’s good to know,” Emma added with a smirk. “I might sleep better knowing that every time I come around to hear you play the piano or to get fucked on your very expensive bike, which you owe me, by the way, I’ll be doing the planet a service by sharing a shower with you.”

Killian laughed and Emma’s whole body moved, rocking from side to side before he steadied her and encouraged her to tuck her head under his chin. Her hair caught on his stubble but she hardly noticed, the heat their naked bodies pressed together was generating too distracting.

“If I promise to fuck you on the ES1, will you promise to get some sleep?” Killian barely had the words out of his mouth before he was yawning, fingers lightly clawing over the skin near the base of her spine as he rode out the shiver that came along with it.

“I’d do anything for that,” Emma chuckled before opening her mouth wide for a yawn of her own.

“Good.” He kissed the top of her head as her yawn overtook her. “Now you’ll have something to look forward to.”

Killian wrapped both arms around her as she laughed out the last of her yawn, holding her more tightly than he had all evening, never wanting to let her go. He knew the morning would be bittersweet when Emma had to leave, but they had already decided that they would see each other again. Killian just hoped that his heart wouldn’t miss her too much, and that his nightmares wouldn’t crawl their way back in without her there.

--

If Emma thought the night before would make it hard to forget about Killian Jones in a hurry, she hadn’t anticipated the next morning. She’d never been awoken by someone so eager to please her before. Killian had made sure she woke up slowly, gently caressing her body until it had responded before her brain, the soft smile of sexual excitement plastered across her face. His hands were hot but soothing, like the heat of the sun in winter, and he had worked her body into a frenzy with just his touch. By the time Emma had opened her eyes, she was achingly wet for him and he had obliged her whimper of discontent, hooked her thigh over his hips and slipped into her sodden folds just like he belonged.

The shower wasn’t bad either. She’d definitely be up for saving the planet again.

As hard as he had made it to leave, Emma wasn’t about to miss the first day of her new job. Honda was a big name, not only in the racing world, but all over the world, and Emma wasn’t about to ruin her chances at making the best impression she could by turning up late. If she thought the team name was a big hitter, she had no idea how expansive the Honda Team Headquarters site actually was. Vast didn’t even begin to describe the place that seemed to go on for miles and miles when Emma stepped out of her car, the sun in her eyes as it rose above the building in front of her.

Emma slipped the sunglasses she was wearing off her head and gave her hair a shake until it fell back into place. Propping them on her nose so that she could look into the light a bit easier, she tilted her head back, taking in the building in front of her. It was much larger than any team building she had seen before and just like every site so large, it was bustling with activity. Some people she recognized because she had met them before, most of them rubbing shoulders with her father or his company at one function or another, but by the way they hurried across the staff parking lot, she was assured they had no idea who she was.

Emma preferred it that way. Neal had sabotaged her career, but where one door closed, another soon opened and Emma was going to make sure this one stayed open for as long as possible. Emma Swan was a thing of the past, just another name on a long list of riders who never made it to the top, but Emma Nolan (surname check) was a force to be reckoned with. She had worked too hard for anyone to take it away now.

A young man Emma recognized held the door for her as she finally stepped inside the building. He was tall, a little lanky but with a boyish smile that had every woman in his path blushing. Will Scarlet was a damn good rider, maybe a little hot headed, but he got results and the team earned a lot of money in constructors titles because of him and Killian Jones. As she passed him, Emma gave him a small smile and felt his eyes lingering on her a little longer than entirely necessary.

"Thanks," Emma said quickly as she stepped into the lobby on team headquarters and the rest of her sentence was taken from her by the equally imposing inner sections of the building.

"You're welcome, love," Will offered earnestly. Emma smiled wider but only at the familiarity of his term of endearment. She took a second to wonder if he had picked it up from Killian or the other way round. "It looks scary in here, but it's really not," he assured her.

"Easy for you to say," Emma breathed, pulling her sunglasses off and finally seeing the whole lobby without a brownish tint.

"I threw up on my first day," Will told her, removing his pitch-black sunglasses and resting them on the peak of his team-branded cap.

"How do you know it's my first day?" Emma cocked an eyebrow at him and folded her arms over her chest. If he was flirting she would have to give him credit for trying, but would definitely mark him down for his lingering gaze.

"Other than the obvious, you look lost." Will flashed her a toothy grin but was met with an annoyed huff. "Alright, lass, let's see," he began, hand on his chin where his thumb and forefinger toyed with what minimal growth he had there. "Your shirt is new, but you haven't had time to iron out the fold lines yet. You don't have your name badge yet, because they give you that during orientation, so you haven't seen Robin yet, and your hands are tainted with a little bit of black, which means you have worked on a bike recently, maybe a car, but not here, because we have this crazy 'gloves only' approach to maintenance that you don't know about yet, because-"

"It's my first day," Emma finished, impressed with Will's ability to simultaneously be a world-class rider and a detective.

"Exactly," Will said gleefully. "If you need to throw up, the bathrooms are just down that hall on the left," he added, pointing out the route he was describing. "Otherwise, I wish you a pleasant first day, miss?"

He held out his hand and Emma looked down at it with scepticism. He gave her a cheeky grin before retracting his hand and disguising his rejection by rearranging the peak of his cap, laughing a little to himself.

“Hey, can’t blame a guy for trying,” he said with a smirk. “I’m Will, by the way,” he added, genuine respect gracing his features.

Emma gave him a lopsided smile and was about to answer with a witty comeback when a man appeared at her side. He was a tiny bit taller than Will from what Emma could see but was dressed a lot smarter than either of them. His pristinely ironed team shirt was a bright white, his name, Robin, embroidered over the ‘HRC’ team logo on his left breast pocket. It was tucked into his equally perfect slacks which were fastened with a matte black belt and Emma noticed they were both wearing black steel toe capped boots, obviously for both their safety considering the nature of the work they did.

“Will Scarlet, leave this woman alone,” Robin said in an exasperated tone.

“It’s okay,” Emma said sweetly, turning to Robin and flashing him a smile. “Mr. Scarlet was helping me find my way, right, Will?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Will grinned.

“Yes, well, I don’t want to hear you were helping Miss Nolan here with anything other than directions, do I make myself clear?” Robin was hard faced as he stared Will down, making the man before him shrink a little. “You know the policy.”

“Yes, Mr. Locksley,” Will nodded in agreement and Emma gave him a sympathetic sideways glance.

“Now, If I’m not mistaken, you have somewhere to be.” It wasn’t a question, or order as such, but from his tone alone Emma knew that Robin Locksley was in charge, and meant business.

She knew his name. Everybody knew his name. Before becoming the team manager for the Honda Racing team, Robin Locksley had an impressive race background, including several championship titles throughout his career. He was older than Emma but probably not as old as her father, with a sun-weathered face that spoke to years on a hot tarmac race track, and made him look older than he really was. Just like her father, Locksley commanded respect, and Emma could tell by the way Will Scarlet scuttled off that Robin had it.

Emma couldn’t see by looking at him, but she knew Locksley had retired from racing after a particularly nasty accident that saw him high side his handlebars and land directly on his shoulder. Leathers were good at protecting most of the fleshy bits of the body, but under his own weight, at speed, Locksley had crushed the ball joint of his shoulder and torn a ton of ligaments to boot. An accident like that could only mean retirement, but not before months, if not years, of physical therapy and surgery after surgery. There were not many riders who would even attempt to race after that sort of life changing injury, and just like Emma, Locksley had pursued the closest thing to racing he could.

“Emma,” Locksley said with a warmer tone that he had used on Will. He sidestepped in front of her and extended his hand, his mouth ticking up at the corners into a thin lipped smile. “I’m Mr. Locksley, but you can call me Robin.”

“Nice to meet you, Robin,” Emma said with a smile, taking his hand and shaking it twice.

“Did Will bother you?” Robin pried, licking his lips and hardening his face back to boss mode.

“No,” Emma shook her head. “He really was just giving me directions.”

Robin raised his eyebrows in and made a sound of surprise in his throat. “Well, okay then, follow me.”

He set off, and moved quickly through the lobby of the headquarters, flashing a smile to the receptionist and anyone else who caught his eye. Emma hurried after him. He knew everyone or at least made it a point to say hello, and Emma knew she was already going to like him. Robin was in charge, there was no doubt about that, but it was also clear that everybody loved him.

“I’m afraid today is going to be very boring,” Robin called out behind him as he navigated the corridors of people. “A lot of admin, HR stuff, you know.”

“Of course,” Emma agreed, barely keeping up with him.

“I’ll take you on a tour, see the facilities we have here.” Robin stopped, turned and gave her a knowing smirk. “I know you’ve already made use of the track.”

Emma paled. “I hope that was okay, I didn’t mean-.”

“Of course!” Robin laughed, interrupting her. “As soon as you get a job with Honda, whether the boring bits are done or not, you are part of the family.” He smiled at her, beckoning her with a nudge of his head. “Come on, let’s get you to Ruby.”

Ruby Lucas was, perhaps, the most beautiful woman Emma had ever seen. She was tall, her mile-high legs as finely shaped as the blood-red lipstick covering her lips, and her dark coloured hair flashed with streaks of claret that made Emma wonder if Ruby was her given name or a more recent addition. There wasn’t a blemish on any part of her that Emma could see, and the way male colleagues were easily distracted by her mere presence gave her a cocky confidence that Emma recognised from every single person she had ever met in racing.

Emma wondered if Ruby Lucas had ever been any closer to a motorcycle race track than as the administration for the team. Certainly, she had the character for it. Motorcycle racing was one of the only sports in the world where men and women were considered equals on the race track, so Emma could think of no reason why Ruby wouldn’t have once been a racer at some point, but the slight limp in Ruby’s step spoke volumes as to why she now wasn’t. It was so subtle that most people would not have noticed, but Emma could tell by the timing of her steps as her heels clicked against the floor that Ruby had, at some point, fallen from the pinnacle of her own career, and just like Emma now, couldn’t venture too far from the sound of an engine.

“Miss Swan?” Ruby smiled, extending her arm and offering Emma her hand. Emma nodded and shook Ruby’s hand with a nervous smile. “Great,” Ruby grinned. “Welcome to the team.”

--

Killian walked into the garage with a smile for the first time since Liam had passed away. He had finally slept for longer than a few hours, miraculously, and it was all because of Emma. She had the ability to see inside of him, to reach the man who he was before and to help him break the surface of his sorrow, something he hadn’t thought possible. When Liam died, so had a part of Killian, and he never thought he would revive it, but he had. Emma had.

As he daydreamed his way across the smooth screed floor of the garage, the smell of gasoline and oil filled his nostrils, but it was tainted with a cleanliness that showed the importance of the team he worked for. A team mechanic wasn’t just some grease monkey with dirty hands, oil-stained clothes and a beer belly, but instead was a white gloved magic wielding maker of dreams. The bikes wouldn’t run without a mechanic, and the drivers worked closely with them, constantly tweaking and improving on an already very capable factory bike.

Everybody knew that a factory bike was there to be improved but the very best riders knew just how to squeeze every last drop of power out of the machine between their legs. It wasn’t about power; it was the combination of perfect timing and understanding how the bike worked that made riders win. Initiative played an important part too, and teams observed every race, ready to snap up the brightest minds at the end of the season. Killian and Will had made such a great team that they had declined every offer posed to them since signing with Honda, and as a result, they had an excellent working relationship with their mechanics.

Liam had been the head mechanic on their team, and the position had yet to be filled. Killian knew that the team had been holding off on hiring out of respect to him, and he appreciated it, but he knew they couldn’t halt it forever. Even if they hired internally, which they probably would, promoting one of the secondary mechanics, they would have to advertise it externally out of fairness, but Killian knew that there was no one as good as the team Liam had painstakingly compiled and trained himself.

Belle French was a second generation mechanic, having followed in the footsteps of her father to become a specialist in her own right. She had travelled the world with many teams before settling with the Jones-Scarlet duo she currently worked with. Her main charge was Will and it was her duty to make sure his bike was exactly how he needed it to be to perform to the best of his ability. She had answered only to Liam, as much as the cocky young rider she worked with liked to think otherwise, and both Killian and Will figured she would be first in line for the promotion since she had stepped up to be Killian’s mechanic too. In reality, Belle didn’t want the job, and neither did any of the other mechanics.

Killian knew the shoes Honda were expecting to fill were larger than anyone capable, but the season was about to pick back up again, so they needed to find someone quick.

“About time!” Will yelled across the garage as Killian approached. His voice echoed off the pristine white walls as he looked up from tinkering with one of his bikes and frowned. “You’re smiling,” Will said slowly with a narrowed stare. “Why are you smiling?”

“I’m happy,” Killian shrugged, the words leaving his mouth before he even realised it.

Will was taken aback and blinked in disbelief. “I’m sorry, mate, I didn’t quite hear you. Did you say you were happy?”

Killian stopped just short of his friend and inhaled, taking the longest breath and assessing his emotions. He wasn’t sure there was a word to describe how Emma made him feel, at least not one he was aware of, but what he was sure of was that he was happy and his grin couldn't hide it. “I did,” he affirmed with a nod.

Will blew out a breath not knowing how to respond to the shock of his team mate’s revelation. He was one of the only people he knew who had seen Killian at both his peak and at the lowest point in his life, so he would be lying if he said he wasn’t glad to see Killian happy. He didn’t need to know why his friend was happy; knowing that Killian was was enough for him. It would mean lots of things but most prominently it would mean that Killian would be ready to race, and ready to take on their biggest competition; Neal Cassidy.

“Well, I’m sorry to take the jam out of your doughnut,” Will began with a grunt of annoyance. “But Cassidy’s been shouting his mouth off to the media again.”

“What’s he saying now?” Killian sighed, his smile fading as he watched Will pull the white latex gloves off of his hands with a snapping sound before tossing them into a nearby trash can.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” Will shrugged. “He’s going to win this season, blah blah.” Will smirked when Killian met his gaze. “Apparently, this is going to be his year.”

“Oh,” Killian added, fake surprise lacing his words. “This year is the year, huh?”

“Yeah,” Will agreed but his smile quickly faded and he averted his gaze to the floor. Like a scolded child, he scuffed his immaculate boot across the pristine floor in front of him. “And,” he began, extending the syllable nervously.

“And?” Killian prompted.

“Nah, it doesn’t matter.” Will quickly decided with a shake of his head. “Did you see the new-”

“Wait,” Killian snapped, halting his friend with a wave of his hand. “Go back. What exactly did Cassidy say?”

Will’s cheeks were tinted with pink and he cleared his throat before he continued. “He was just showboating, playing to the journalists, you know what an utter bastard he is.”

Killian’s tongue darted out to moisten his lips and he reached up to rub at the patch of skin behind his ear a little more aggressively than normal. He knew Neal Cassidy was a cretin, the lowest of the low, a media hog who liked to shout his mouth off at every chance he could get. Killian knew Will was trying to protect him from something, and given the recent events in his life, and Cassidy’s proclivity for being an all around wanker, it wasn’t hard to determine Liam had been the subject of the media circus.

“Just let it go, mate,” Will said softly, interrupting Killian’s rage and easing it away with a comforting pat on the shoulder. “He’s not worth it anyway.”

Killian nodded in agreement, letting the tension out of him with a sigh. He wasn’t about to sink down to Cassidy’s level and bad mouth the man in the pits, putting both his career and the reputation of his team on the line. He had no need. Neal Cassidy did that quite well all by himself, and Killian would enjoy taking his ego down a peg or two by simply taking the title at the end of the season, but right now Killian wanted to just be. Easing back into the race season would undoubtedly be the most normal he had felt for a long time.

“So, what’re you working on?” Killian asked his teammate, half to break up the bubbling rage inside of him and half to distract himself from calling Cassidy and acting on it.

“Oh!” Will exclaimed excitedly. “So glad you asked.”

He spun around and made his way back towards the propped up motorbike with an excited skip in his step. Their bikes were the same, on the outside, and Will was eager to show off the skills of his mechanic, Belle. Will could prattle on for hours about the lass, and the way his face lit up as he told Killian about how she had tweaked this and that to shave seconds off his lap times, reminded him of the effect Emma had on him. She could talk about anything and Killian would listen with as much rapture as Will held for Belle, but there were of course, as Will had assured him multiple times, no feelings involved.

Yeah, alright.

Killian was lost to his little daydream about Emma and the way she looked when she had been asleep in his arms the night before. He could still feel the warmth of her skin on his palms, the way his long, lithe pianist fingers held her tight as she straddled his lap and took her pleasure, hair sticky with her feminine sweat he swore he could still smell every time he inhaled. And the way Emma tasted was insane. Her skin tasted like it smelled, a floral peony and vanilla musk that seemed to get even more concentrate the harder Killian worked her with his tongue. And boy had he worked her.

“Oi! Mate!” Will yelled through grease ingrained hands that cupped around his mouth. “Are you even listening?”

“Aye,” Killian offered slowly. “No,” he added and Will frowned at his antics. “Maybe?”

“Well, which is it?” Will prodded, folding his arms over his chest, one hand tucked under his armpit whilst the long and often broken fingers on his other gripped the bugle of his bicep.

Killian shifted his weight, rocking up onto the balls on his feet and one hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Will, I need to talk to you about something,” he began. “And I want you to-”

“Oh shit, are you changing teams?” Will babbled, panicked.

Killian shook his head quickly. “No, wait, why would you think that?”

Will lifted his shoulders in an over exaggerated shrug. “I mean, Liam was our team mechanic, it stands to reason you would want to be shot of this place, a lingering reminder and all.”

There was a stillness after Will’s words that Killian couldn’t find the energy to interrupt. Every time someone mentioned his brother, or unwittingly reminded him that they would never work together again, just served to dig up the ghost of guilt he thought he had squashed down.

“I’m not changing teams,” Killian assured Will, who audibly sighed in relief. “I think I’m seeing someone.”

Will frowned. “You think?”

“Well,-” Killian began, extending out the syllable but Will interrupted him quicker than he had begun talking.

“Like, a woman or a hallucination?” Will was certain of his words, markedly concerned for his friend. Killian had been through enough for him to have encountered a mental breakdown, holding in rage and self depreciation over Liam’s death for a while now, and Will had no mockery behind his words, just simply worry.

“Wh-what’s wrong with you?” Killian retorted with a deadpan stare of actual concern for his teammate. “Do you wear your helmet too tight?”

“I’m just trying to get all the correct information,” Will scoffed.

“And why would I talk to you if I were seeing things?” Killian teased, a wry smirk playing his lips.

“Uh, because we are mates?” Will looked hurt and it boosted Killian’s mood a little bit when he realized he hadn’t yet been discovered in his ruse.

“Are we though?” He ribbed Will again, hoping the younger man would realise. “Was that a clause in the contract?” Killian teased with a snigger, the snorted laugh finally giving him away.

“Fuck you,” Will laughed, giving Killian’s shoulder a shove. When his friend laughed, a genuine belly rumbling cackle Will had missed, he smiled. “So, why do you think you are seeing this person?”

“What do you mean?” Killian asked dumbly.

“Well, you are or you aren’t, mate,” Will shrugged. “What does she think?”

"She's a keeper," Killian said, his boyish smile reminiscent of a love-struck teen telling all about his first love.

"That's brilliant, mate, really happy for you.” Will nodded at Killian who just gave him a small nod of thanks. “So, does she have a name or…"

Killian was about to speak when the rest of the team suddenly funnelled into the spacious garage, voices hushed as they whispered about the purpose of such a sudden meeting. Killian frowned and shot his teammate a questioning glance that was just replied with a lazy shrug that made him already not care what the interruption was regarding. Belle found them both and beckoned them closer with a crooked finger, both Killian and Will leaning far too close to her than was entirely necessary.

“The new mechanic is here,” Belle whispered.

“Have you met him yet?” Will asked eagerly.

“Not yet,” Belle admitted, shooting a glance between the two men. “Have you?”

“No,” Will shook his head. “Neither has Killian.”

Killian grunted in disgust, his mood instantly soured by Belle’s words. “I’m not exactly thrilled to get to know him either.” Belle and Will were silent. “I’ll do my job, and do as I’m told, but that’s it. I couldn’t give a flying fuck about the new guy.”

“Bit harsh, mate,” Will offered tentatively in defence of someone he had never met. “The guy will just be doing his job.”

“Aye, and as long as that’s all he does, we won’t have a problem.” Killian ground his jaw. “We all know what happens when we mix business and pleasure,” he began angrily. “People die.”

Will and Bell shared a glance. Their hearts broke for their friend, who was clearly still dealing with the emotions of losing his brother whilst having to return to work and watch a new team member try and push his way into their lives. Killian needed more time. He clearly still blamed himself for Liam’s death and both knew he would probably do so for a long time, and neither was sure the whole experience hadn’t changed him forever. It hadn’t been Killian’s fault Liam was his teammate, it’s just the cards they were dealt in the racing world, but the whole situation had soured Killian’s outlook on getting so close to another person at work if he didn’t have to. What was the point anyway? He’d probably change teams or retire before they could form any real friendship anyway, so best leave it at the door and keep their relationship strictly professional.

"Alright, listen up!" Robin's voice bellowed off the walls, and Killian cast a sideways glance towards their esteem leader whilst ignoring the way Will patted him on the shoulder comfortingly.

Apparently, the team had picked a new head mechanic after carefully sifting through application after application from all over the world. Who wouldn't want to work for one of the biggest race teams in the world? The room still vibrated with hushed what-ifs when the sound of Robin clapping shook everyone from their chatter. All eyes were on him in an instant and to demand even more respect, Robin stood with his arms folded over his chest, eyes darting between the last few stragglers who couldn't hold their tongue. Finally, with a deep breath, he continued.

"Now, some of you may be aware that Honda has hired a new head mechanic." He paused, gauging the room. "This means that some of you will be working with a new face."

Killian knew Robin's words were directed at him. Will had Belle, and before his death, he had Liam. They were the perfect team and Killian had no interest in forming any sort of bond with Liam’s replacement. The mechanic would be a work colleague, and that was it. No invites to barbecues, no socializing outside of the work, and most definitely no track day races. That was if this new mechanic even knew how to ride a bike. The sport had seen a surge in mechanics who knew everything there was to know about a superbike, except how to ride one, except on paper, and Killian didn’t trust these people one bit. How were they supposed to feel what the bike was trying to tell them?

A scoff disguised in a cough left his mouth and as Robin carried on with his introduction, Killian slipped off to the side behind Will and busied himself looking over the bike they had been previously looking at. It wasn’t nearly distracting enough though, his ears perking up as Robin spoke behind him, his fingers idly tracing over the handlebar grip throttle in an attempt to seem busy.

“I know this is not what some of you want,” Robin boomed across the crowd. Again, directed at Killian. “But this has to happen for the team if we are to have any chance of winning the Championship rider and team trophies this year.”

Killian cast a glance over his shoulder, locking eyes with Robin for a second to let him know he was listening but to also tell him not to expect too much from him. He would ride, as he always did, and he would most likely beat Cassidy to the Championship, again, but he was steadfast in the idea that he could do all of these things and maintain the minimum interactions required in line with the terms of his contract.

“So, without further ado, may I introduce to you your new Head of Mechanics and Engineering, Emma Nolan.”

The sound of applause filled the garage and Killian’s head snapped up just in time to see Emma - his Emma - walking through the white door to stand at Robin’s side. He couldn’t breathe. All of the air left his lungs and he forgot how to inhale again, his face turning the whitest shade as it drained of all blood, and he dropped the wrench he had been holding. It clattered to the floor at his feet but the sound was lost in the monotony of bravos. He was glad the clapping was so loud because it drowned out the sound of his heart shattering into a million pieces. Stood in front of the whole team, in front of him, was the woman who had promised him she would chase away his demons, hold him at night whilst he slept, and someone he had dreamed of starting a family with, but she wasn’t just his Emma anymore; She was Emma Nolan, Head of Mechanics and Engineering at Team Honda.

Scanning the crowd Emma caught Killian’s eye. He was way back in the rabble of people who had congregated in the garage space to meet her, but his face was completely ashen and so void of colour his lips were nearly blue. Her smile faded away as soon as she caught sight of him, the slight shake of his head and quiver in his bottom lip betrayed his emotions as he turned and walked out of the garage through a rear exit. Emma gulped, her heart sinking like a stone and the pit of her stomach exponentially deepening into a void that seemingly had no end. She felt sick but forced a smile back onto her face so that she could keep up the facade of happiness in front of the team.

In reality, she had been selfish enough to keep her new job role from Killian once she had got to know him and seen how fragile he actually was. She had never suffered a loss as he had before. Sure, her mother had passed away but it was expected, and even her uncle’s death hadn’t affected her as much as she thought it would. She had seen how losing someone so horrifically had broken her father, and her eyelids stung with tears because, without any malicious intention, she had given Killian Jones hope with one hand only to snatch it from his grasp with the other.

“Welcome aboard,” Robin said gleefully, grabbing Emma’s hand to shake and ripping her from her tumultuous musings. “You’re going to be perfect for this team, I can tell everyone loves you already,” he added with a grin before slipping his hand from her and patting her on the shoulder.

Emma simply nodded with a forced smile. “Not everyone,” she muttered to herself.

[offbrandmercyplates]

Birthday fic from Yours the Author!

Ms. Emmibee: is me birthday day.

Me: *Tumbling down a flight of stairs, breaking a comical amount of theater vases that are made to be broken* HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

So yes! It’s Ms. Emmibee’s birthday, so we all know what that means! Presents and (cookie) cake! It’s not possible to send real cookie cake through the internet, though, but a present is a present!

I had actually planned this one out vaguely after the last update. It made sense that we wouldn’t get a lot of time in Temmie Village, since the plot must go on, but I figured most people would appreciate some cute Temmie and Emmibee action. I wrote this all out today. I don’t know if I quite captured the magic of Tem Village, but I like to think there’s a little bit of it here. I’ll let you decide for yourself. See you at the bottom!

What Could it Mean?

“Emmi, I kindly ask—and by ‘kindly’, I mean ‘in a way that won’t cause a scene’—that you stop vibrating so intensely.”

“But it’s Temmie Village, Dr. Gaster! I can’t not be excited!”

“The Temmies are excitable enough without you encouraging them. I’d rather not deal with any more hyperactivity than necessary.”

“Hyperactive or actively hyper?”

“…What?”

“What?”

“…Strange woman.”

“I know. But isn’t that why you like me?” “No more questions. Let’s just—”

“HOI!!!!” Dr. Gaster sighed for ten whole seconds as Emmibee gasped at her first in-person look at a Temmie. She bounced on the toes of her rubber rain boots as the little monster skipped over to them.

She was just as cute as she was in the game, but even smaller; probably no bigger than a munchkin cat. Her quadrupedal body was covered in short, soft white fur, two pairs of ears, a little mane of black hair, and a deep sky-blue shirt over the top half of her body.

Smiling giddily, Emmi pointed at her while grinning at the skeleton companion. “Undoubtedly, a Temmie.”

“Undoubtedly,” Dr. Gaster agreed. “Can we please—”

“HOI!!!” Another Temmie popped up.

“Behold, a Temmie,” Emmi bowed to the newcomer.

“I am aware. Can we—”

Another Temmie trotted over. “Could it be a Temmie?” Emmi wondered.

“Actually, I’m Bob. Nice to meet you,” Bob said. Emmi let out a high-pitched noise.

Dr. Gaster sighed again. “I’m going to the Tem Shop. Can I trust you won’t leave the village?” Emmi was currently chanting “hoi” with the growing group of Temmies. “…I suppose I can.” He made his way to the shop.

One of the Temmies suddenly wiggled her tail the way a cat does before it pounces and leapt up into Emmi’s arms. Emmi extended her arms to catch the Temmie, but a thought suddenly occurred to her: aren’t humans allergic to Temmies? The Temmie landed in her arms, and she instinctively adjusted herself for maximum comfort for the carrier and the carry-ee. Oh wait; I’m a monster now, she remembered. Does that still count? The Temmie she was holding vibrated gently in her arms, and the other Temmies and Bob crowded around her feet, looking a few seconds away from swarming her in a pile of cute. Guess it does.

As much as she would have loved to be swarmed in a pile of cute, Emmi didn’t know when she’d get a chance to explore Temmie Village like this again. Carefully wading through the tiny monsters, she began to look around the small cavern.

True to the game, the walls, ceiling, and floor were made of dark blue stone, but unlike the game, the air was cool and damp and seemed to somehow cast a shiny quality to the stone, if she looked at just the right angle and level of light. There wasn’t any quirky music playing in the background, but the air thrummed—no, vibrated—with an energy that could only be explained by the mysterious power of Temmie.

She took some time to say HOI to each Temmie she passed, admired the rich history of Tem and the statue of Tem, returned the compliments of an adamant Temmie (awawawa! bee lady… such a… cute!!!) and exchanged parenting tips with the parent of a special hardboiled egg (tem and bee… pROUD pARENTS!!!). Emmi considered saying hello to the owner of the Tem Shop, but one peek into the room revealed an irate Dr. Gaster trying to explain why he wouldn’t accept Tem flakes in exchange for all of the items he was selling. It would probably be best to leave him be.

That was when she spotted it: the dancing mushroom, swaying their arms to an invisible tune. Hugging the Temmie she was still holding tighter to her chest, she strode up to the mushroom, swaying her hips and bopping her head to the beat. She giggled and sang with them, “Mushroom dance, mushroom dance… what could it mean?”

The mushroom raised their cap to peer up at her, eyes narrow. “Failure is terrifying,” they said, “but not nearly as terrifying as success.”

The world suddenly stopped; not like a record scratch. It was more like if the planet had stopped spinning, but everyone wasn’t flung off into space. All of the cold and none of the water in the room seemed to cling to Emmi, getting under her raincoat, under her skin, coating her SOUL in an icy sheet. Her breath caught in her throat, her vision tunneled, and there was an intense feeling of being watched…

“Emmi?” The mushroom lowered their cap and went back to swaying. The Temmie in her arms hopped down, her face following a moment after. Emmi looked up to see Dr. Gaster putting something into the pocket of his lab coat and gesturing for her to follow him. “Time to go.”

Emmi’s legs felt a bit weird, like they had almost but not quite fallen asleep, and they were trying to remember how to work. The cold feeling lingered, though not as strongly as it had before Dr. Gaster brought her back to reality. She stumbled backwards, trying not to fall over as she stared at the mushroom again. They weren’t looking at her, preoccupied with their dance. The sudden shift in the mood had left her disoriented and a bit overwhelmed. What that mushroom said… it was way too on the nose for her liking. Had it not been for Dr. Gaster, she would have stood there for the rest of time as she tried to make sense of how that mushroom knew…

She would be grateful to the doctor for saving her from herself, even if he never found out.

“Coming…” she replied, taking one last look at the mushroom before steadily following Dr. Gaster out of Temmie Village.

***

It’s probably a good thing Emmibee didn’t go to the Temmie in the wall. She definitely didn’t need a double dose of the feeling of being watched. Poor Emmi. How did that mushroom know?

“Hyperactive or actively hyper” was a play on the joke “working hard or hardly working”. I was originally going to put a fourth wall breaking joke in that part of the story, but it occurred to me that Dr. Gaster wouldn’t let that go so easily.

Emmi identifying the Temmies (hey, that rhymed!) is a reference to the snow poffs of Snowdin. You all probably already know this, but interacting with every snow poff will tell you that, indeed, you are interacting with a snow poff.

Temmies have a rich history. What is that history? It’s rich. That’s all you need to know, and all you’ll ever find out, probably.

Emmi is going to be a parent sometime soon (skelebaby boys!), so it’d be a good idea to get parenting tips from an experienced parent, even if that parent’s child is a hardboiled egg. Every bit helps!

The scene with the mushroom is what really inspired me to write this. Visually, the shading in that penultimate panel was stunning. I wanted to translate what it looked like Emmibee was feeling into words. What did she see? What did she feel, physically and emotionally? These are questions I have to know the answers to as an author, and if they’re not written already, I’ll write down my own interpretations.

Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO EMMIBEE! One year older, bolder, and wiser! Despite everything, I hope this is a good one for you. I mean it. I’ll be posting this to FFN and AO3, if you’re okay with that. Looking forward to more of your content, be it a full comic page or a textpost gushing about a cute kitten gif. Until then! ~~~ AAAAAAAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH????? I really really loved doing this scene and you did it justice absolutely PERFECTLY. Emmi’s excitement about experiencing the Underground knows no bounds!! (Also, her dancing along with the mushroom is EXACTLY what I was imagining)

I’m really happy you enjoyed the page! It feels kind of filler-y to me, but it really is important to both the narrative and tone of the story. More pages will be coming soon I promise!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE BIRTHDAY WISHES

Feel free to post this on your FF and AO3 accounts! 

THANK YOU AGAIN AAAAAAAAAAAA

[alirhi]

chapter 10

Title: Winter's Frost Chapter: 10/? Fandom: MCU Rating: R to be on the safe side Pairing: Loki/Bucky Summary: Loki never told anyone the real reason he became so obsessed with Midgard. Much better to let them think he wanted to hurt his brother than draw their attention to the one thing in the universe that makes the God of Mischief truly vulnerable. WARNINGS: not much, really. References to torture, but nothing explicit Notes: as usual, this fic relies heavily on you having seen the Marvel movies (or at least CA:TFA, CA:CW, Thor, and The Avengers, so far) but like... why would you be reading MCU fanfic if you hadn't seen the MCU? XD

He never would have broken; he just hoped Thanos and his idiot henchmen didn't realize that. The torture he endured probably would have broken Thor in about half the time they'd been at it, but Loki was far stronger than anyone had ever given him credit for. If not for Eira, alone on an alien planet with a complete stranger, Loki probably would have held out indefinitely, just to piss them off. As usual, though, he didn't have time to mess with them or test his own endurance. He had to get to Midgard, collect his daughter and her father regardless of Bucky's feelings on the subject, and disappear.

So he pretended to break. He held out for a while for show, and then folded like a poorly constructed house of cards. Thanos – not a very trusting lad, that one – insisted on worming into Loki's mind with that damned scepter, and he had to let him, to convince him that the God of Mischief was truly under his thumb.

It was the most unpleasant sensation, having the energy of that thing wiggling through his brain. He did his best to keep it at bay, only letting the stone in the scepter into the very edge of his mind, but it still felt like a swarm of beetles crawling around under his skull. It, and the energy required to keep it from taking over or to keep himself from shaking it off entirely, left him exhausted and disoriented.

You will have your moment of glory, Thanos had told him with a smirk as he handed Loki the scepter. Just serve your purpose and bring me what's mine.

"I am Loki of Asgard," he announced to the humans between him and that damned cube, "and I am burdened with glorious purpose." They didn't catch the bitter sarcasm in his tone, but that was alright. He hadn't expected them to.

"Loki?" Why did this old man look so familiar? "Brother of Thor?"

Loki just barely stopped himself from gagging, and scoffed instead. Of course. This was one of Thor's little human friends. Well, at least he could have a bit of fun while he was here; he touched the tip of the scepter to Selveig's chest and watched the sickly blue light seep into his irises. See how Thor felt when he learned that Loki had made one of his precious human friends his little dancing puppet! It also helped that Selveig was some sort of scientist; he had some working knowledge of the Tesseract, and that would likely come in handy.

He really didn't give a damn about the Tesseract or Thanos' mad mission; still, it was best to keep up appearances until he could find a way to wiggle free of him once and for all. As long as he could feel the scepter's energy slithering around his brain, he knew there was a chance that Thanos, or his creepy underling The Other, could track what he was doing. The only thing worse than playing the obedient servant would be leading them straight back to Bucky and Eira. His best bet was a 'poorly executed' plan to distract Thor and his little band of human misfits.

Pity he had to fight them. He rather liked Banner and Stark. There was one silver lining to all this insanity, though: The redhead. That bloody slag, Natasha. The moment he looked into Barton's mind and saw her, that woman who'd dared put her hands on his Sergeant, he couldn't wait to make her suffer.

Damn. Jealousy truly was the ugliest, most uncomfortable emotion.

It caught him off guard when they sent her in first. As he gleefully informed her, he'd expected some sort of torture first, and then the woman would be sent in as a 'friend', a balm, and he'd be expected to fold and cooperate. None of them knew the depth of his hatred for this woman, so he was sure they didn't expect him to easily resist her 'charms.'

He taunted her for a bit, reveling in the increasing look of horror in her eyes, the way they filled with tears she fought valiantly not to shed, the way she trembled...

"You're a monster!" she whispered as she turned her back to him, still visibly shaking.

Loki chuckled, the insidious little devil in his heart placated by Natasha's apparent distress. "Oh, no," he gloated, at this point just making shit up as he went along. "You brought the monster." Honestly, what did that even mean?

Suddenly steady and clear-eyed, she turned and looked him right in the eye. "So, Banner. That's your play."

"What?" Oh, right. Barton had told him she had a knack for wrangling the beast within Banner; likely, she'd been the one sent to recruit him. Well, that worked out, didn't it?

He pretended to be shocked by her deductive skills until she was out of sight, and then rolled his eyes. Let them give him credit when Banner lost control of the beast in the fray about to come; it hadn't actually been his plan, but he knew it would certainly happen. These misfits were nothing if not predictable.

Maybe he'd luck out and find her mangled corpse somewhere at the end of all this. Surely Bucky wouldn't care, right? They'd only had a chance encounter... Perhaps Loki just wouldn't tell him. Really, was there any reason for him to know this random woman he'd slept with while brainwashed was dead? No, darling, I have no idea what happened to Agent Romanov! None at all. She's a spy, isn't she? Perhaps she disappeared on her own...

Oh, bugger. He was going to have to make sure she survived this, wasn't he? Even as he mocked Thor and tricked him into the glass cage, he was thinking about that bloody redhead. If the Sergeant remembered her, likely Bucky would, as well. Loki had never lied to him before; he certainly wasn't about to start now. Ugh. Guilt was an even worse feeling than jealousy!

Brother safely sequestered from the fight for the time being, Loki set about retrieving the scepter and the Tesseract, and making sure the vessel the fragile humans were on remained intact long enough for Stark and Rogers to get it at least partially functioning again. It was exhausting, trying to keep up the appearance of attempting to kill these people while simultaneously trying to keep them safe.

He could feel the scepter's hold on his mind weakening, thank Frigga, but he didn't dare even think of going to Siberia yet. Until he was free of it completely, without pushing it away himself and alerting Thanos, he didn't dare go anywhere near Bucky. At least he had command of the Chitauri, once he could bring them to Midgard. They would make a delightful distraction for all parties involved, and if he timed things just right, he could even send a few of them to SHIELD headquarters to turn HYDRA into nothing but a lake of blood and bone fragments.

Oh, Stark had made it home. Secretly pleased to see that he was well, Loki smirked – trying desperately to hide his giddy grin – and met him inside. "Please tell me you're going to appeal to my 'humanity,'" he teased, eager for banter with a mind as sharp as his own for the first time since... Well, since before Bucky had been captured and reported killed in action.

"Uh, actually I'm planning to threaten you."

"You should've left your armor on for that." This man was adorable. Once all was said and done and they were safe, he wondered if it would be strange to invite Stark over for dinner.

"Yeah." Stark's tone was endearingly dismissive. "It's seen a bit of mileage, and you've got the glowstick of destiny."

Trying not to laugh, Loki glanced down at the scepter. I am never calling it anything else again.

"Would you like a drink?"

He couldn't contain his laughter completely; he really liked Stark. Disguising it as mocking and arrogance, he hastily told him, "Stalling me won't change anything."

"No no no, threatening!" Stark gestured to the impressively stocked bar. "No drink, you sure? I'm having one."

One more second, and he was going to break and crack up. Or hug the man. Either way, it wouldn't look good. Hoping to buy a moment to collect himself, he spun on his heel and moved over to the glass wall overlooking the city.

"The Chitauri are coming. Nothing will change that." I wish you, Banner, and Thor would just get as far away as possible before they arrive. He turned back to face the other man, hoping the tremor he could hear in his own voice wasn't audible from across the room. "What have I to fear?"

"The Avengers." Loki must have looked as confused as he felt; Stark rolled his eyes and clarified, "That's what we call ourselves; sorta like a team. Earth's mightiest heroes type thing."

"Yes." Loki smirked. "I've me them."

Picking up the mocking in his tone, Stark chuckled. "Yeah, takes us a while to gain any traction, I'll give you that one. But... Let's do a headcount, here. Your brother, the demi-God-"

Adoptive brother, he wanted to snap as he scoffed and turned away, and barely that!

"A super soldier, a living legend who kinda lives up to the legend... A man with breathtaking anger management issues..."

Loki couldn't help grinning at that description. He liked Banner quite a bit, and the mindless green beast was an endless source of entertainment.

"A couple of master assassins," Stark continued, pointing at the pacing Trickster, "and you, big fella, you've managed to piss off every single one of them."

"That was the plan."

"Not a great plan."

That's because you don't know what the plan was for. He grinned, but his mirth was short-lived as Stark calmly made his way around the bar and approached him.

"When they come, and they will, they'll come for you."

He'd thought of that, but still hadn't thought his way out of it quite yet. "I have an army," was all he could think to say.

"We have a Hulk."

"Oh, I thought the beast had wandered off." He'd likely return, of course, but hopefully in time only to slow the Chitauri, not to capture Loki.

He didn't want to, but as the conversation went on he realized he didn't have much of a choice. Hoping it wouldn't do any lasting damage to that beautiful brain of his, he touched the scepter to Stark's chest... and nothing happened. Confused, he tried again. Still nothing, and now Stark's witty retorts were just grating on him. Spotting the cuffs he hadn't been wearing before and assuming they were some sort of tech, he decided to just vent his frustrations the old fashioned way. With a growl, he lifted Stark by the throat and threw him out a window.

Sure enough, something shot out the hole in the glass after him, and within seconds, Stark appeared in a new suit. Good. At least Loki had managed to vent a little anger without actually harming one of the few humans he respected.

The knock to the head he received when he was blasted back a few seconds later was enough to finally dislodge the energy of the scepter fully. He'd have heaved a sigh of relief if the Tesseract hadn't chosen that exact moment to finally tear open the space above the tower and let the Chitauri through. Unleashing Hell on an unsuspecting city miles from even the closest of his actual targets had never exactly been his favorite plan, but it seemed that was the only one that was actually going to play out.

As usual, even his hated backup plan didn't end the way he'd hoped. By the end of the afternoon, two things were quite clear to Loki: One, he was going to have to take a breather and then find a way to disappear once he was healed.

And two, he didn't much like Banner anymore.

_____________________________________________________

Next Masterlist

[stillebesat]

In These Tangled Webs (10/11)

Sanders Sides: Patton, Logan, Roman, Virgil Blurb: It should be easy admitting to your roommates that you’re not entirely human. Only in Logan’s case it’s not. Not when he discovers that Patton is afraid of Spiders. Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort Overall Warnings: Spiders, Arachnophobia, Death Talk, Minor Character Deaths, Slightly Detailed Descriptions of Deaths, Murders, Injuries, Swords, Imprisonment, Biting, Fangs, Venom, Extra Body Parts, Blood, Manipulation, Negative Self Talk

To Catch Up: Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6  Chapter 7  Chapter 8  Chapter 9  

“HUNT!” Roman half screeched before he slapped his hand over his mouth, the first to react. 

“I picked him out specially for you, my spiderling.”

Patton swallowed as he fought to keep his hands relaxed in Logan’s, desperately hoping that he couldn’t hear how his heart rate had sped up.

Hunting.

Hunting.

Hunting.

Despite already knowing about Lo’s connection to the...the Rouge Widow as Virgil had named her…hearing him confirm it...in that particular way was--was---

YOU WERE PREY. You could have DIED.

Keep you safe. 

Prey. 

“Hush. Hush. You won’t need your momma for much longer, dear one.” 

He had been prey, only surviving because Lo had decided to let him go, had decided to help him instead of killing him like his--his mother wanted him to. 

Virgil barely appeared to be breathing as he stood stock still, staring at Lo. “The Rouge Widow---is your mom?” He asked, voice deliberately quiet. 

The blood stained woman stalked through swings, searching for him. “You can’t hide from me forever child.”

Logan hunched his shoulders, his fangs vanishing from view as he nodded. “Yes.” 

“But---” Virgil ran both his hands through his hair. “That doesn’t--HOW?!” He shook his head moving to pace in a circle around them, tugging at the strings of his hoodie. “There were no signs at all--there weren’t even rumors that she had a kid! And you’re telling me---She’s been killing people for years, decades! And not once, NOT ONCE did anyone let slip she had a kid in tow. How--”

“She kept me hidden...separate from her--” Logan dropped his voice. “--killing sprees. And if anyone found me--They died. She’s very selective on who she trusts and when it came to me...barely a handful of people know of our connection and still live.” 

Patton swallowed. Did that handful of people now include the three of them? How hard must it have been on Logan? To never have anyone stick around. To only have his mother for company. No friends---how---Patton bit his lip. ”That sounds so lonely, Lo.” No wonder he’d been so withdrawn when they’d first met. If everyone who came in contact with him died...why would he try to get to know anyone?  

Logan shrugged, looking away. “I didn’t know better.” 

“Geez and I thought my childhood was bad.” Roman said, running a hand through his rain soaked hair. “But to grow up with---with--” 

“The worst murderous Human Black Widow on record to ever walk the planet?” Virgil supplied, fiddling with his sleeves as he too studied their friend.

“That’s one way to refer to her.” Logan mumbled, fidgeting under their combined stares. 

Roman clicked his tongue. “Yah, that---” He spread his arms wide. “That sucks, big time, Spock. How in the world are you not more messed up having her as a Mom?”  

“More...messed up?” Lo repeated, raising his eyebrows, rubbing his hand against his chest. “She’s probably killed more people than half the state of Wyoming and you wonder why I’m not more messed up?” 

“Well now I’m wondering how you’ve passed as more normal.” Virgil muttered as Roman blanched.

“Right? I mean…She was teaching you to--to hunt humans, Lomageddon! That’s not a normal Mommy thing to do-- Wait!” Ro pointed between the two of them. "Pat's still alive! Did you ever pass that particular gruesome lesson with someone else or--”

I’ll feast on the newcomers. No worries, Logan. Momma will eat too.” She said, two of her hands guiding the boy’s fangs to Patton’s exposed neck as faint voices and stomping sounded overhead. “Hurry now.” She encouraged, withdrawing. “It’s fast food today.”

Pwotect you.

A gentle tug and Logan stepped back, a wad of webbing held in his hands. “See. Safe. Hod still.” His little fingers easily tore away the remaining webs from Patton, freeing him in seconds. “No eat. No die. All safe. K?” 

Patton drew in a steadying breath and took a deliberate step closer, squeezing Lo’s hands as he did so. 

Trust Me.

I’m NOT scared. Not of you. 

“What does it matter?" Patton asked, half turning to the others. “He saved my life. Lo isn’t going to hurt us.” 

With how skittish Logan had been about telling them what he was, he hardly was acting like the suave charismatic Widow they’d been taught to look out for.

“But that doesn’t answer the question.” Virgil said gesturing to Logan as he continued circling them. “Sure a three year old may not kill the first time he’s given the chance, but you grew up with her, L. You were there. Indoctrinated in her ways! How many---how---are you---” He made a face. 

Logan slowly raised his eyes to meet Virge’s. “A Killer? Or was Murderer the word you were looking for?” 

A chill went down Patton’s spine as Roman took two steps back, eyes wide. 

Logan? A killer? No. NO WAY. NO. 

Virgil stopped, setting his jaw as he looked Logan squarely in the eyes. “Yes. How far did your apple fall from her tree?” 

Little Logan frowned up at the ring as it flashed light blue. “Not s’posed to glow no--” He paled, pitch black eyes going wide. “RUN!” He yelled, frantically shoving Patton outside and slamming the door in his face. “RUN! HOOMAN RUN! “RUAAAAAAAHH---” The scream cut off abruptly, followed by a sickening thud against the door. 

Keep you safe. 

No. Patton pressed his lips together, slightly shaking his head. Logan was good. He was nothing like his mom. He had to believe that otherwise wouldn’t the three of them be dead by now? They’d been living together for the past six months and Widows--

Widows kill within four. 

The pendant didn’t glow around Lo unless he was holding it. He wasn’t a threat. 

Right? 

Logan exhaled, his eyes growing dark behind his glasses as he pulled his hand free, crossing it over his chest. “You might as well be talking apples and oranges. She tried to make me just like her. But we’re…” He rubbed his chest, looking away. “Different.” 

Patton tilted his head, watching Logan’s hand over where the Widow mark hid. 

She pressed him close to the upside down red triangle on her chest. There, there.” She soothed. 

Red. Logan’s Mom’s mark had been plain red. But Logan’s was--

Black and Red. 

Patton narrowed his eyes, before quickly smoothing his expression before Lo could notice. That coloration wasn’t normal either. Widows only had red hourglasses like their spider counterparts. Was that the ‘difference’ Logan spoke of? Why was his mark--

“Tried?” Roman repeated.

Lo nodded, looking up. “I’m not a killer, Virgil.” He shifted his gaze to meet Roman’s worried eyes. “Roman.” He half turned to Patton. “Patton. Believe me, I’ve never taken a life--killed” He exhaled, shoulders slumping as stared at his feet. “But I did drink plenty of human blood and tissue. Just not---not recently...years really--since I uh--” He gave a half shrug. “Left.” 

“Left?” Patton whispered. But Logan was so young! He was Baby compared to the rest of them and he had said he hadn’t drunk---drunk... blood in years. Which if he only had it while he’d been with his Mom...when had he left her? Did it have something to do with their marks? Or just his refusal to--to kill? 

“So you’re not secretly sneaking out to get a fix?” Roman asked. “Stealing from blood banks? Preying on students studying late at night at the Library?

Logan’s mouth twitched, his fingers going white on his jacket. “No.” 

Virgil threw his hands up in the air, pacing again. “You don’t--You’re---L. I thought--we’ve all been taught that widows have to eat human flesh or blood to live and you’re telling me--”

“I no mamma. Bad tase you. ALL bad. BLEH.”

Logan was no monster. He wasn’t Mom. “He doesn’t because...well because humans don’t taste good to you...right, Lo?” Patton asked, glancing to him uncertainly.

A lot of things could have changed since first grade.  

Logan wrinkled his nose, making the exact same face he had made as a child. “Crofters No! It’s horrible. Like being forced to drink bitter moldy yogurt mixed with motor oil.” 

“OH EW!” Roman shuddered, waving his hands in front of his face as if to ward off a Dragon Witch. “Ew. Ew. EW! SPECS! I like yogurt. Don’t go putting that image in my head!” 

“I think you’re too late to save your tender taste buds, Princey.” Virgil remarked, scuffing the wet pavement with his shoe, attention still on Lo. “Strawberry yogurt will never taste the same.” 

“Stoooop!” Roman covered his ears, ducking his head. “I caaaaan’t heeeeear yooouuuu! Lalalala.”

A soft laugh left Logan’s lips, sounding like music to Patton’s ears as he lowered his hands, spreading them apologetically. “Sorry.” 

Patton relaxed at that laugh. Almost he could pretend that it was a normal conversation between them all. Almost.

Virgil huffed, rolling his eyes, even though a small smile played on his lips as well. “So we won’t be finding bags of blood anywhere? No severed heads or pickled entrails?” 

Lo smirked, amber eyes glimmering in the faint light. “I thought the Master of Halloween would already have all that in his room?” 

Roman snorted, pulling his hands away from his ears. “He got you there, Dr. Gloom. Out of all of us here...you are the one most into that sort of stuff, we’ve seen Sherlock’s room before remember? He’s hardly got anything morbid in there.” 

“You do know that Sherlock had--” 

“Ah ba da da! NO!” Roman quickly covered Virgil’s mouth. “I’m well aware how the character Sherlock lived, don’t ruin my moment!” 

“Either way.” Logan shifted on his feet, brushing the hourglass on his chest. “Now that you--know...I--I understand if you don’t want me to---to you know---” He gestured to the van, taking a step back away from it. “Come back to the apartment--” 

“Well, of course we don’t want you to come back ther--OW!” Roman jerked his hand away from Virgil’s mouth. “HEY!”

Logan recoiled, taking another step back, looking like a puppy that had just been kicked.

Virge spat onto the road. “That’s what you get for sticking your hand and mouth where they don’t belong, Princey” 

“I was just!” 

Patton grabbed Logan’s hand before he could take off, pulling him back to the van. He knew what Ro had been trying to say, but he really could have said it just a tiny bit better. “The place is still spider-proofed, Lo.” He said gently.

Logan couldn’t return home until they figured out how to unproof Patton’s spider proofing so that he would be safe. 

“Exactly.” Virgil said, pulling out his keys. “Until we get it---liveable again for you, L, there’s no way we’re letting you back in.” 

Logan stared at them, mouth dropping open. “You still want...to live with me?” He asked, slowly.

Roman rubbed the back of his hand, glaring at Virgil. “We did say we’re not going anywhere did we not?” 

“And you said you don’t drink blood, and aren’t a murderer soo---I don’t see why you can’t stay.” Virgil shrugged. “Besides, who’s going to help me with my Chemistry if you go?”

Roman snorted. “You mean badger with endless questions about being Spliced?” 

Virge stuck his tongue out. “Yes, that too. Whatever. Still doesn’t change that we still want you with us.”

“It’s just…” Logan looked between the three of them, squeezing Patton’s hand. “Hard to believe that you’re all taking this so well.”

So well? Logan had run away from them upon his first accidental revealing because they’d taken it ‘so well’. Patton could only hope that they--he could make it up to him. Revealing yourself as Spliced had to be a hard enough thing to do in the first place, and Lo had been forced to do so before he was ready. 

Thanks to me. 

Roman huffed, eyes going soft. “We’re not going to form a Gastonian Mob and come for your head, Lo. Despite how it looked with the swords…” He spread his hands. “I am on your side. We’re all on your side.” 

“Through thick and thin, webs and fangs, stupid finals and late night celebration parties.” Virgil said with a two fingered salute. Logan licked his lips, eyes holding a careful flickering hope. “But I’m...I’m Spliced. A Widow, and you’re all okay with that? Seriously? Knowing that--that my Mom--” 

“Isn’t you, Lo.” Patton interrupted firmly. The pendant proved that. 

Keep you safe. Pwomise. 

“You aren’t your family, so I’m told.” Roman agreed, clapping Lo on the shoulder with a grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes. 

“And I mean...if you don’t mind us--”

“You mean you.” Roman interjected.

“Mind all of us.” Virgil shot him a look. “We can be your family.” He said, sharing a smile with Patton as he joined their little circle in the rain. 

Patton nodded with his own smile. There was no question there. “We promise. We’re not going anywhere.” Lo would be able to rely on them, trust them, be himself around them.

Logan drew in a slow breath, studying them each in turn before he gave a jerk of a nod, briefly touching Roman’s hand before moving to Virgil’s. “I would like that…a lot actually.” 

“Oh good!” Ro said, giving a huge exaggerated sigh of relief as he pulled away. “Now can we get in the van and to that hotel? I would like to get dry at some point.” He jerked his head to the car. “Pleeease, my hair is already looking as sad and dingy as Doom and Gloom over there.” 

“Oh please.” Virgil rolled his eyes. “With how much gel you put on your head, I doubt a geyser could flatten it...but I am with Sir Sparkles here. Getting dry sounds good to me too.” 

“Same.” Patton agreed fervently, taking initiative and ducking into the backseat of the van. The sooner he got out of these clothes and tossed them in the trash, the better. 

Logan huffed a laugh and nodded, hesitating only half a second before he too followed Patton into the back. “I’m not the one with the keys Virge. That’s all on you.” He said, pulling the door shut with a quick glance to Patton for reassurance as he settled in next to him

“Yah yah...I’m on it! Hold onto your fangs.” Virgil called darting around to the driver’s side.  

Roman half turned in his seat, making a show of feeling his teeth with his tongue. “Don’t have fangs to hold onto, Emo Nightmare, but I will cover your favorite hoodie in purple glitter if you don’t start this rust bucket soon.”

“Don’t you dare! I worked hard on that!” “Then get-a-drivin!” 

Lo shook a head, a small smile on his face as he relaxed back against the seat. “It’s like nothing’s changed.” He mumbled to Patton as the van chugged into life. 

Keep you safe. 

Patton leaned into him, resting his head on Logan’s shoulder. “Because nothing really has, Lo.” He said softly, winding their fingers together as Virgil pulled out of the lot. “You’re still you, and that’s all that matters.”

To Be Continued Epilogue

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