#they toasted my sandwich despite the fact I didn’t ask them to nor do I like my sandwiches toasted

[quibbs126]

Also now Sandwich Cookie is making me hungry for sandwiches

But it’s like 3 so I can’t just go and get one

[nineteenninety-six]

Stray in the Street

TOMMY SHELBY X READER

2.3K Words

She found him unconscious in the street and even though she knew she shouldn’t, she dragged him into her house. It was pouring down with rain and if she left him out there on the street in the rain, she doubted he’d be alive in the morning. 

While he wasn’t as heavy as she thought he would be, it was still a hassle to pull him up and drag him to her house. At first, she had thought he was drunk and had collapsed into the street as that wasn’t uncommon for her street but it was until she had dragged him in front of her fireplace and turned the lights of her front room on did she realise that he was far from a drunk.

He had cuts and bruises littered on his face and hands and (Y/N) would bet that there was more underneath his shirt. She left the stranger by the fireplace in hopes that it would dry him off and keep him warm as she collected her first aid kit, a bowl of water and a clean rag, she didn’t know much first aid but she knew enough to clean the cuts out and bandage them.

She didn’t know what to think of the man as she cleaned and disinfected his cuts, he looked vulnerable as he laid unconscious with his head on her lap and (Y/N) couldn’t help but wonder what he had gotten into that had left him like that. Maybe he had some unpaid debts or perhaps slept with the wife of a rich and important man but whatever it was, it must have been serious. 

(Y/N) was exhausted, she had been up early and had been working all day so all she wanted to do was sleep but she couldn’t with the stranger in her house. He could wake up in a panic, having no clue where the hell he was and she would have to explain but despite all that, she couldn’t resist the pull of sleep and fell asleep on her couch.

.•° ✿ °•.

(Y/N) shot up with a gasp and her eyes immediately went to the space in front of the fireplace but it was empty. As she stood up as she tried to listen to see if he was still in the house she felt something fall off her and when she looked down she saw a blanket pooled around her feet, something she most definitely did not fall asleep with. 

She bent down to pick it up when she heard shuffling in the kitchen and the blanket was quickly thrown aside in pursuit of the noise. She made her way towards the kitchen with quiet steps and peered around the corner and spotted the stranger at her kitchen table, yesterday's paper in hand with the glass of water beside him. There didn’t seem to be anything nefarious going on with the man so she walked into the kitchen, announcing herself to him.

“I’m surprised to see you up” 

Dawn was breaking and (Y/N) could see blues and purples starting to appear in the sky which meant she was asleep for around four hours.

The man flinched in surprise and looked up at her and the first thing (Y/N) noticed was his blue eyes.

“You were asleep when I woke up” The man folded the newspaper up and placed it on the table and (Y/N) could see the way his body flinched in pain whenever he moved beyond his bounds.

“You could have woke me up. You had no issue placing a blanket on me” (Y/N) didn’t know how she was so calm now that the stranger was awake.

“The fire had gone out, you looked cold”

(Y/N) smiled at that before she walked further into the kitchen, “I’ll make us some tea. Are you hungry?”

The man shook his head but (Y/N) was going to make toast for him anyway.

With the toast and the tea on the table, (Y/N) took a seat opposite the man who returned to reading the newspaper, she watched him for a bit before she spoke to him, wanting to know more information.

“You know that’s yesterday’s paper right?” She started off with a soft conversation opener

The man looked at her and shrugged, “I was busy yesterday”

(Y/N) let her eyes run over his cuts and bruises, “I could tell”

The man placed the newspaper down and faced her fully before he asked the question that had been weighing on him since he woke up “Why did you take me in?”

“I thought you were some drunk at first and usually I would have left you there but it was raining and stumbling across a dead body on my way to work isn’t my favourite way to start the day.” (Y/N) told him, “I brought you in and then I saw your cuts so I cleaned them and patched them up”

The man fingered the bandage around his right hand and nodded his thanks towards (Y/N). 

“Are you going to tell me how you become unconscious and dumped on the street?” 

The mans face instantly screwed up at her question and (Y/N) quickly corrected herself, 

“-Or not. You can keep your secrets”

They remained in silence after that, drinking their tea but it didn’t escape (Y/N)’s notice that the man ate the toast she had laid out. 

When the clock struck eight, (Y/N) pushed herself away from the table and stood up, 

“Look, I’ve got to get ready for work but you’re free to stay here if you want but please don’t burn my house down” 

With that (Y/N) disappeared upstairs to get ready for the day and the only reason she had a skip in her step after only having four hours of sleep was because it was Friday. 

.•° ✿ °•.

When (Y/N) returned home from work, she expected the man to have left but she found him relaxing on her couch like he owned it, though this time with a glass of whiskey and today’s newspaper, which meant he had definitely gone to the shops.

“You haven’t gone home?”

“You said I could stay”

“I did” (Y/N) sat down next to him, “Though I would appreciate if I knew the name of my stray”

The man’s lips twitched at her nickname for him before he stuck his hand out, “Tommy. Tommy Shelby”

(Y/N) shook his hand, “Nice to meet you, Tommy. I’m (Y/N).”

(Y/N) sunk into the couch with a tired huff, her long hours were not worth it but she couldn’t pay the bills otherwise.

“Do you know how to cook, Tommy?”

Tommy looked at her from the corner of his eye and shook his head, “I don’t but I know who can”

“Will they be able to cook for me?” (Y/N) was too tired to even make herself a sandwich

“I’m sure they’ll have no problem but first I need a phone and a car”

“I’ve got a phone but I can’t help you with a car”

“That’s fine” Tommy stood up and stretched, “Where are we? Is Small Heath nearby?”

“Small Heath? Yeah, it’s the next town over, maybe a fifteen-minute walk”

“Good, I’ve got a couple of phone calls to make. Where’s your phone?”

(Y/N) pointed at the kitchen and Tommy disappeared. She had no clue where he was going to take her nor what the relevance of Small Heath was but the man interested her and she was keen to find out more.

Tommy returned and raised his eyebrows at her, “You ready?”

“Yup!” (Y/N) jumped up from the couch and picked up her coat and handbag before she followed Tommy out of the house, “Where are we off too?”

“Small Heath first, gotta pick something up but then I’ll take you to where the food is”

(Y/N) nodded and followed him as he walked to Small Heath, the journey was quiet and short but (Y/N) wished she changed out of her heels because her feet were killing her.

When they arrived in Small Heath, Tommy strutted around like he owned the place and add the fact that everyone they walked by including police officers, nodded their head and called him ‘Mr Shelby’, (Y/N) wondered if she was far off by that assumption. 

She followed behind him as he made his way down a street called, ‘Watery Lane’ and stopped at the house with a car outside it. He spoke to the man leaning against the house and took a pair of keys from him and had a little conversation before the man retreated back into the house but not before he took a look at her.

Tommy held the keys up at her and motioned for her to get into the car, 

“C’mon let’s get going”

(Y/N) cautiously made her way into the car, nervous as she has never ridden in one before but she didn’t want to dawdle and waste time.

“Who’s car is this?” (Y/N) asked as Tommy pulled away from the curb, “And where are we going?”

“Company car and we’re going to Warwickshire”

“Company car?”

“My company”

Now (Y/N) was all the more confused on why he ended up outside of her house. If he owned a company and cars then he couldn’t have been in debt, though it was still a very small possibility. 

“Right…”

(Y/N) ended up falling asleep on the journey to wherever Tommy was taking her and was woken up when he gently shook her awake. 

“C’mon sleeping beauty, your food is waiting” Tommy whispered as she woke up. 

“Fucking hell!” (Y/N) couldn’t help herself when she saw the house in front of her, it was bigger than all the houses on her street put together.

Tommy was already out of the car and heading towards the door so (Y/N) quickly jumped out and followed him, quietly marvelling at the house.  Tommy walked into the house and had only taken two steps when was ambushed by a maid.

“Mr Shelby! Where have you been? We haven’t seen you in two days and suddenly we get a call which only tells us to prepare some food” The maid is simultaneously  exasperated and worried, “Look, you’ve got all these cuts and-”

“Mary, it’s fine. I’m fine” Tommy cuts her off, “You have no reason to worry”

“Don’t need to worry-” Mary scoffed before she noticed (Y/N) for the first time and a flush came up her neck, embarrassed at being seen that way by a stranger. 

“The uh chefs have finished dinner, everything is waiting in the dining room” Mary’s eyes never left her feet. 

“Thank you, Mary”

(Y/N) quickly thanked the maid as well before she followed Tommy.

“You have a maid?!”

“Several, actually”

(Y/N) gaped at the man and his wealth, she was rendered speechless by everything that man did. 

Tommy pushed open the door to one of the rooms and gestured that she go first, so she did and she found a large table filled with plates of food she had only dreamed of having. They were all extravagant and high quality, something she could never have afforded.

“Take this as a thank you for everything you did”

“I didn’t ask for all of this, I would have been fine with a simple meal”

“You did something stupid, taking a stranger in from the street….but I am thankful for what you did.” Tommy looked shy as he said those words, “Me giving you dinner, is the least I could do to repay you.”

“Well, I’m not complaining” (Y/N) said as she took a seat and pulled the closest dish towards her.

“You did though” Tommy deadpanned.

(Y/N) held up her thumb and index finger and brought them together until there was only a small gap between them, and grinned up at Tommy, “Only slightly though.”

Tommy took a seat opposite her and continued small talk with (Y/N) as she ate the food in front of her. She was a curious woman, snarky yet kind and considerate and he liked her. 

“What’s your job?” He asked once she finished. 

“Accountant” (Y/N) scowled, “Long hours, underpaid and undervalued, it’s my dream job”

“How about you work for me?”

(Y/N) choked on the water she was drinking, “E-Excuse me?”

“Obviously, I need to see how you work and if you are suitable to work for the company but what do you say?”

“Are you just doing this because of yesterday?” (Y/N) was unsure of where this was coming from. 

“You said you were underpaid and undervalued, you won’t be if you work for me”

“What exactly is it you do?” (Y/N) had been curious as to how he got his massive house.

“Shelby Company Limited is in the business of exportation. We export goods from Birmingham around the world, specifically car parts” Tommy drawled as if he was repeating a pitch for rich investors. 

“Where’s the office, Small Heath?”

Tommy nodded, “What do you think?”

“What am I getting paid?”

Tommy gave a little smirk, “Above average, I assure you. Plus additional benefits.”

(Y/N) nodded after a moment and stuck her hand out, “You’ve got a deal”

Tommy took her hand and shook it once, as a confirmation of their agreement.

“I’ll pick you up on Monday and take you to the office where you can sign the paperwork.”

“Sounds good but speaking of, how am I supposed to get home tonight?”

Tommy looked at the clock in the room and was surprised at how late it was, “It’s late, you can stay the night, there’s plenty of guest rooms.”

“No shit” 

Tommy ignored (Y/N)’s comment, “I’ll have a driver take you home tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“If you’re done here, Mary can show you to your room”

“Absolutely.”

As (Y/N) followed Mary upstairs, she realised she never found out why Tommy was left unconscious outside of her house.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (3)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Fun fact: the final scene of this chapter is part of my original brainstorm for this fic. The rest of the scenes I initially dreamt up won’t come until much later, so I’m thrilled to have at least one of them come early on in the story. 

To Carrie and Anna, the lights of my life: I named the neighbor after you two. She’s annoying as shit and nothing like either of you, but I needed a name and decided if anyone deserves to have their name as an Easter egg, it’s the two of you. 

*****

Despite the storm, Matty has the shipment of borrowed guns delivered to the Port of Houston in the middle of the night. While they eat breakfast, Mac and Riley study Matty’s excruciatingly detailed directions for navigating the port and finding their shipping crate. She certainly didn’t make it easy on them. 

Riley leans back in her chair, looking around until her eyes land on Harley. “Time for you to earn your keep,” she says between mouthfuls of toast. 

Supposedly, this is what Harley specializes in—sniffing out weapons. The dog should be able to confirm which shipping container the guns are stashed in without Mac or Riley having to check themselves. Theoretically. 

Mac finishes his own plate of eggs and toast in a few ravenous bites. “Thanks for making breakfast.” He gets up to clear the plates and start rinsing dishes. After living with her for more than a year, Riley making breakfast is routine, but Mac still thanks her for it every day. 

Living in the apartment together, they fall right back into their old habits. Mac wakes up early and goes for a run. By the time he returns, Riley is awake and making breakfast. After they eat, Mac showers while Riley goes on her own run. And so on and so forth. 

While Mac was out this morning, he wove through the whole neighborhood, making sure it’s safe for Riley to go out alone. She can handle herself, but Mac has no delusions about the overall quality of men on the streets, and even though he can’t fix that, at least he can help minimize her chances of encountering creepy dudes. 

Before they leave for the Port, Mac and Riley scour their car for a bug or any other surveillance equipment the organization might’ve hidden while they were inside the warehouse talking to Conrad yesterday. They find none. Thankfully. 

Once again, they’re going in armed, and the weight of Mac’s gun feels just as foreign and unwelcome as it did yesterday. He tries not to fidget with it while Riley drives, but she notices his discomfort anyway. “You’ve got to relax,” she says. “All your squirming is stressing me out.” 

“Sorry.” Mac stills, even though his whole body screams to put the gun somewhere else. 

Anywhere else. 

Once they arrive at the Port, Mac guides Riley through the maze of cranes and crates and warehouses until they find the one Matty had the guns stashed in—dark green and otherwise nondescript. 

Unfortunately, there are multiple shipping containers that fit that description at the location Matty provided. As they get out of the SUV, Riley glances between the boxes nervously. “Uhh, which one is it?” 

Mac doesn’t have a clue. “I guess that’s for Harley to tell us.” He looks down at the dog standing obediently beside him. “Find it.” 

He releases the leash as Harley takes off like a rocket, sniffing each container and the surrounding area. She inspects more than half of them before sitting and looking back at Mac. He waits for her to bark, but she doesn’t. Whoever trained her clearly did so with stealth in mind. 

“Do we open it to double check?” Riley asks. 

Mac opens his mouth to say yes, but he doesn’t get a chance to answer before a muddy, dark-blue diesel truck parks beside their SUV. Conrad jumps out of the driver’s seat, accompanied by two younger men, wearing matching scowls and Carhartt jackets. He walks with that same entitled swagger, and a cheap smile spreads across his face. 

“Mr. Turner!” Conrad exclaims, shaking Mac’s hand. His grip is too firm to be friendly. Stepping back, he sneers at Riley, acknowledging her just long enough to impatiently say, “Genevieve.” Mac doesn’t miss the way Conrad’s eyes drop to Riley’s chest, nor the way Riley bristles beside him, wrapping her jacket more tightly around her and crossing her arms to hold it in place. Mac clears his throat. “Sorry,” Conrad says, not sounding sorry at all, “but your wife is very attractive.” 

Riley rolls her eyes so hard they nearly fall out of her head. 

“Your order is this way,” Mac says, cutting off Conrad before he could make another gross statement, “Follow me.” Mac puts a hand on Conrad’s shoulder, squeezing hard as he steers the man toward the shipping container. Harley is still sitting beside it, waiting patiently, and Mac scratches her head with his free hand. 

Riley whistles, a single sharp note that sends Harley running back to her side. Mac buries his relief that she’s not alone, although he’d still much rather the hulking bodyguards were closer to him than Riley. 

Focus, Mac reminds himself. Riley can hold her own. Just get this over with. 

Mac opens the container, revealing two nondescript wooden crates. Still sneering—at this point, Mac’s starting to think that’s the only expression Conrad is capable of—Conrad waves over his bodyguards, gesturing for them to open the crates. 

For just a second, Conrad’s sneer edges toward a smile. Inside the crates lie exactly what he ordered: military-grade, semi-automatic rifles and enough ammo to kickstart the apocalypse. Mac’s gut churns. He hates this. He hates everything about this. He hates that he’s arming terrorists. He hates how these men look at Riley like dogs drooling over a steak. He hates that he can’t do anything about any of it, that he has no choice but to play along. 

Mac wishes he could bury his feelings the way Riley does, locking them behind a carefully controlled mask. Instead, his linger just beneath the surface, waiting to make themselves known at the first available opportunity. 

Counting backward from five, he steels himself to finish the game. Just as Conrad brushes a reverent finger down the barrel of a rifle, Mac chides, “We followed through on our end of the bargain. Did you?” 

“Of course.” 

One of the bodyguards pulls out his phone. In a deeper voice than Mac expects, he says, “We can wire the payment to your bank account right now.” 

“Good. My wife will help you set that up.” Mac gestures to Riley, and the bodyguard walks over to her. 

Conrad extends his hand, and Mac takes it, trying not to wince when his arm brushes his concealed gun. “Pleasure doing business with you, James,” Conrad says. 

“I hope this is the beginning of a long and prosperous partnership.” Long and prosper? Who was he, Spock? 

“Indeed. Welcome to the Patriots.” Conrad gestures for his men to start loading the guns into their truck. “Expect another order within the week.” 

Mac doesn’t know how to respond to that. Thankfully he doesn’t have to, because Riley waves him over, apparently having finished her conversation with Conrad’s lackey. “I’ll leave you to it,” Mac says, then turns his back on the terrorists and rejoins Riley. On instinct, he reaches for her arm as he murmurs, “Are you okay?” 

Riley tenses under his touch, but doesn’t pull away. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“Good.” He said the same thing to Conrad just a minute ago. Good. But the word is light years different from before—soft and caring, not curt and vaguely challenging. Bozer pointed it out to him once, how he talks to Riley differently than he does anyone else. 

Mac shakes off the thought. He can’t get distracted, no matter how much his mind only wants to think about Riley. Releasing her arm, he says, “Let’s get out of here.”

*****

Back at the apartment, Riley settles in on the couch to dig into the Patriots' bank records. By wire-transferring the money instead of paying them in cash, Conrad practically offered up the organization's entire digital footprint on a silver platter, at least to someone like Riley. She doesn't speak as she works, so Mac listens to the melody of keyboard clicks while he makes them each a grilled cheese. 

Contrary to popular belief, he's not completely incompetent, although Bozer has nearly everyone convinced otherwise. Mac will never be able to cook something fancy, but he does make a mean sandwich. 

He even spreads mayo on the bread, the way Bozer does, because Riley prefers it that way. 

The sizzle of the sandwiches hitting the hot pan joins the keyboard clicks right as Riley announces, "I hacked into their bank records." 

"What've you got?" 

"From the look of it, the shell corp they used to pay us has only been around for four months. Before that, they must've either paid in cash or used personal accounts." 

"That makes sense though, since the Patriots haven't been around all that long." 

"That's what I thought at first, but come look." Mac does, leaning over the back of the couch so his head is right beside hers. Riley points at the screen. "The first three transactions were all big deposits, each one two weeks apart." 

Frowning, Mac squints at the tiny numbers on the screen. "One hundred thousand dollars?" 

"Times three deposits," Riley adds. 

"Where the hell did they get that kind of money?"

"I don't know. The deposits were cash." 

“Damn. Did you at least figure out who their previous arms dealer was?” 

“Yeah.” Riley shifts, causing her hair to tickle Mac’s nose, and he brushes her hair to the opposite side of her neck without another thought. “Turns out their previous dealer has Mexican cartel connections, which explains why the Patriots only paid them twice. I’m guessing they found out about the cartel part and broke it off before they made a long-term deal.” 

“At least they’re not complete idiots,” Mac mumbles. Tired of squinting, he leans closer to better see the screen. 

Except now they’re cheek to cheek, and Mac suddenly can’t focus on the screen at all. 

Riley twists to look at him, and it takes every ounce of Mac’s willpower not to glance at her lips. "Are you burning my grilled cheese?" 

"No." He straightens, simultaneously disappointed and relieved by the space now between them. Mac shakes off the thought. He can’t keep getting distracted like this. 

"Uh huh. Sure." 

Retreating to the kitchen, Mac calls, "That was one time!"

*****

As expected, they don’t hear anything from Conrad or the Patriots the following day. Mac doesn’t know what to do with all the downtime on this op. There are plenty of books in the apartment, but he’s too restless to sit and read. He opens the fridge, more out of boredom than actual hunger. 

They’re on day five of the undercover op, and it’s starting to feel an awful lot like quarantine. With nothing to do but hurry up and wait, hanging out in the apartment and doing nothing is starting to make Mac go a little stir crazy. 

When Riley emerges from the bedroom wearing workout clothes, it’s clear she feels the same way. “I’m going for a run,” she announces. 

“Want company?” He hopes she says yes. Anything to get out of the apartment for a while. 

Riley unplugs her phone from the charger and slides it into her pocket. “No offense, but no.” 

Dammit. Mac shoves down his disappointment. “None taken.” He closes the fridge. Nothing in there looks good. 

“Tell you what,” she says. “After I get back we can go to the space museum, okay?” 

His heart skips a beat at her offer. “Is it that obvious I’m bored?” 

“Yes.” Riley gives him a pitying smile. “So do you want to go?” 

Mac smiles. It feels like she just asked him out on a date. It’s not, but it feels like one anyway. Be cool. “What kind of question is that? Of course I do.” 

“Okay then.” Popping in her earbuds, she walks out the door. 

“Enjoy your run, muffin!” Mac calls, stealing Bozer’s go-to pet name for when he’s undercover with Riley. She reaches back inside to flip him off before slamming the door shut, and Mac chuckles. Riley really hates that nickname.

Now it’s just him, Harley, and this tiny apartment. 

Resuming his search for food he’s not even hungry for, Mac opens the pantry, and Harley comes running into the kitchen. She must’ve learned the sound of the door opening since they keep the dog food in there. Harley looks up at Mac expectantly. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” She whines, and her pleading expression reminds Mac of the wide-eyed look Bozer mastered as a kid while begging his parents for something. Neither are very effective. “You just had breakfast an hour ago,” he insists.  

Harley glances at the open pantry, then back at him. 

Mac doesn’t give in, but he does kneel to pet her instead, scratching Harley’s neck and ending up with a handful of hair. Frowning, Mac digs through every drawer in the kitchen in search of a dog brush. No luck. He checks the bedroom and bathroom, coming up empty once again. Who even organized this house? It makes no sense. His gaze lands on the laundry room door. 

Ah. 

Sure enough, there’s a dog brush on the shelf above the washing machine. 

Leash and brush in-hand, Mac calls out, “Alright, girl. Let’s go de-floof you.” 

Harley takes one look at the brush and sprints in the other direction. 

Well this is going to be harder than Mac anticipated. 

He ends up chasing Harley throughout the apartment, zig-zagging from one room to the next. Every time Mac gets close, Harley slips by, just out of reach. After the fourth time she sends Mac stumbling into the furniture after lunging for her and missing, he realizes what she’s doing. 

Harley is playing him. This is a game to her. And, so far, she’s winning. 

Mac stares the dog down, and she seems to narrow her eyes in response. “Challenge accepted,” he tells her. 

This time, he knows exactly where to find what he’s looking for—peanut butter. He smears an unnecessarily large glob into Harley’s dog bowl, making sure she sees exactly what he’s doing. Harley’s stubborn, and does a good job of appearing not to care, but Mac has a hard time believing any dog would turn down peanut butter. 

Harley, it turns out, is no exception. 

She follows him to the door, and Mac rewards her with a few licks of peanut butter while he clips on the leash, careful not to let her eat so much that there’s not enough to last while brushing her. Despite Harley’s obvious enjoyment of the peanut butter, Mac is no fool. She let him win this round, no doubt about it. 

He leads Harley down the stairs to the small lawn in front of the apartment building, where it wouldn’t matter if he left dog hair everywhere. The brush pulls away thick chunks of her undercoat with each pass, and it doesn’t take long for the lawn to look like something died there. 

The peanut butter, unfortunately, doesn’t last nearly as long as Mac hopes. 

Mac figures out pretty quickly that Harley does not like her tail being brushed; she turns away and tucks her tail and generally makes it impossible for Mac to reach it. He sits back on his heels, formulating a new strategy. “If I don’t brush your tail,” he says, “you’re going to look like a squirrel, and neither of us wants that.” 

Harley’s ears prick at the word squirrel. 

Mac tries again, and this time Harley lets him…sort of. It’s not perfect, but at least she won’t be leaving hair all over the apartment anymore—hair that he needs to vacuum, because Riley asked him to last night and he’d completely forgotten until now. Tucking the brush into his back pocket, Mac scratches Harley’s ears the way he learned she likes, and when she leans into his touch, Mac’s heart swells. 

“Good girl.” He kisses her head, and Harley licks his chin in return. “See? We’re not so bad.” Mac sighs. “I know we’re not who you wanted, but we’re going to take good care of you.” 

Riley made the same promise in the war room. Even if she doesn’t stay with them after the op, Mac will make sure Harley ends up with people who will love her for the rest of her life. 

“I promise,” he murmurs into her fur, kissing her head again.

Mac startles when a feminine voice calls, “You could make a whole other dog from all that hair.” A middle-aged woman stands in the walkway, oversized blue purse on her shoulder and car keys in hand. She smiles at Mac. “I haven’t seen you before. Did you just move in?” 

“Yeah,” Mac says, standing up. “My wife and I moved in this week.” 

“Well, welcome. My name is Carrie Ann, and my husband and I live in apartment 317. Feel free to stop by anytime. I think you’ll like living here, though I must warn you that it gets pretty loud during football season.” 

Mac nods. “Nice to meet you. I’m James.” He expects Carrie Ann to keep walking—presumably to her car—but she doesn’t, and Mac suddenly gets the feeling this conversation is about to be much longer than he wants. 

“And who is this cutie?” she asks, directing her attention to the dog. 

“This is Harley.” 

Carrie Ann sounds like a squeaker toy, greeting Harley in a voice so high-pitched it’s almost inhuman and petting her without bothering to ask for permission. Harley eyes the woman warily but surprisingly sits still. “I love dogs,” she says at a mercifully normal decibel. “Sadly my husband is allergic.” 

“That is unfortunate.” Mac shifts from foot to foot, eager to escape the small talk. He’s never really had the patience for it. 

Carrie Ann, it seems, is completely oblivious to his discomfort. She prattles on, asking asinine questions about what he does for work, if he’s been to the coffee place down the street, and when she can meet his wife. 

Mac doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse when Riley appears in his peripheral vision, as if on cue. “Actually,” he says to Carrie Ann, “you can meet her right now.” Mac flashes Riley a wide, bright smile that she returns half-heartedly, chest still heaving after her run. Sweat glistens on her body, and a few wispy curls that escaped her ponytail are now plastered to her face. “This is my wife, Genevieve.” 

Giving Harley a quick scratch, Riley stands beside him, close enough that Mac can feel the heat radiating off her body. Instinctively, he starts to put a hand on her back, but he quickly pulls away. She’s not wearing a shirt—only a sports bra and those stupidly tight leggings—and the intimacy of putting his hand on her bare skin is too much to handle. “Hi,” she says, completely oblivious to Mac’s internal panic. 

Carrie Ann introduces herself again, and Mac is only half-listening while she and Riley chat. Riley’s so much better at small talk anyway. 

He’s much too focused on how Riley grabs his shoulder to use him for balance while she stretches. She’s so casual about it, like she’s done it a million times before. His skin burns under her touch. 

Mac wants to feel more of her, wants his whole body to feel like that. 

Stop it, he chastises himself. Stop thinking about her like that. 

He can’t. 

Even after Riley lets go, the feeling lingers, and Mac can’t stop thinking about that too. She’s standing slightly in front of him now, almost as if she’s protecting him from their nosey neighbor.

“When are you having kids?” Carrie Ann coos. “An attractive couple such as yourselves would make such beautiful children.” 

Shit. He and Riley never talked about that. 

Before Mac can come up with an answer, Riley pulls his arms around her, a smile blooming on her face. She guides his hands to rest low on her abdomen. “We’re actually trying right now.” 

Mac’s brain short-circuits. 

He blushes, both at the casual intimacy of Riley wrapping herself in him and at the implications of what she just said. Pressing her body fully into Mac’s, Riley looks up at him, smiling like he’s her whole world, and Mac’s heart stops. He’s not breathing. 

His whole body burns, and the feeling is so much more intense than he imagined just seconds ago. 

Alight with mischief, Riley’s dark brown eyes draw him in, and suddenly Mac is picturing Riley with that exact same expression while wearing far less clothing. 

Mac thinks he might die from spontaneous combustion. 

You are so beautiful, he barely stops himself from saying. His blush deepens as he’s snared in the mental image of him and Riley doing said “trying.” 

Their neighbor has the audacity to laugh. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it, Genevieve. Your husband looks like he’s ready for another round.” 

That makes it worse. So much worse. If he doesn’t spontaneously combust, then he’ll definitely die of embarrassment. It’s not how he wants to die, but it’s better than explaining his reaction to Riley. Because she’s going to ask him about it. Mac knows this—knows this like he knows grass is green and gravity is what keeps his feet on the ground.

As soon as Carrie Ann leaves, Riley does exactly that. She extricates herself from his grasp, putting her hands on her hips and furrowing her brow the way she always does when she knows something’s up. “Are you okay?” she asks. 

Mac’s voice is strained as he replies, “Yeah. I’m good.” 

He is not good. He is definitely not good. 

And Riley knows it. 

This op feels like all Mac’s worst nightmares coming to fruition. Simultaneously. 

Riley can’t know. Her knowing would ruin everything—their friendship, their work, their trust. Mac can hardly look her in the eye. How is Riley supposed to trust him when he’s secretly thinking about her like that? He’s her friend; he’s supposed to protect her from guys who want her like that, not become one of them. 

But god does Mac want to be one of them. Not one of them, he corrects himself. The only one. 

He’s screwed.

.

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[stay-tinystars]

Office Wars: Love and War

Ship: San x fem reader

Warnings: Angsty, Y/N is a jerk most of the time. Female reader

Enemies to Lovers. 

words: 3,289

A/N: I found a post last week which assigned you an AU for your birthday. So I wrote this Slice of Life Enemies to Lovers because of it. Though to be fair, it’s kind of a one sided enemy situation. It ended more abruptly than I expected, but I hope you guys like it.

----------

The tension was obvious. As he sat across from you.

"You two will just have to deal with each other til we move to the new place next month" your boss, Mr. Kim said. You supposed it made sense, since you had the only solo office in your building, and being as San held the same position as you.

But it isn't your fault the two branches of your work are merging to a central location triple the size of your current office space. Nor is it your fault that the other locations lease ended 4 weeks early, due to some weird clause within the contract.

You sighed as you left your bosses office.

"Look, I know you’re not happy about this, and neither am I, but we've got to make this work" San said as he followed you. You stopped abruptly, and turned on your heel. His shocked face ended up being closer to you than expected.

"Look, I will be as nice as I can," You glared. "But that’s only because Mr. Kim is the best boss I've had."

You started storming back to your office, leaving San staring as you walked away. The bane of your existence was now sharing an office with you. If he only wasn't so 'perfect', you'd think you could manage.

He started at the company almost a year after you did, and started moving up the corporate ladder quicker than you had. He had skills, that you could admit. You only wished he hadn't gone and applied for the same position you wanted a month after he started. You both got considered, and ended up being the top two for the position. You had been working so hard that when San got the position over you, that is when the hatred really started. Once the company got larger, they decided to open a new location, you hoped that meant your dream position, and maybe a change of scenery. Well, you got the position, but San due to his sweet talking got the new location. Worse of it all, being as the boss considered San to be an attractive man, as did everyone else in the company, he became the face of the company on the advertisements. So, no matter where you turned in the city, there he was. San seemed to get it all, and everyone seemed to fawn over him, except you. To you he lived up to his name "mountain", because all he ever seemed to do was be something you could never beat, and he was always in the way of your goals.

They had moved your desk and items all to the right side of the room, and had placed an unfamiliar ornate desk flush with the front of your desk. So now you not only had to share the office, but now you had to look at him the whole time. Everything seemed so cramped, instead of spread out like you enjoyed. You sat down on your chair grumpily, as you decided to start to work.

"Wow, this actually looks nice" San said, entering the room, and smiling at you.

"It will do" you grumbled.

San sauntered over to his desk, and sat down. Everything he did just seemed to grind on the last nerve you had. So, you decided that you would just do your best to keep to yourself, and stay focused on your work.

"So, where do you usually go for lunch around here?" He questioned, as he gazed at you over his computer monitor. You took a deep breath trying to hide your annoyance at being disrupted.

"Well lunch is usually at 12:30, and I usually bring my own, or go to the small Cafe next door" you responded dryly.

"How about I treat my new office mate to lunch then." He said cheerily, showing his million-dollar smile, complete with dimples. You considered lying and saying your brought lunch today, then your tummy grumbled. You glanced at the clock 12:15.

"Sure, I guess." You muttered, as you continued typing. It seemed too quick when lunch came, but the thought of free food was your only motivation as you and San walked together to the small Cafe next door.

"I never came here when we worked together before" San said as the waitress showed you to your normal booth.

"That’s because everyone else tends to want to go somewhere fancier. I’ve always just liked the small soups and sandwiches here." You said looking over the menu, even though you got practically the same thing every time you came here.

"Oh gosh, Y/N! You brought a date! That's so exciting! You never bring anyone around here!" The overly excited waitress Jin said. You were about to correct her, when San reached over and placed his hand on yours.

"Yes, she told me how amazing this place is, and I just had to try it" San said, oblivious to the daggers you were glaring at him.

The waitress just looked at San, with the same admiration as everyone else did.

"Well, she usually gets the Gilgeori toast, and a water." The waitress said, never taking her eyes away from him.

"I will take that as well" San said happily, and the waitress nodded and skipped away. You ripped your hands away from him.

"What the hell was that?" You fumed wiping your hands on your pants.

"Just trying to get to know my new office mate." he smiled.

"That doesn't include touching me! Nor does it include making the staff here think I'm on a date!" Your words dripping with venom.

"Well they seemed so excited that you were on a date I didn't want to let them down." He smiled, "but I’ll refrain from touching you again." rolling his eyes.

"Here are the waters, and the food will be out shortly" Jin smiled, as she placed the drinks on the table.

"Thanks Jin" you smiled at her. She nodded, then looked at San raising her eyebrows, then winking.

You folded your arms and sat back in the booth, as San laughed.

"You definitely don't ever bring anyone, here do you?" He asked.

"Why would I? It’s my lunch break."

"By the way they are all acting, you must never date." he chuckled as he watched the small staff gossiping behind the counter as they all kept looking towards the two of you.

"My love life is none of your business" you glared, fists tightening in my crossed arms. He leaned back putting his arm over the back of the bench. A smirk dancing across his face as he stared at you.

"Why do you act as if you hate me?" He questioned.

"Because I do"

"Why"

"Because, you.... ugh” you almost yelled.

"In my 23 years on this fine earth, I have never heard a worse answer. I expect more." His smirk growing, as well as your anger.

"So not only are you so perfect, besting me at my own job, you're also younger than me!" You snapped.

"So you hate me, because I'm perfect, Noona, tell me more" he said emphasizing the fact that you are older than him. He usually was so nice, but oh boy was he enjoying pushing all your buttons.

You went to stand up, when Jin brought your food over. Along with a piece of chocolate cake.

"The cake is on the house, for your date!" she squealed, oblivious to the body language and tension in the air. You just stared at her.

"Thank you, Jin! That’s a lovely gesture" San said, his voice sounding like honey, overly sweet. It made you sick.

You looked towards San as he smiled and picked up his toast, biting one corner. You looked down at your food, the warmth and smell helping you calm down.

A smile reached your lips as you savored the warm sandwich. This meal was always one that comforted you. Despite the stress of your job, or anything else going on in your life.

"You look very happy, I don't know if I've ever seen you smile like that" San stated as he continued on his toast.

"Overall, I'm a happy person" you replied, taking another mouthful.

"I've never seen you happy." he thought aloud. You decided against responding as you continued eating. He was really pushing all your buttons, but you couldn't let him win, not over lunch.

You wiped your mouth as you finished your sandwich. A content sigh leaving your lips as you looked towards the slice of cake. San grabbed a fork, and scooped off a piece.

"Here " he said, moving his fork towards you.

"I can feed myself." you stated, grabbing the other fork.

"But we're supposed to be on a date" he raised his eye brows, then gestured towards the counter where three employees stared at the two of you like a k drama. You debated shoving his fork towards his face, but decided against it. Leaning towards him you ate the piece he offered you. The sounds of excitement rang through the small Cafe as the three employees freaked out.

"Now it’s my turn" he smirked. You imagined picking up the plate and shoving it in his face. Instead, you scooped up some cake with your fork. Lifting it towards him, he went to eat it and you purposely moved it to smear it on his face. "You want to play dirty?" He chuckled, and grabbed some cake with his hands then shoved it into your face, with laughter.

"You’re wasting a perfectly good cake!" you hollered as you went to grab some, only to have San move the plate away from you, holding it high above your head.

You took a deep breath, and looked down at yourself. You had chocolate all over. You prayed it was just crumbs. You quickly left the table and went to the bathroom. Your face was covered in cake and frosting.  You quickly grabbed some paper towels and got them wet and started cleaning your face off. Once that looked acceptable, you did your best to brush off the cake from your blouse. Luckily there was only a small spot of frosting, unfortunately it was dead center on your chest. You did your best to clean it off, only succeeding in making your shirt damp and the spot slightly larger. Today was the wrong day to wear lavender.

"You and your boyfriend are too cute!" Jin said as you exited the bathroom.

"He's not my boyfriend, he's barely a friend" you mumbled, knowing she wouldn't even care what you said.

"He already paid, and is waiting outside" she giggled.

"Thanks, and sorry for the mess." you waved, as you exited the door. A quick glance told you San had already headed back to work. You sighed grateful for the short but peaceful walk alone.

~~~

The rest of the week San continued to smile at you, he tried going to lunch with you again, but you brought your lunch from home the rest of the week. He knew how to push your buttons, but most days he held back, being just overly sweet to you, which almost made it all worse.

You began counting down the days til the office move, because every day meant one less day sharing an office.

"Noona, want to join me for lunch today?" San asked the following Monday.

"I swear San, stop calling me noona!" You threw a pen at him. He dodged laughing.

"But you're older than me noona." A smirk gracing his lips.

"I have told you to just call me Y/N" you said, as you continued on your work.

"Ok Y/N, would you join me for lunch today"? he asked again.

"I brought my lunch today San"

"So did I" his dimples seeming to swallow his face.

"So how would I join you?" You asked, looking over the document you had just finished.

"Well I was thinking we could go sit at the park just down the street. We can have a picnic” he stated, lifting up a blanket he pulled from under his desk.

San was starting to wear you down, and you hated admitting it. He was so nice most of the time, despite every harsh and mean thing you said, he would always have a smile.

"It does seem like a nice day, so I suppose I'll join you" you said looking outside.

Once outside, you felt the warm sun, and smiled. It was a perfect day to sit outside and soak up the sunny rays. Most work days you sat in the small break room, and ate while reading. This was a nice change of scenery.

San set out the blanket, and you sat atop it. Legs straight in front of you, crossing your ankles and leaning back onto your hands, closing your eyes, you basked in the sun.

"Wow" San said.

"What" you said opening your eyes and looking around.

"You" he said, you just rolled your eyes.

"Me?" You sighed, as you grabbed your lunch bag.

"Yes, you! Have you seen yourself?" He asked.

"Yes I've seen me." You scoffed, pulling out your food.

"You are gorgeous, especially when you let go. When you are just enjoying the moment, it’s just wow" he smiled.

"You are officially crazy" you said, shaking your head.

"I'm not crazy. Well, maybe I'm crazy about you."

"San, you know I hate you, right?" You said narrowing your eyes, and taking a bite of food.

"If you hate me so much, why are you having lunch with me?"

"Because I'm trying to be somewhat nice to make this forced office situation work, plus it’s a nice day"

"I think you're starting to like me" he said raising his eye brows.

"You’re so full of yourself." you said.

"No, I'm just seeing your wall crumble more and more every day" he said triumphantly.

"Doubtful"

~~~

Tuesday was going quite well, San was being nice, you were being pleasant, when there was a knock at the open office door.

"Come in" you said as you looked up. You saw a beautiful bouquet of wild Sunflowers, your favorite flower. You stood up, smiling.

"Delivery, for San" the man said. As he placed the flowers on San's desk. Your smile faded.

Of course, Mr. Perfect got flowers.

"Wow," he muttered, as he picked up the card. "Congratulations on your new advertisement! I see it every day on my way to work. Love, H" he read aloud.

"So you have an admirer, who gives you flowers" you grumbled.

"No admirer." he said, smelling the flowers.

"Then who are they from?" You asked.

"Are you jealous?" He questioned.

"Of you, no. The flowers, maybe" you responded.

"They're just sunflowers."

"They are the best flowers."

"You can have them if you want" he offered, sliding them towards you.

"No, they are yours, and your admirer would be heartbroken if they didn't see you carry them out of work"

"I told you, I don't have an admirer. And she lives on the other side of the city, she won't care if I don't take them home."

"So the admirer is a girl" you teased.

"No. The girl is my sister. I don't see her often." He sighed.

"Oh" you said looking down at your desk.

"Here have the flowers, I'm more of a roses guy" he said, walking around the desks and handing the flowers to you.

"You really don't have to"

"The way your face lit up when you saw them, you need them more than I do". He said returning to his work.

~~~

By the following week, you had grown comfortable with San. You still despised him, for being the golden child of the company it seemed. Yet he was kind, and you both saw the wall you had built crumble further every day.

"Morning, Noona" San smiled, as you entered the office Friday morning.

"I really wish you'd stop with the noona stuff" you said as you sat at your desk.

"But you are my noona, and doesn't every girl want that noona K drama to come to life?" He laughed.

"Not every girl, some girls just want to be treated well, and not be called noona" you shook your head as you began working.

"So, Y/N." San said, as the work day started winding down.

"Hmm" you acknowledged, as you continued typing.

"I want to.... Can we.... I mean" he stumbled over his words, you looked at him puzzled. He looked flustered; you'd never seen him like this.

"What is it San?" You asked, trying to make eye contact with him.

"Well.... I have these dinner reservations tonight" he started

"Ok?"

"They are at Han Pine" he stared down at his hands.

"Isn't that the new five-star place? How did you get reservations there?" You asked.

"It is the new place, I kind of know the head chef. I made the reservations for two" he looked at you.

"Cool, who are you taking?"

"I was hoping you" he asked. You just sat there for a second.

"Are you asking me out, San?"

"Yes" he said timidly. You sat back. You had never seen him like this, it took you by surprise. The date also took you by surprise.

"I, uh... sure. I'd love to go" you stammered; his face lit up.

"Wonderful!" He smiled, and took a deep breath. "So uh, I'll pick you up at 7, the reservations are at 7:30"

Panic set in at 6:30. What where you supposed to wear? It’s super fancy. Was this a date, or more of a casual thing? What if San just needed a date because of the reservations?

"Y/N, calm down" Yeona your best friend, and roommate said, as you rifled through your closet.

"I can't calm down, he was my enemy. Now I'm going on a date with him! What if this is all a prank?"

"It’s not a prank. I really think he likes you" she reassured.

"But how could he, I've always been a jerk to him. Plus, I'm nowhere near a model like he is. I'm average."

"You're not average! You are gorgeous." She said as she started grabbing your dresses, she tossed them on your bed next to you, "Now put on a dress, and don't smudge your makeup."

You knew better than to argue with her tone. You grabbed your simple plum purple knee length dress, and put it on with some cute black wedge boots.

"Do I look alright?" You asked Yeona.

“You look great!” She nodded while smiling.

"Wow" was all San said, when you opened the door. He was in a nice black suit, a white shirt, and a gray tie. He pushed his hair back nervously.

"You look nice" you said as you stepped out of your apartment.

"You look, just wow" he smiled.

“Thank you” you said looking at the floor.

“Shall we go?” He offered his arm, and you wound your arm in his and started walking.

The new restaurant was beautiful, and the head chef had prepared a special menu, which ended up being delicious.

"This has been incredible, San" you said as you placed your spoon back into the small empty dessert cup.

"It has been" he smiled, as his hand reached towards yours. He stopped, looking at you, as he set his hand on the table.

"What is it?" You asked, moving closer to him.

"Last time I touched your hand you kind of freaked out" he smiled at the memory.

"Well, things have changed." you smiled placing your hands over his.

"Do you still hate me?" He asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Just a little." you teasingly winked.

[inkognito97]

One day, concillor Jedi master Obi-wan Kenobi woke up with Anakin nowhere to be found. Worse, no one remembers an Anakin Skywalker at all.

His headache was there again. Obi-Wan groaned and tried to hide his face in his pillow, against the light that was streaming into his bedroom. It didn’t help. Perhaps he should actually go and see the healers. Then again, he needed to find the time first. Between waging battles in a never ending war, negotiation missions and sitting on the Council, there was not much time for anything else. 

The ginger haired Jedi groaned and threw the blanket away. He shivered when the cooler air hit his skin. This was always the worst part of waking, leaving the warm and comfortable bed. But he had to stand up now. Anakin would soon be there.

Obi-Wan had no idea why, but his former Padawan had made it a habit to come to his quarters to make breakfast and have it there. Sometimes, Ahsoka would join them. Perhaps it was the war and the constant danger of never returning back to the temple that made the blonde so clingy, but in all honesty, Obi-Wan didn’t care. He usually enjoyed the company of his former Padawan, unless he was having a headache that is.

Succumbing to his fate, he grabbed clean clothes and stepped into the fresher that was directly attached to his bedroom. Perks of being on the Council, you had the best quarters to live in. Had they wanted, both Anakin and Ahsoka could easily have lived in his apartment too, especially since there was a second, smaller fresher that he called his. Obi-Wan rarely used it, but sometimes Anakin would. 

With a  yawn, Obi-Wan entered the living space that was directly attached to the kitchen. He had enjoyed the quick shower and it had actually helped against the headache.

“Good morning Master,” a happy voice greeted him.

Obi-Wan blinked. “Good morning Padawan,” he said to the female Togruta, who was seated at the dining table. She was munching at a toast and there was an uneaten one resting beside her. 

That was strange, Ahsoka would come with Anakin or she wouldn’t come at all. The ginger haired Jedi Master decided not to comment on it. There was a first time for everything after all.

“I made you a sandwich Master, I know that you are not eating as regularly as you should. Also, I made your favorite tea.”

It took all of Obi-Wan’s willpower - so early in the morning it was a great effort to summon it - not to protest. Deep down, he knew that he was not properly taking care of himself. The war was taxing and the stress was certainly not helping either. So he didn’t comment on it and decided to just roll with it. And from the smile he received from the female, it had been the right thing to do.

“I guess that Anakin is not going to join us today,” Obi-Wan replied casually, after he had looked at the chrono. He had a Council meeting soon.

“Anakin, Master?”

“Yes, tall, blond, loud, reckless and very talented with mechanics and in piloting. You know him.”

“I do?” the female sounded genuinely confused.

Obi-Wan shot his companion a strange look. Was she toying with him? It didn’t appear to, but with Anakin as her Master, you could never be too sure.

“Oho, I am going to be late for class,” Ahsoka suddenly exclaimed. She jumped up from her chair and ran into her room to retrieve her two lightsabers. Before she ran out of the apartment, she stopped at Obi-Wan’s side and leaned down hug the surprised man. “I’ll see you later, Master,” and with that she was gone.

Obi-Wan was more than a little confused by what had happened. Ahsoka didn’t hug him, there was no reason for it, she just didn’t do it. Also, where was Anakin? He usually send him at least a message, if he was not coming. Something was definitely wrong here, even though the Force did not appear to be in any uproar. 

The Councillor shook his head and began washing the dishes from breakfast. He would think about it later, for now, he had a Council meeting to focus on.

The Council session was a dull affair, mostly because the topics kept on repeating over and over again. It was exhausting in its own way and Obi-Wan was glad when it was finally over. He remained seated while the other Council members slowly left. Today, he just had did not want to spent more time with them, than absolutely necessary.

“Troubled you look, hm?” the Grandmaster’s voice let him look up.

“Nothing to worry about Master Yoda, just tired.”

The green troll hummed and nodded his head. “Exhausting, the war is. But nor everything on your mind, it is.” 

Sometimes Obi-Wan wished that the meddling old Jedi, were not so wise and observant. He sighed in defeat. “I am a little worried about Anakin, I have not heard from him today. It’s not like him.”

Yoda’s ears went up and there was the barest hint of surprise on his features. “Anakin, you say? A contact of you, is he?” he asked.

Obi-Wan blinked. He was sure that his expression must have been something between comical and completely dumb. “I am talking about Anakin Skywalker, my former Padawan.” Was this all a huge prank? He would not put it past Anakin and Ahsoka, but Yoda wasn’t the type to join into such things.

“Your former Padawan, no.” He shook his head, heavily leaning on his walking stick. “Only one Padawan you have, young Ahsoka Tano, it is.”

“Excuse me?” was he going crazy or perhaps he was the only sane one.

“Confused you are.”

“Of course I am,” he sat up straighter in his seat. “Because apparently nobody remembers my former Padawan, except myself.” He didn’t mean to snap, he really didn’t and Yoda must have known this, because otherwise he would definitely have suffered from the walking stick.

“Curious this is, curious indeed. Meditate on this, I shall.” Yoda’s calm voice was the only thing that kept Obi-Wan more or less grounded.

“So you do not remember him either…” he sighed, “If I may, Master Yoda, he was found as a nine year old during my mission with Qui-Gon to Naboo.” He leaned forward, with his arms on his knees and his head slightly bowed. 

Yoda nodded in understanding. “Talk to you I will, when meditated I have.”

“Thank you, Master,” at least he could always count on the fact that Yoda would not deem him completely crazy. He could feel the old Master’s worry and he felt cared for. That was enough for now.

“Am I intruding?” a new voice cut in and it sounded so terrible familiar. Obi-Wan didn’t dare to look up. 

“Intruding you are not. Finished, we are,” Yoda answered and he began to hobble away. Obi-Wan however remained seated. He suddenly felt very ill. His headache had returned, worse than before and his world was beginning to spin.

“Obi-Wan, are you alright? You look pale,” the deep baritone voice sounded close now. Someone had stepped before him, Obi-Wan could tell despite having closed his eyes. “Are you in pain? Do you want me to call the healers?”

Finally, Obi-Wan forced himself to look up and to his utter shock, he found himself gazing into the worried face of Qui-Gon Jinn, who was kneeling before him. The man had a hold of his hands. 

Obi-Wan grimaced and shook his head. That couldn’t be. He knew that Qui-Gon was dead, he had even held the man’s dying body in his arms. So what was happening. Was he hallucinating? Was this a trick of the Sith to get to information through him? Was it a dream, or a nightmare? Obi-Wan didn’t know. He was just pretty sure that this couldn’t be the reality. But the whole day made absolutely no sense. Why could no one remember Anakin and why was Qui-Gon kneeling in front of him. 

“Obi-Wan,” the ginger haired Knight did not know what else the man before him said, because at this moment, the world around became pitch black…