#today was a goddamn rollercoaster

[dumbasssdoodles]

Might be a bit niche but eh

[pop-punklouis]

-

[adelliet]

Bob reynolds x f!reader

HOT MISSION

Summary: After the mission, you, Alexei, and Bob are finally heading home. But the entire drive, you can’t focus on anything else except your boyfriend—and how good he looked while fighting. So when Alexei pulls over to take a quick bathroom break in the woods, you see your chance and take it.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, strong language, semi-public sex, reader is horny asf, soft Bob, unprotected sex (p i v), creampie, dry humping

A/n: Hii! I hope you'll like this story/smut! This is kinda short but I absolutely love it! I am obssesed with Lewis Pullman since I saw him in Thunderbolts*. Holy moly. Anyways, if you have any ideas, suggestions, or anything else, feel free to text me. Also, I apologize for any grammar mistakes or phrases that might not make sense—English isn’t my first language :3 But I hope you enjoy the story! <3

Masterlist

You and Bob had only been together for a short while, but in that short time, it had become undeniably clear: you were the sexual deviant in the relationship.

Bob was shy. Sweet. Careful. He let you take the lead, followed wherever you pulled him — and you loved pulling. You weren’t even sure what it was that made you this obsessed. Maybe it was how innocent he looked, how goddamn adorable he was, like some lost puppy who didn’t yet know what he was capable of. But that innocence only lit the fuse on something much darker inside you. Something feral. Something insatiable.

He turned you on by simply existing. Breathing. Blinking. You weren’t even sure it was healthy — hell, it probably wasn’t. You were obsessed. Maybe dangerously.

And that obsession? It was making itself known right now.

You sat in the passenger seat, next to Alexei, legs bouncing with barely contained tension. One leg wouldn’t stop trembling — a frantic, pulsing rhythm that mirrored the heat between your thighs. You stared out the window, pretending to care about the trees rushing past, but your thoughts were filthy, soaked, dripping with images of Bob.

You could feel the wetness in your panties, hot and needy. You tried to breathe slow, steady. You tried to focus on the damn mission, or the road, or anything but him. But today? He had ruined you. The way he moved during the mission. Confident but still so damn gentle somehow. The way he wiped blood off his cheek with that dazed little smile, like he didn’t quite realize how beautiful he was. Every word out of his mouth made your skin burn. Every look he gave someone else made you want to straddle him in the middle of a warzone just to remind him who he belonged to.

You were drunk on him. Fully intoxicated. It felt like he’d slipped something into your drink, but it wasn’t drugs. It was just him. And you were high. Addicted. Hopelessly gone.

And poor Bob, sweet oblivious Bob, was just sitting in the backseat, gazing out his own window with a small, content smile. He had no idea what he’d done to you.

He was just proud — proud the mission had gone well, that he hadn’t screwed it up like his overthinking brain kept warning him he would. He’d been so hard on himself lately, so tightly wound, and today he’d actually done everything right. It could be seen in the way his shoulders relaxed, the soft little breath he let out as he leaned against the seat. He looked… happy.

And then there was Alexei.

Beside you in the driver’s seat, the Russian tank of a man was practically buzzing with joy. The mission had been a complete success, and he was riding that high like a rollercoaster. He talked nonstop — cheerful, loud, blissfully unaware that your brain was halfway undressing Bob. Every few minutes he’d turn to you, asking questions or making jokes, but all you could offer in return were occasional grunts or distracted nods. You barely even heard him.

Even his deep, booming voice couldn’t break through the noise in your mind — the breathy moans in your imagination, the fantasy of Bob’s hands on your body, his lips fumbling against yours, the taste of him… God.

You clenched your thighs together. You were completely losing it. And Bob? Still had no idea.

Alexei said something.

You weren’t even sure what. Words hit your ears like static. All you could do was nod slowly, eyes still locked on the glass, watching nothing but your own reflection. The heat between your legs was making you delirious. And when he asked again, louder this time, with a little laugh in his voice, you finally blinked and turned toward him.

“Huh?” you said, your voice sweet and coated in distraction. “Oh. Sorry. What was that?”

He chuckled, completely unfazed. “You okay? You look like you’re about to fall asleep over there.”

You gave him a tired smile, nodded once. “Just… worn out.”

“Da, da, of course,” he said with a shrug, one hand still resting on the wheel. “Long day of shooting bad guys, I get it.”

You turned back toward the window with a sigh of relief. He had no idea. None. And he didn’t ask again — just kept talking, mostly to himself now, rambling stories in that deep, animated voice of his.

Your brain wasn’t listening. Your pulse was drumming in your ears. Every second you spent sitting still next to Alexei felt like torture. Bob was still right behind you. Right there. Close. And still so fucking far.

But then, finally — salvation.

“Okay, okay,” Alexei said suddenly, his voice cutting through the air like a bell. “I need to pee. Like now. I drank three Red Bulls, this is your fault.”

You turned your head quickly as he pulled the car over to the side of the road near a quiet patch of woods. He was already unbuckling.

“I’ll be back in a minute. Try not to get kidnapped while I’m gone, da?” He flashed a grin and climbed out, slamming the door behind him.

The moment it clicked shut, your body reacted like a gunshot had gone off. You moved.

Crawled, practically, over the center console and between the seats — a mess of limbs and heated breath. Your heart was hammering against your ribs, a wild, unstoppable rhythm. Adrenaline and lust surged through you like lightning. You didn’t think. You just went.

Bob looked up at you from the backseat, wide-eyed. His expression was pure innocence, lips parted in surprise, his seatbelt still snug across his chest. He smiled, so sweetly it nearly broke you.

“Hey,” he said, soft and happy. “You okay?”

You weren’t breathing right. But not from the climb. From the heat — that aching, dripping heat that had soaked your panties long before Alexei even stopped the car. You hovered over Bob, panting like you’d just run ten miles, every nerve in your body on fire.

Without a word, you cupped his face. His cheeks were warm under your fingers. So soft. You kissed him harshly.

There was no hesitation. No build-up. Just lips crashing against his, tongues clashing, teeth nearly clicking from the sheer desperation. It was hungry — like you were starving, and he was the only meal that would ever satisfy you.

Bob let out a small noise, almost a whimper of surprise. His eyes were huge, his hands frozen at his sides. He didn’t know what hit him.

“Mm—!” he mumbled, eyebrows lifting as you kissed him deeper. His body tensed, caught between confusion and desire. But then, just as your hands started to slide down his chest, just as your hips shifted closer toward his lap—

He gently grabbed your wrists.

“Wait—wait,” he said, his voice still breathless, barely above a whisper. His eyes were wide, his lips kiss-bruised, his breath shaky. “What’s… what’s going on?”

It felt like you were on a mission. A new objective. One that had to be completed under a strict time limit, in a very, very confined space. And yet the heat between your legs made every second feel like a ticking bomb. Your pussy was on fire, pulsing, aching. You needed Bob. Now.

You stared at him — breathless, pupils blown wide like you were on something. Your chest heaved up and down with every shaky inhale, lips parted, heart racing like it was trying to escape your ribs. You looked like you were about to pounce, like a starving predator cornering the one meal it had left in the world.

Bob, for a moment, just stared back at you. Confused. His sweet, innocent eyes searched yours, trying to figure out what the hell was happening, and then it clicked. You saw it happen. The realization spread across his face like dawn breaking through clouds.

“I need you, Bob,” you whispered — breathless, raw, desperate.

Your fingers flew to his seatbelt, unclipping it with the speed of light. The click of the release echoed in the small space of the car as your other hand already started fumbling at the button of your pants.

“Woah, woah—hey, baby—” he gasped, catching your wrist again, holding it tight. His voice cracked, and when you looked at him, those big, soft puppy eyes nearly melted you.

“Let’s just wait till we’re home, yeah? We’ll have space, we’ll have time—”

“I need you now,” you cut him off, your voice trembling with urgency. It wasn’t just a want. It was a need, primal and overwhelming. You were whining, practically begging, and Bob heard it. Felt it. Your need clung to the air, thick and humid and impossible to ignore.

It killed him, seeing you like that. So turned on, so lost in it. And god, he wanted to give you everything — himself, all of him. But the risks, the space, the fact that his brain was already spiraling…

“But Alexei—” he started.

“We’ll make it,” you snapped. Immediate. Unshakable.

Bob knew right then: he’d lost.

Any argument he might’ve had, any excuse, any delay — you would’ve crushed it in a second. You were in control now, and your body language screamed it. When you felt his grip on your wrist loosen, just slightly — when his fingers eased up, not fully letting go but almost — you wasted no time.

You surged forward.

Your lips found his again, hungrier than before. This time, when you kissed him, he hesitated… but not for long. His lips responded, shaky and unsure, but there. His hands twitched at your sides, like he didn’t know where to put them. But he was kissing you back.

You straddled him.

Your hips moved on instinct — slow at first, grinding against his lap, trying to find some kind of relief. That ache between your legs was maddening, pulsing and wet and unbearable. You could feel the friction through your clothes, just enough to tease you, to scratch at that desperate itch but never quite satisfying it.

Your lips never left his.

You kissed him like you were starving — devouring his mouth with breathy moans and growled whimpers. Every slide of your tongue, every bite of his bottom lip, was fueled by the pent-up tension that had built from the moment the mission ended. You had craved him the entire ride home. And now he was finally under you.

Bob let you take the lead.

His hands came to your hips slowly, almost shyly — as if he still wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch you, even after all the times you’d done this. Even after all the ways you’d shown him how badly you wanted him. That was just Bob. Always gentle. Always asking for permission to touch you.

But there was no time for asking now. You rolled your hips again, harder this time.

Your pussy throbbed with every motion, your clit catching against the ridge of his jeans. The pressure was heavenly — not enough, never enough, but so damn close. You gasped against his lips, hips rocking with more purpose now, grinding down like your life depended on it.

Bob groaned softly beneath you, his breath catching. He gripped your waist tighter, trying to keep up, trying to match your rhythm even though he was clearly overwhelmed.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

With shaking hands, you pushed your pants down — underwear and all — sliding them off in frantic, jerky movements, doing whatever it took to free yourself. The second you did, cool air kissed your soaked folds and you let out a trembling exhale. Your thighs quivered. Your skin buzzed.

Bob swallowed hard.

His eyes, wide, stunned, reverent, dropped to where you were exposed. Even though he’d seen you like this before, been between your legs before, he still blushed. Still. The softest shade of red colored his cheeks, climbing to his ears. It was fucking adorable.

You climbed back onto his lap without hesitation. Naked now. Dripping. You rocked again.

This time, the wet heat of your pussy pressed directly against the thick bulge in his jeans. You moaned — high, breathy, uncontrollable. You could feel him growing harder beneath you with every grind, every stroke of your slick folds against the rough fabric. The heat soaked through his clothes, leaving a visible wet patch between his legs.

You were soaking him.

And part of you wanted to apologize — meant to, really — but there wasn’t time. Not now. All that mattered was the friction, the pressure, the tension mounting inside your core, winding you tighter and tighter until it felt like your entire body was about to snap.

Bob whimpered under you. Soft, needy, broken sounds spilled from his parted lips every time your soaked pussy rubbed against the hardness straining in his jeans.

His head lolled back against the seat, neck exposed, throat working with every swallow. His fingers twitched against your hips — unsure if he should pull you closer or hold on for dear life.

He was trembling. You could feel it. Every inch of him was buzzing — not from fear, but from that unbearable tension that made his breath hitch and his thighs tighten.

He let out the softest, most pitiful moan when you rocked harder, faster, dragging your slick folds across the rough denim. You could practically feel the wetness seeping through — sticky and hot, soaking into the fabric that was still in your way.

It wasn’t enough. Not nearly.

The friction helped. That delicious texture of the seams and fabric pressed against your aching clit made your toes curl, your lips part in a gasp, but it was nothing compared to what you really needed. Not pressure. Not teasing. You needed Bob.

Your hands moved on instinct, desperate and shaky, fumbling at the front of his jeans. Buttons. Zippers. Whatever it took.

Bob watched you, wide-eyed and breathless, chest rising and falling rapidly. His lips were slightly swollen from your kisses, and a thin sheen of sweat glistened along his collarbone. When he saw you struggling, too shaky and eager, he reached down with trembling fingers to help.

Together, you finally got them open. And you didn’t wait a second. You gripped the waistband and pulled everything down — jeans and boxers in one impatient yank. Bob gasped, his whole body tensing as his cock sprang free.

Even though you’d seen him before — touched him, tasted him, had him — the sight still made your breath catch. Made your pussy throb.

His cock was flushed and thick, veins prominent along the sides, the head an angry red and already glistening with precum. He was longer than you’d expect for someone so sweet and nervous — a contradiction to his shy demeanor. The contrast made you wetter.

You stared for a second, only a second, letting the image burn itself into your brain, the way he was twitching under your gaze, his thighs flexing, his hands clutching at the seat, knuckles white. His cheeks were on fire, painted in that telltale pink that spread to the tips of his ears. And yet he didn’t look away.

He looked right at you.

With those soft, pleading eyes, full of need and hesitation and so much goddamn trust.

You couldn’t wait another second. You didn’t want to. Not when your entire body was pulsing, screaming, burning for him. Teasing him had been sweet agony, but now? Now, it was time.

You climbed into his lap again, hands bracing yourself against the seat as your legs straddled him fully. Bob blinked up at you and let out a soft gasp as you leaned in to kiss him.

It was fast, deep and wet. Your breath mingled as you moaned into his mouth, your hips already shifting downward with a desperate urgency. His hands were on your waist again, not guiding, not forcing, just there, because he wanted to feel every second of this.

You reached between your bodies and wrapped your hand around him.

The moment your fingers touched his length, Bob hissed through clenched teeth — his head falling back, throat flexing. “G-god…”

His cock twitched in your hand, already so hard it almost hurt to hold. You gave him one quick stroke — slicking him up with his own precum — before lining yourself up.

And then… you sank down. Slowly. So painfully slowly. At first, just the tip, pushing past your soaked folds, parting you open with a stretch that made your toes curl. You gasped. Bob whimpered. Your bodies both shook.

Your head tilted back as you took more of him in, inch by inch, your pussy squeezing tight, clenching around him with greedy need. Your nails dug into his shoulders, through the fabric of his shirt, and he hissed again, not from pain, but from how intoxicating it felt to be inside you.

“Jesus,” he breathed, barely able to get the word out.

Your walls were hot, wet, and tight — impossibly tight. Every little movement made him twitch inside you, and the way you clenched around him as you adjusted only made things worse. Or better. Depending on who was asking.

You let out a low, shuddering moan, your forehead resting briefly against his. “Shit… you’re so big…”

He swallowed hard, eyes fluttering open to look at you. “Are you—okay?”

You nodded, but your breath caught again as you finally bottomed out, your hips flush against his. You were full. Stretched to your limit, stuffed in the best possible way. A delicious ache settled deep inside your belly.

And Bob was shaking.

His fingers flexed on your hips like he was trying to ground himself. His mouth was parted in a soft, helpless moan, and his eyes fluttered shut again as he whispered, “You feel…you feel so good…”

You just sat there for a moment. Not moving. Just breathing.

Soaking in the heat of him inside you. The stretch. The weight. The sound of his soft, whimpering breaths in your ear. Your walls fluttered around him, adjusting, needing, wanting more.

Your foreheads were pressed together, breaths tangled in the limited space between your mouths, lips brushing but never fully touching, as if both of you were too lost in the moment to close the distance again. You started to move—slowly at first, tentative, like you were just testing the limits of your own restraint… and his.

The slightest motion sent heat blooming deep inside you, your body clenching around him with each careful roll of your hips.

The feeling—so full, so overwhelming—had your breath catching in your throat. Bob whimpered. His fingers tightened ever so slightly on your hips, not enough to guide you, just enough to tell you he was losing control.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging now and then when his tip brushed just right against the tender spot inside you, sending shivers rippling down your spine.

His head tilted back slightly, mouth falling open in a breathy, helpless moan. His cheeks were flushed, his brows drawn together in pure focus, like he was holding onto every ounce of self-control he had left.

And then… you sped up.

Your hips began moving with more urgency—forward and back, faster each time. Your thighs trembled with effort, your breath stuttered, and the slick rhythm of your movements filled the air along with the soft, sweet curses and gasps that escaped both your lips.

Bob’s voice rose in pitch, his hands shaking now as he tried not to dig his fingers too hard into your skin. He bit his lower lip, trying so hard to hold back—but it was written all over his face: he was overwhelmed. Completely, hopelessly overwhelmed by you.

You kept going. You didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You bounced, gasped, pressed your forehead back to his as your bodies slapped together, the sound quickening along with your pace. Beads of sweat gathered at your temples and slid down the curve of your spine, and a few drops dripped onto Bob’s thighs, making him flinch. His whole body was hot, trembling, and so red he looked like he might actually explode.

And just when your strength faltered, just when your body screamed for mercy, Bob took over. His hands clutched your waist and began to move you with him, slow but deep at first, and then—

He hit it. That perfect angle. That one spot inside you that sent you spiraling.

You cried out, your body arching against his, eyes wide and blank as your fingers clawed into his shoulders. He whimpered, nearly choked on his breath, and kept going, his voice breaking with every thrust that pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

You couldn’t stop. Neither of you could. The rhythm was desperate now—quick, reckless, unrelenting. Every sound in the car was either your gasps or his moans, the wet slide of your bodies, the creak of the leather seat beneath you, and the sticky, rhythmic slaps of your hips meeting his.

Bob’s grip on you tightened. His head fell back, lips parted in a strained cry.

“Oh—god, baby, I—” he choked out, his voice cracking with the intensity building inside him.

Your thighs burned, but your body didn’t care. You were too close. You felt him swell inside you, and your walls clenched around him with the same urgency flooding your veins. You were overheating, completely unraveled, every nerve in your body firing like a live wire.

Then it hit.

You cried out, a broken, breathless sound that echoed in the cramped car, as your climax shattered through you, pulling your entire body into spasms. Your hands flew to Bob’s shoulders, nails digging in, your forehead pressing against his as you gasped through wave after wave of white-hot pleasure.

Bob followed.

With a strangled moan and a sharp inhale, he came—deep inside you, twitching, warm, filling you with such intensity it made your toes curl. His breath stuttered in your ear, his voice just a whisper:

“God, I love you—”

His release mixed with yours, wet and messy, dripping onto his thighs, pooling between your bodies, soaking the seat beneath you. You were flushed, sticky, trembling.

And completely spent.

Your limbs gave out. You collapsed forward, your body pressing to his chest as your head buried itself in the crook of his neck. His skin was damp with sweat, but it felt like home. Your heart pounded, breath unsteady, your voice small and weak as you whispered against his skin,

“I’m sorry… I am so sorry…”

Bob’s arms wrapped around you gently. He cradled your head, kissed your temple, and spoke with a tired, affectionate chuckle.

“It’s okay. I promise. You’re okay.”

You stayed there for only a moment before Bob’s body suddenly stiffened.

“Uh—uhh, babe?”

You lifted your head, confused and bleary-eyed, following the direction of his gaze. Outside the window was Alexei, walking back toward the car. Your eyes went wide.

“Shit—”

Panic set in instantly. You scrambled off Bob, legs shaking, heart pounding in your chest like a war drum. Both of you moved with lightning speed, throwing on whatever clothing you could find, still sticky, still flushed. Bob yanked his pants up halfway while you dove over the console back into the passenger seat.

You just barely landed, chest still heaving, hair a mess, when the car door swung open. Alexei climbed in, blissfully unaware.

“Guys! You would not believe what I just saw. I was takin’ a leak, right? And then—bam—hedgehog. Middle of the woods! Just starin’ at me like I interrupted his bathroom time!”

You blinked, heart pounding.

“I… don’t wanna know more,” you said weakly, trying not to sound winded.

Alexei, of course, kept going. “Nah, nah, it was hilarious! Little dude just waddled away. I think we had a moment.”

You burst out laughing. Half in amusement, half in pure relief.

The car started, and you leaned back in your seat, your body still aching, still buzzing. You were exhausted. You were blissful. And yes… you were filled in more ways than one.

Bob sat behind you, quiet, red, still catching his breath—but the smile on his face said it all. He adored you.

And this? This was the best damn mission debrief you’d ever had.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!

I hope you guys enjoyed it! If you have any suggestions, don’t hesitate to let me know! I’d also be super happy for any feedback; whether it’s a reblog, comment, like, or even a follow.

Have a lovely day!

BYEEE🪴🥒

[desideriumwriter]

Metamorphosis | F.W. x Reader

Summary: Fred has been acting differently since he got hurt during the War. You're not sure how many more of his outbursts you can handle.

CW: established relationship, mentions of a head injury, TBIs, migraines, blood, being cut from broken glass, yelling, arguing, crying, not proofread

WC: 4.3k

A/N: now this one is a rollercoaster

based off this request! | f.w. masterlist | navi

Things had been difficult since May.

Voldemort was dead and the war was over. But everyone was dealing with the aftermath.

Things were quiet for a while, people were quiet. Distant but united at the same time. It took a few months for everyone to try and go back to normal.

Now it was November, and Fred was still dealing with the aftermath.

Of course, a head injury from being hit with a spell and a literal stone wall falling on him would have its long-term effects. You’d already read the list over who knows how many times.

Memory loss, light sensitivity, aggression, problems with multitasking, communication issues, irritability, mood swings, forgetfulness, etc. The list went on and on, you hated how long it was. 

You did research on it, listening to his doctors and picking up as many books you could find on head injuries or TBIs.

You even got your hands on some textbooks that muggle medical students used.

George and you took care of Fred after he came back to your shared space above the shop. He spent his first week after being discharged from the hospital at his mums, due to Mollys demands.

Things slowly went back to normal after a few months. Most things.

Shops reopened all along Diagon Alley, including the twins, people felt safe to go out and chat with each other again. 

Life went back to how it was before the war began.

The cold weather was getting harsher and so was Fred. 

You knew that the irritability and mood swings would come along with the injury. You just weren’t expecting it to be so constant.

Fred had his bad days and he had his better days. Today was one of those bad days.

You could tell he was really struggling remembering what was in stock and what needed to be made more of. You sat with him at the counter as he wrote down on a notepad what was needed. Taking notes was one of the things that helped him nowadays.

You saw him look up, the cogs attempting to turn in his head.

“Peruvian Darkness Powder.” You said softly, it was the next thing that needed to be restocked.

“Right. That. Thanks.” He muttered out, crouching over to write it down, his hand shaky and handwriting a bit wobbled.

Frustrated with his shaky hands, he threw the pen down, putting his head in his hands, rubbing his face.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard. I feel like I can’t properly do anything.” He groaned, the annoyance clear in his voice.

“Fred, it's what the symptoms of a-”

“I know it’s a fucking brain injury. I’ve heard it enough goddamn times. You don’t need to spell it out for me.” Fred spat out, ripping his hand from yours and walking past you. That was the fourth time he snapped at you today.

After closing that night, you sat on the bench right outside the shop. Elbows resting on your knees with your head in your hands.

You were really trying here. Trying your best not to get mad at him, to yell and spit at him as he did you.

He was still your Fred that you loved. He was just a bit different now, and that was okay, he was still your Fred.

The door to the shop opened, the silly tune of the charmed bell playing as a tall figure stepped out. Fred stood to the side of you now, his frame blocked out the light shining on you from the street lamps. The only light now being from the inside of the shop, illuminating his and your face once you looked up.

You breathed in deep, closing your eyes for a second, trying to keep any tears from falling. The cold wind wasn’t helping.

“Hi.” He gave you a shamefaced smile.

George had definitely scolded him and told him to apologize once you went outside. It’s not the first time he’s made him do it in recent times.

“Hi.” You sighed.

“I’m- I didn’t mean to snap at you when you were trying to help me with what needed to be restocked, or when you offered to sort the mail.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling small. The feeling had become constant for him now.

“And before both of those, when you snapped at me in your office. Then in front of one of the cashiers.”

“I did?” He said softly, genuinely shocked. You nodded, brows knit together.

“Oh, I didn’t even realize. I don’t even remember that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so harsh.” Fred looked down, having the same expression as a kicked puppy.

“It’s okay, Fred. I know you don’t mean to.” You slowly nodded.

“I’m trying to not be so rude. I’m trying to be better, I promise.”

“I know, Fred. I know.” You sniffled.

The doctors said practicing patterns would help with cognitive ability. Patterning. So stocking the purple and orange mystery boxes in a pattern would be Fred’s practice.

He began to practice different patterns:

Purple. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat.

Then moved onto a bit more strange ones:

Purple. Purple. Orange. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat. 

He was struggling a bit more than usual today, you watched as he did, and it broke your heart.

You sighed as you put your notepad away, pausing writing down the grocery list for now and making your way over to Fred.

You reached out, putting the next correctly colored box on the shelf for him. He grumbled out a ‘thanks’.

“I can do the rest for you. Go give your brain a break.” You breathed out a laugh, trying to be lighthearted as you picked up the large box filled with the remaining mystery boxes to be put away.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”  Fred mumbled out, paying you barely any mind.

“Fred, I can tell your stressed enough just let me-“

“Will you piss off? I said I've got it!” Fred didn’t mean to yell, especially in the middle of a busy store, he was just frustrated. 

Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment and anger due to all the staring eyes of confused customers looking at the both of you.

“Fine, fucking do it yourself then.” You shoved the box into his hands. Walking off, pissed off as you threw off your hat onto the counter.

George murmured your name as you walked by, trying to put a hand on your shoulder, you shoved out his grasp.

You hid away in the back stockroom. George followed, entering a tiny bit after you.

You sat on a wooden box, leaned over with your head in your hands. 

“You know he doesn’t mean it. He got blasted pretty hard, it’s just one of the side effects.” George sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You were so tired of those two words. Side effects. Yes, of course you knew what the side effects and symptoms were, that they wouldn’t be pretty or easy. But you were just so sick of hearing it.

You shrugged, lifting your head up.

“He's frustrated. With himself.” George sat down next to you, intertwining his hands into a ball. “He always feels bad after he gets angry.”

“I know, and I’m trying my best to help him out but it’s like he never fucking wants it. He refuses.”

“He’s never liked help, always wanting to be so damn independent and stubborn.” George let out a weak chuckle and shook his head. “It took him five minutes to accept the money Harry gave us. Even after that he tried to tell Harry he’d give it back if he changed his mind.”

“I remember, I was there.” You smiled a bit to yourself at the memory, Fred was so adamant about Harry keeping the money, or at least most of it.

“Chocolate?” He pulled a small bar off one of the shelves, you shook your head. “It’ll make you feel better.” You persuaded, you let out an amused sigh and took it.

“You stole that line from Lupin.” Unwrapping it and biting off a small chunk.

“Yeah, but it works doesn’t it?” You let out a defeated nod and smile in response, taking another bite.

“He’s not gonna be like this forever. You know that. He’s gotten a lot better since May. Just, his moodiness will stick around for a little bit.”

“I know. I’m just so worried about him. I can’t help it.”

George was at Angelinas for the night. It took him ten minutes to stop worrying and finally go, constantly reminding you if you needed his help with Fred, if Fred starts getting mean, to send him an owl and he’d come back immediately. You shooed him off and assured him Fred and you would be fine, that he should go have a worry-free night with Angelina.

It was going well, you watched a short movie and shared some snacks and cuddles on the couch. It was all going so nicely until you both decided to get changed and go to bed.

You slipped on a night shirt talking to Fred about the movie as he opened the top drawer on the wooden dresser. The one that creaked and occasionally jammed from time to time. 

Tonight was one of those times.

He pulled out a pair of pajama pants from the drawer, his eyebrows knitting together when he pushed the drawer and it barely moved. You looked over and frowned disappointedly.

“It’s stuck again.” You sighed, thinking out loud. 

“I know.” Fred muttered out under his breath, you didn’t catch it.

You watched as he repeatedly tried to push it, it wouldn’t budge.

“It’s just old, maybe tomorrow we could go window shopping for a new one?” You suggested sweetly as he didn’t respond, he just clenched his jaw as he continued trying to close it.

He used a terrifying amount of force as he slammed the drawer shut with one last push, causing the whole thing to ratter. The sudden movement and sound made you jump. You took a step back, Fred noticed. His expression faltered for a moment as his eyes scanned your body language.

“What, are you scared of me or something now?” He muttered, an attitude in his voice.

“No, I never said I was scared of you. You just…”

 “What? I’ve just what?” 

You were so sick of his attitude. You took in a deep breath before speaking.

“You’ve been acting up, you’ve been slamming doors, throwing things down when you’re frustrated, you yell more. At George and I especially. You’re unpredictable.” You let out quickly.

“Unpredictable? I have not been that bad. You’re dramatic.” Fred shot back, he was a bit hurt by your words, yet deep down he knew you were right. His actions had become surprising. But he was too damn stubborn and he was in the middle of a beginning argument, so he wouldn’t admit to it now.

“I’m not, you’re proving your point with how you’re being now. You’re being stubborn and defensive. You get angry and you yell at me. When I’m just trying to help! The doctors said-”

“I don’t give a shit what the fucking doctors told you! Or those stupid books you’ve been wasting your time on!” All this yelling hurt his head. But the words were spilling out his mouth like a waterfall of poison. 

“Have you considered your not being any help? If you really wanted to help you’d let me do shit myself instead of acting like I’m fucking stupid! You wouldn’t be walking on eggshells around me! You’d let me be instead of being a pounding in my head!” His chest heaved, his face slowly being filled with regret as he saw you. Taking a step back with the most painful stare at him, astonishment and hurt written all over your face.

He watched as you brought your arms up around you, holding yourself as if it was a way of shielding yourself from his words.

“Is that really what you think of me?” Your voice went soft. A small crack in your delivery of words as you rubbed your upper arm.

“No! Absolutely not! I just- I’m-” Here comes the sputtered out apologies, the regret filling him up immediately, you just shook your head.

“Forget it, I’m done with this conversation.” You barged out the room. That look never leaving your face, it will haunt him forever.

“Where are you going? I thought you were going to bed?” He called out as you went down the hallway.

“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.” You shouted back, more of a loud mutter really. Fred said your name disappointedly, leaning against the bedroom door frame. You didn’t respond, you didn’t turn around, you made your way to the couch.

He didn’t run after and stop you. Knowing you’d give him the silent treatment and refuse to get in the same bed as him. For tonight only. Hopefully.

Though you tried to muffle and hide your sobs behind your hands, Fred could still hear it all the way from the bedroom. Those pained sharp breaths in that turned into wheezes, the little hiccups and whimpers of sadness you made when you breathed out were far too loud to be hidden.

You cried for two hours until you finally got a grip of yourself. Getting up and going down the hallway, not to get back in bed, but to see if Fred was.

You peeked your head in just enough to see his side of the bed, he was laying on his back peacefully, his eyes puffy. Had he been crying also?

He was relaxed now though, resting. At least he was getting some sleep. You quietly sneaked back to the living room. Lying back down on the couch and using a throw pillow for your head. 

You couldn’t get comfortable, couldn’t keep your eyes shut, couldn’t stop thinking, you couldn’t sleep. You missed him, you really just wanted to be next to him.

By the time the clock ticked to 2AM, you got up, tiptoeing back into the bedroom. Sneaking to your side of the bed, so carefully pulling back the sheets. You moved so carefully, so lightly, so gently as if everything was made of fine china. 

You debated if you should snuggle up to Fred, not wanting to wake him. What if he got annoyed again? You really didn’t want to deal with another conflict.

You carefully scooted over to him anyways, testing your luck. You slowly wrapped your arm around his torso, ever so lightly laying your head on his chest. He began to move and your body immediately tensed up.

His arm hooked around you, circling your waist, the other arm reaching over, his hand softly placed on the side of your head. Your body went limp in happiness. You could start crying again from all the joy you felt in this moment.

This is how you knew Fred hadn’t become a whole other person than the one you knew before the accident. His hands on you, holding onto you so sweetly, just like he used to. There were still those little remnants of his true self hanging around. He was still Fred. He was still your Fred.

You woke up to an empty bed. The sunlight shining down on Freds side of the mattress.

You changed into more presentable clothes, hearing the chatter from downstairs and knowing the shop was open. 

Going downstairs, Fred was nowhere to be seen while George was moving around helping customers and constantly casting spells to organize things.

Owning a joke shop was absolutely not a one man job.

“Where’s Fred?” You asked, looking around as you approached the counter. George was stacking cards. 

“In his office. Another migraine.” He tucked in his lips, seemingly annoyed.

“Oh. Well, I’m gonna go out, probably window shop. Do you need anything?”

“Could you get some cabbage? And a few more quills and ink? We’re running low.” He said, swiveling his way out from behind the counter.

You may have stayed out longer than you meant to.

Thinking you’d be back before five, you got home at nearly eight instead.

You did some looking around in local furniture shops, and you picked up what George asked for. You mostly just walked around the quieter streets, needing to get away from all the noise.

By the time you got back it was a bit dark outside and there was a closed sign on the shop door. You unlocked and locked it quickly, moving upstairs tiredly.

The living room light was turned off, the moonlight from outside being the only thing that made the room somewhat visible. Fred was sitting on the couch.

“Hey.” You spoke softly. 

“Hi.”

“Where’d George go?”

“He stopped by Angelina’s for dinner.” He said blankly. Everything felt so awkward.

“Oh. Have you eaten?” You asked as you set down the bags of supplies.

“Yeah, I had some leftovers.”

“Okay, well, what’re you doing in the dark? Get some light in here.” You giggled as you flipped up the light switch, overhead light brightening up the room.

Fred quickly scrunched his eyes closed with a pained expression, he put a hand up to shadow his face.

Fuck. Light sensitivity. He was already dealing with a migraine, that’s why he was in the dark, and you turning on the light made it much more intense.

“Shit. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” You blurted out as you hit the switch down, the room going darker again.

“Here, I’ll- I’ll get you a glass of water.” You sputtered out, running over to the kitchen sink and grabbing a glass, filling it up with cold water from the tap.

“No, you don’t have to.” Fred muttered out.

“Please, it’ll help. Just let me help.” You pleaded as you ran back over to the couch, sitting down and holding the glass towards him. He denied it again.

“Fred, just drink-“

“I told you! No!” He shouted, pushing your hand away.

The glass slipped out of your grasp. Hitting the floor and cracked into pieces, somewhere in the impact a small shard hit your lower leg. Nothing serious, it could be quickly closed up with a spell, but it was bleeding heavily already.

Fred realized what had happened once you felt the stung and winced, holding a hand over your small injury, crimson staining your hand and dripping onto your sock.

“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He panicked as he straightened up, patting his sides for his wand, he had left it in his office. He saw yours on the coffee table.

“Here, let me fix-” He reached one hand towards your wand, the other laying on your shoulder.

“Don’t. It’s fine, I’ve got it.” You said as you reached across, grabbing your wand and leaned your shoulder away from his touch.

His stomach twisted, the guilt was eating him up. He fidgeted with his fingers, not knowing what to do with his hands now that you refused his touch and his help.

You said a quick spell, the cut swiftly closing, skin looking unharmed and the only evidence of what happened being the remnants of drying blood on your leg and hand.

“I’m gonna go wash off my hands.” You said so quietly, almost a whisper. Fred stayed silent as he watched you get up and walk away, he wanted to cry.

You returned to the living room with a packed suitcase, quickly walking past Fred on the couch and to the chimney. His eyes stayed glued on you the entire time. You didn’t look at him.

“You’re leaving?” Freds brows knit together in a sad way, he sat up straight from his spot on the couch.

“Yeah. Not for long. I’ll be back.” You spoke, back facing him as you put down your small suitcase.

“Where?”

“A friends place. For a few days.” You didn’t tell him who, he would most likely send letters apologizing.

George was the one who suggested it surprisingly. Once he came home as you were washing off the blood, he told you to go take a few days to yourself.

“No offense to you, you’ve been doing great. But I’ve lived with him for nearly twenty-six years. I know how to deal with him when he’s mad.” He held your shoulders.

“I know how to deal with him too, you know.” 

“Of course I do. But I know you’re worn out as well. You need to take some care of yourself. Focus on you for a few days.” You really didn’t want to agree with George on that, it felt rude to do it. There was really no good way of saying he was wearing you down.

“I’m sorry.” Fred spoke out.

“I know, Fred.” You let out a heavy breath. “I’m not mad at you. I think we should take a break from each other.” You tried not to let your voice wobble.

“You don’t mean a break up, right?” He stood up from the couch.

“No. Of course not.” You finally turned around, looking at his gloomy face. “We just need to spend some time apart, just for a day or so. Okay?” You kept your voice soft and nurturing, hoping it would hide the way your own words were breaking your heart.

"Can I just get a hug before you leave? Please?" Fred took a few steps closer, his steps cautious. You closed your eyes and nodded.

You didn’t want to look at him for too long, both of your faces were threatening to deteriorate into tears, and you couldn’t stand to see it.

He pulled you into him nicely, hands slowly and carefully wrapping around you like you would crack if he moved the wrong way.

“I’m sorry I’m like this. I love you.” He said softly, sounding like it was a plea for you to stay.

“I know.” You mumbled into his chest.

Fred’s injury didn’t bother you. The forgetfulness of struggles with certain things didn’t bother you, you didn’t care if he struggled to keep track with things. 

It was just his anger. His outbursts. His shouting. That’s what bothered you, it was nothing like him. Sure, he’s definitely gotten moody or stubborn or annoyed before like during Quidditch matches back at Hogwarts or when a much needed shipment arrived late at the shop.

But you’ve rarely seen him truly mad, yell like he does now, the only time you can remember him like that is when he had to be held back from helping George and Harry beat up Malfoy after a match in his seventh year.

“I still love him, of fucking course I do. But he’s changed so much. it’s like,” You stopped, clenching your jaw and trying your best trying to keep tears from returning. “It’s like sometimes I look at him, and he’s a ghost, he’s a completely different man I fell in love with all those years ago.”

“You’ve changed too.” Alicia commented, “You’re not as much of a hermit as you used to be.” She joked, poking you.

“Oh piss off.” You let out a breathy chuckle, face falling soon after. “I’m scared. What if he stays like this forever?” You whispered out, a small crack in your voice.

“He won’t. You told me already, there’s still that cheeky little Fred that you’ve always know still in him. He’s getting better day by day.” She tilted her head. “And fuck it. Even if he doesn’t, even if it takes a while, you gotta grow with him.” You looked at her, puzzled expression on your face.

“If you don’t grow with him, if you aren’t willing to go through that, then what in the hell are you doing?” She shrugged, laying back in her chair. “You’ve gone through these shitty times with him before, right? And you both made it through. What makes you worried you won’t be able to do it again?” 

Alicia was right. You’ve gone through rough patches with him and made it out just fine. Casual disagreements, arguments and fights, yet you always made up. Leaving those arguments in the past and loving each other in the present.

“You staying another night?” Alicia asked you, taking a sip from her glass.

“No, I think I’ll go back. I’ll send an owl and tell them before I go.”

Once the green flames subsided and you stepped out of the chimney, dusting off your clothes. Fred came running into the room, a bouquet of all the flowers in his hand.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Feeling alright today?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

God, you hated the awkward tension in the air. It felt like this every time you had a conversation.

“That’s good. Uh, these are for you.” He stuck out the bouquet nervously, hand trembling. You put down your suitcase and stepped closer. A small noise of adoration left as you looked at the flowers, it was all your favorites.

“I may not be able to remember much. But I remembered these were always your favorite.” He let out an awkward laugh.

The last time you told him what flowers you liked was in year five. You took the bouquet from him with hesitant hands, surprised by the gift. Fred swallowed his anxiety before he began to speak again.

“I didn’t mean to be so rude. I just get so frustrated with myself, I don’t want to act like that anymore. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t take it out on you, you didn’t deserve it.” He moved to cup his hands around your face, bringing your teary eyes to meet his.

“I promise you I’m going to be better. I swear on everything. I will be better.” He gave you a sweet kiss on your forehead, then pulled you into a hug. 

You held on tightly to his torso, turning the flowers away to keep them from being crushed.

“I love you.” You said into his sweater, tears beginning to fall.

“I love you too. So much.”

tell me what you thought! <3

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Hopefully it’s not too much of an ick for you, but if you’re up to it, would you ever write Ford eating Reader out on their period?

not the disaster you think it is

a/n: hey love, no ofc it's not, im absolutely ok with the whole period thing. i meant to post this a few days ago, but it’s like i forgot how to write or more like i hated every sentence i wrote and couldn’t get past it. anyway, hope this mood leaves me soon. but here we are!! back to Ford being a total freak, as usual, who’s absolutely head over heels for his partner <3 enjoy, i guess?? and thank my period for the delay :/

tags: Ford x reader, nsfw, fluff and smut, gentle sex to rough, emotional rollercoaster for reader, vaginal sex, period sex, oral sex (f receiving), i guess blood play, embarrassment, a lil bit of hurt/comfort, overthinking, established relationship

you think you're about to die of embarrassment, but Ford’s just getting started because sometimes, the worst-case scenario ends up being the best one.

finally, finally you and Ford are alone. do you even remember the last time this happened? no Stan grumbling at the tv, no Dipper hovering around with a thousand questions, no Mabel dragging you away to watch Waddles collapse in the dirt, no Soos excitedly telling you about some strange new creak in the shack’s walls that sounds exactly like a “genuine ghost noise, dude.” no distractions.

what did matter was that you and Stanford were alone, and after the morning you had, there was absolutely no way you weren’t going to fuck the life out of your man.

and god, it’s not like you hadn’t been thinking about it since the second he stepped out of your bedroom looking like that. at first, the missed period had you panicking, your mind spiraling into absolute worst scenarios, but then you chalked it up to stress, shrugged it off, and forgot about it until you saw him. jesus, he didn’t even have to try. you’d made him wear that outfit though, because it was criminal to let him sweat through another goddamn trench coat when summer in gravity falls was like hell had opened its gates and breathed directly onto this weird town, and you weren’t about to let him die of heatstroke just because he was too stubborn to dress appropriately. so you gave him something lighter. and fuck, that was a mistake, because the second you saw him in it, sleeves pushed up, collar slightly undone, his forearms out, his hands, you swore you nearly ovulated again.

but the worst part was when he came running into the shack with those big, dirty, calloused hands holding some kind of tiny, wriggling anomaly he and Dipper had just dug up in the woods, showing it off to everyone like it was nothing, like it wasn’t the sexiest fucking thing you’ve ever seen. all sweaty and flushed from the sun, completely unaware of how fucking delicious he looked, rambling excitedly to Stan, Soos, and Mabel while you had to physically restrain yourself. and you did. you were so good all morning, sitting there, waiting, swallowing down every desperate little urge watching your nerdy man gesturing with those dirty hands as he explained something.

and all you could think was, “i want to eat this man alive.” god, it was unfair how much you wanted him today.

thankfully, Stanley eventually had enough of the science talk. he let out a loud, suffering groan and declared, “that’s it, i’m getting out of here before i have to listen to one more goddamn sentence about anomalous worm lizards or whatever, Soos, Mabel, Dipper, we’re going fishing.”

so of course, there was absolutely no way you weren’t going to take advantage of this moment! it was so rare that you got Ford all to yourself like this that the second the door closed behind Stan, you practically pounced on him.

you had Ford laid out beneath you, his wide back against the mattress, your hands braced on his scarred chest as you rode him like your life depended on it.

and god, you were hungry for it, so desperate. the morning had wound you up so tightly that by the time you finally got him beneath you and finally sank down onto his cock, it felt like release, but still nowhere near enough.

you bounced on him, panting and whimpering, rolling your hips, feeling sweat beading on your skin because it was still summer. and there's no fan strong enough to save either of you. it must be at least 90°F, around 32°C, but it feels even worse and hotter when you have sex. besides, you were the one putting in all the work as your Ford, your good boy, was lying there, being so good for you. looking up at you with little hearts in his eyes, huge hands gripping your waist, trying so hard not to buck up into you too soon because he was such a gentleman even during sex. he wasn’t controlling the pace, you were, and god, he was letting you use him like a toy, groaning so beautifully every time your pussy clenched around him.

yeah, you’d definitely need a cold shower after this, but right now you couldn’t care less. little did you know, though, the shower won’t just be for the sweat.

but that’s a problem for future you.

now, however, your legs start to give out first. despite the pleasure that’s still flooding you in blinding waves, your poor thighs are already trembling and the rhythm getting uneven as you desperately try to keep fucking yourself on him. Ford notices it, even flushed, messy, drowning in you, he watches you like you’re the fucking answer to every equation he's ever scribbled in his journals.

“easy, sweetheart,” he says gently, and then his arms are around you, flipping you over with no effort at all, manhandling you so tenderly. you barely get a second to breathe before he pushes in again from behind and your mouth falls open in a cry. that's deeper. so much deeper like this, and your whole body jolts forward with a ragged moan. “let me take care of you now.”

“Ford, fuck, Ford!” his name spills from you in a gasp just as he starts thrusting, making your toes curl, fingers claw at the sheets, and he just leans over you, grinding into you, murmuring against your ear.

“just like that, you’re doing so good for me,” he groans, kissing your shoulder, “so tight, just keep taking it, beautiful, you’re perfect like this.” Ford rolls his hips, filling you to the brim, keeping you pressed flat against the sheets with nothing to do but take it.

every time he thrusts in, you feel yourself get wetter, making it so easy for him to move and keep grinding into that soft, sensitive spot inside you until you’re crying out, clutching at the pillows. and that’s it. your body breaks as you cum again, shuddering under him as your body jerks with each deep thrust. Ford holds your hips in place while the sheets muffle your screams. he knows your body, god, he knows exactly how to hit those aching spots and how to angle just right, how to drag every last sob and tremble from you until you’re nothing but a pathetic overstimulated mess in his arms. and damn it, Ford loves you like that, clutching at the blankets, so fucked out and trembling, all because of him.

and still, it’s not enough for him. hasn’t been enough all week. you feel it in the way he doesn’t even stop to let you breathe, doesn’t even let you sink down into the afterglow. instead, Ford carefully pulls you onto your back, kissing your jaw and neck, and keeps going, pushing deep into your sore, overstimulated pussy like he’s possessed.

“Ford, s-sensitive, oh god—“

“cant stop,” he pants, hunched over you, sweat dripping down his temple, “just one more. i missed you so much, just let me, i missed you, i missed this,“ he’s so deep again, making your soft walls flutter again, stretched wide around him, and his back, oh fuck, your nails drag down his skin and leave bright red scratches over old scars, painting your love right into his skin as you cry out beneath him.

“so beautiful, darling, so good for me. love you so much, l-love you, mhmm.” Ford's words make you ache in a way you can’t describe and your whole body feel like warm honey, melting under his touch. you pull him closer, wrap your arms around his neck, bury your face against his shoulder as he keeps pounding into you, making love to you like he means it, practically crushing you with his weight.

your thighs tighten where they frame his waist and you're literally clinging to him. his cock slides over your sensitive walls and you still feel so tight, despite how well he worked you open with his fingers before this and the slick mess between your legs. you're drenched, and he knows it by the way his cock nudges inside you so smoothly as you gasp each time he presses flush against your cervix.

“mmh, i love you so damn much, you feel so good, holy moses, taking me so well.” Ford's voice is husky as he kisses you between words, pressing his mouth against your temple, your cheek, your lips and sweet heavens, you’re drowning in it, in him, in the way he praises you like you’re the best thing to ever happen to him. and you know you are, because nobody’s ever looked at you the way Ford does.

”fuck, baby—“ you sob, clinging to his shoulders once he finally slows down just enough for your mind to stop spinning. “you looked so fucking hot this morning,” you whimper, biting your lip, “i wanted you, wanted you so bad, you looked so fucking good today, i couldn’t stop staring—“

Ford’s smile is all soft, even as his cock still pulses inside you. “you should’ve told me, gorgeous, m-maybe we’d have done something about it sooner.”

“i couldn’t, there were people, you know we can't when everyone's at home.”

Ford kisses you and whispers against your mouth, continuing moving inside you. “now you can, love, now it’s just us, be as loud as you want, please. . . but so?” he asks again, “tell me, was it the shirt? or the forearms?”

“shut up—shut up—”

“no, no, i’m serious,” he chuckles breathlessly, slightly changing the angle, “you’re adorable when you’re flustered. i wanted you too,” Ford says suddenly, a little softer. “it was horrible not being able to touch you all week. i kept thinking about you, sweet—“

you interrupt him by kissing him for that, you just have to because you can never get enough of his lips. you drag him down into a kiss and breathe him in like you’ll die without it. and Ford groans right into your mouth, he’s louder this time, letting out sharp grunts and drawn-out moans, that gorgeous fucking voice of his breaking with each thrust. you love it. god, you love when he’s vocal, when he lets go and stops trying to hold himself back, when you can hear how good you make him feel and how much he's enjoying this too.

then, Ford's rhythm gets rougher as he straightens his back, holding himself up as he growls out, “sweetheart, can i go rougher?”

you gasp, nodding fast. “Ford, we talked about this, y-you don’t have to ask, just take what you need, please”

“thank you, my love, thank you, you don’t know how much i needed that.” his voice breaks on it, so full of need it makes your pussy throb.

he grabs your waist, lifts you off the bed slightly, holding you there suspended in the air as he slams into your soaked fluttering pussy again and again. and your cunt takes it like she was made for him, squelching wet and hot around his cock as he uses you like a fucking fleshlight, fast enough the bed is creaking beneath you, the headboard knocking.

“Ford— oh, god!” your head tilts back, pleasure spiking, spreading through your whole body. you love this. you love him when he’s this desperate and rough, that means he needed you really damn bad. “yes! oh, my god, yes!” you arch your back automatically, body tensing as he buries himself to the hilt, his cock brushing your cervix over and over, making your thighs spasm and your toes curl. tears suddenly stinging your eyes.

but Ford keeps pounding into you, determined to bring you to your third orgasm now, and it’s all too much, making your clit throb. your brows knit together in that desperate needy expression he lives for, pretty lips parted, chin wet from drool, cheeks flushed and streaked with tears.

“mine, you're mine,” you hear Ford through your own screams and just nod eagerly.

you swear, nothing feels better than Ford's thick cock stretching you like that, fucking into you like crazy, building the sweetest pressure in your gut. filthy sounds echoing off the walls of the room and god, you’re such a mess, sobbing, literally sobbing, with tears leaking down your temples. eyes glossy and unfocused, every inch of your body betrays you, twitching and fluttering around him like you were made to be filled like this.

“so wet for me,” he grits out, “god, listen to you, soaking me.”

you can’t even answer because you’re just moaning as he keeps thrusting roughly and deep into you like you’re just a toy in his hands. his toy. your hands scrabble helplessly at the sheets as your body climbs toward another high.

oh, you think, dazed, this is actually filthy.

you’re wet, too wet. not that it’s ever an issue with Ford because he gets you soaked, dripping and ruined just from his voice alone everyday. the sounds in the room are straight-up filthy, like something out of a fucking porn. slick, lewd noises every time he thrusts in, your cunt welcoming him, spreading your arousal everywhere.

the sheets beneath you are absolutely ruined and your thighs feel sticky and messy.

Ford has to feel it too, how effortlessly he slides in and out, how fucking easy your wet pussy swallows him every time. and he doesn’t stop. your head’s a haze of pleasure, but somewhere, deep in the rational part of your mind, a little warning bell rings and you hate it.

okay, let's think then. you’re wet, and that’s good, but something feels weirdly weird. you feel you're leaking like a damn waterfall, it gets too warm down there too. your moans taper off slightly, not enough for Ford to notice yet, but you’re thinking too much now, caught in a spiral of why is it so much and why does it feel different. your period is one week late. couldn’t be, right? right. . .

just in that moment Ford slides out and you almost yelp from the loss, but he presses the thick head of his cock against your aching clit, rubbing slow, teasing you like he knows you love. you barely suppress a whimper, melting in this feeling, but before he can push back in you open your eyes and whisper.

“Ford, stop.” you feel your stomach twist with nausea before you even look down.

but that makes him freeze immediately. “what? what happened? did i hurt you?” his voice sounds hoarse from all the moans and groans, but concerned still. he sits back on his heels, wide-eyed, hands hovering over your hips.

ignoring his questions and gathering your strength, you look down and there it is.

blood. a lot of it. smeared on his cock, slick on your inner thighs, staining the sheets beneath you.

“oh my god,“ you gasp. no. no, no, no, no. you’re about to fucking die.

Ford follows your gaze, sees the red, and panics. “holy multiverse! are you okay?? did i— was i too rough? fuck, sweetheart, i’m so sorry,“ he looks like he’s about to pass out from guilt, already reaching for you, checking you over like you’re injured.

“no, Ford, it’s not that, i—“ you squeeze your eyes shut, heat crawling up your face. embarrassment punches through you like a fucking bullet. your throat tightens and you barely get the next words out of yourself. “it’s, uh, my period.”

yeah, your period that just ambushed you, right in the middle of the most intense sex you've had in a month, and of course, it would happen now. during the one time you feel gorgeous, needed, good, loved and craved by your man.

silence. fucking silence. your worst fear is coming true now. you can’t even look at him. your hands tremble as you try to close your legs to hide yourself from this fucking shame, but Stanford who's still between them, doesn’t budge.

you’re bracing for it. for disgust, for Ford to pull away, wrinkle his nose and be mad or scold you or run to the shower or something—

“oh. well, that makes sense.”

your eyes snap open. “. . .what?”

Ford’s face softens. “considering the amount of blood that comes out during your period, i'd guess your cycle kicked in just as your uterus was having those strong contractions during climax. its. . . fascinating, really. i mean, maybe the orgasm actually triggered the bleeding? what do you think?“

“Ford, let’s NOT.”

he pauses and smiles. “oh. right. sorry, sorry.”

you exhale shakily, rubbing at your face. “god, this is so embarrassing.”

“why?” Ford frowns.

“why?? Ford, i literally just ruined everything. i got you all dirty and the sheets and— fuck, im so sorry! this is disgusting—“

through all your panicked monologue, you dont even notice Ford looking at you like wants to eat you alive.

your body is still sensitive, but the shame sits heavier than the pleasure now. you don’t even want to look at him. god, you were just bouncing on his cock, losing your mind on him, moaning into the mattress like a fucking animal and now you’re bleeding? how humiliating.

“anyways, this is—“

“not a big deal,” Ford finishes for you. “you're overthinking.”

you glare at him. “of course i'm overthinking, Ford. i just ruined—“

”ruined? is that what you think you did?”

“well, yeah, obviously.”

“sweetheart,” he moves closer, “why do you think that?”

“b-because sex is over now?” you flail an arm vaguely at the mess beneath you. ”we can't just—“

“sex is over?” he interrupts again, tilting his head, genuinely perplexed. because truly, he doesn’t understand the concept.

“uh. yeah. i mean, obviously? normal men wouldn’t want to keep going after.“

Ford’s expression tightens. “‘normal men’? darling, if you wanted a normal man, you wouldn’t be with a virgin who hops dimensions and gets annoyed by bad grammar.”

you stare, feeling the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from sheer humiliation. “so, you’re not mad you mean? or disgusted?”

“honey, there's nothing in your body that could make me mad or disgusted.” Ford huffs, wiping a smudge of blood off your thigh like it’s nothing but a wine spill.

and you want to believe him, you do, but god, your thoughts are spiraling again. he didn’t even get to finish, because you ruined everything. sheets soaked, mood killed, you were so close and now it’s all gone. and all of that is because of you.

“i still ruined it.” you admit and hate how ashamed you sound. “it was so good and now it’s just—“

“but darling,” Ford cuts in. he leans down, kisses your hipbone, tongue brushing so hot and tender it makes you twitch. “who said anything was ruined?”

“i mean, we can’t exactly keep going.”

“but why? who says i was ever going to stop?”

and it hits you. he hasn’t even finished. not once, he’d been so deep in you, feeling your pussy gripping him like a fucking vice that he didn’t even bother to chase his own orgasm.

you gape. “wait. you’re still—“

“hard?” he chuckles. “yes. painfully.”

“and you’re not mad?” you ask the same thing again, confused.

Ford kisses the inside of your knee. “the only thing i’m mad about is that i didn’t get to make you cum with my mouth first. you think I could be satisfied knowing I haven't tasted you yet?”

“wait, wait, wait, im—“ you start to panic when you realize what Ford is hinting at.

but it's too late because he's already gripping your thighs and spreading you open.

“you know we don't have to—“

”yes, we do,” he murmurs, “yes, we absolutely do.”

honestly, if you think Ford’s gonna let a little blood stop him from eating the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen, sweetheart. . .please, you clearly don’t know how fucked in the head this man is for you.

because after a week of not having your body beneath him, this is nothing.

“but—“

“sweetheart, ive been waiting a week. a week. let me take care of you.”

god. this man, fuck. you want to be mad. really, you do. you want to groan, roll your eyes, throw a pillow at him for ruining your chance to bury your shame in silence. but the worst part is that he’s smiling in that awful, devastatingly gentle smile.

and oh fuck, you cry out, trying to twist away because you dont want to make him uncomfortable or anything, but Ford's strong arms are caging you in. “i love this pussy. love how wet you get for me. i don’t care if you’re bleeding, i care that you’re not done yet, sweetheart.”

“you’re insane,” you whisper, biting your lip.

“for you?” Ford grins against your skin, “absolutely.” and then he’s already lowering, teasing at your folds, unbothered by the mess, more turned on by your shuddering and beautiful whimpers. your blood is barely noticeable compared to the way you leak for him, messy and dripping still, your clit so swollen and sensitive, you jerk as soon as he touches it.

Ford's tongue slides against you like velvet, then circles, and flattens.

fuck, he’s good.

he groans when you grind into his mouth, and the sound rumbles right through your gut. your hips buck, and he holds you firm.

shit. you should’ve never taught him. you should’ve kept the knowledge to yourself, never guided his eager mouth and shown him the way your body sang under just the right pressure, never taken his trembling fingers in yours and said “no, baby, slower, feel how sensitive i am here?”

because now, Ford is using it against you.

he starts slow, tracing that familiar path from the crease of your thigh up to your clit, breathing you in like it’s a drug he’s been deprived of.

you want to scream, cry and curl up into nothing and vanish forever, but Ford is licking right over the spot that makes your legs kick, and you swear he smiles when you do. because he knows your body. knows your pulse, rhythm and your shame and he’s pulling it apart with every flick of his fucking tongue.

“so sensitive already,” his breath ghosting over your drenched folds. “you really thought we were done?”

you don’t even know what he’s doing anymore, only that it’s working. it’s so working. too well, in fact, because you’re not even thinking straight, brain full of static and white noise and the obscene sounds of his mouth devouring your pussy like he’s making up for every lost second of the week you went without.

and he has improved. god, he’s weaponized everything you taught him. the way you showed him to suck your clit gently, not too much, just a little pressure like he’s savoring it. . . yeah. he remembers. that damn freak

each groan against your clit is like a vibration in your bones, each sigh filled with hunger and fucking adoration, because you gave this to him. you taught him this. you trusted him to touch you, to taste you, so now you pay for this. your pussy’s so sensitive, sore from earlier, still fluttering and tender, but he doesn’t stop.

“F—Ford, please—“ you don’t even know what you’re begging for. mercy? more? less? it all blends together. hearing your weak voice, Ford smirks against your pussy and then moans as if the taste of your blood and arousal is some forbidden elixir that gets him drunk on you. “s’too good,” you cry out. “how are you this good now? you damn nerd, oh my god—“

you can't finish your sentence because he flattens his tongue and licks again, so slow, making a long drag from your entrance up to your clit that makes your hips jerk and your hands fist the sheets.

and fuck, fuck, he remembers this too, how you explained him how to circle his tongue just beneath the clit too, where your nerves are raw and sensitive, and now he’s there, swirling soft, teasing spirals that make you shudder down to the bone.

and then he sucks your clit deep into his mouth again, groans, sending vibrations through your entire pelvis, making your back arch and your legs twitch around his head.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” Ford's voice all fucked-up and hungry, and god he sounds ruined, “give it to me.”

his thick fingers slide in without resistance, two of them, slow and fucking perfectly angled, crooking just right, the pads of them brushing over your sweetest sensitive spot in lazy pulses. he’s stroking you like he’s trying to coax something out, and you’re so soaked that the sounds are filthy, wet and too obscene.

you whimper, trying to close your legs but his wide shoulders are there, unyielding, pinning you open.

Ford kisses your clit like he’s in love with it, and you feel your orgasm coming like a storm on the horizon, making your thighs shake violently around his head.

but what kills you is knowing that this is your fault because you made him this good. you trained him. shaped him. built him into this monster of a man who eats you out like you’re the center of the universe.

and now he’s fucking feral with it

you cry out, too breathless, feeling your cunt pulsing around his fingers now that he added third one, your clit is so swollen under his mouth. “you’re so perfect,” Ford pants, grinding his mouth into you, his fingers pumping harder now, “god, you’re gonna cum, aren’t you? let me have it, sweetheart, give me that pretty orgasm.”

holy shit, you cum so fucking hard your body locks up, hips lifting off the bed, thighs clamping around his head, but that doesn't stop him. not even when you sob and beg, not even when your clit twitches and your hands shake, he’s still licking through it, swallowing you down. your pussy squeezes his fingers and leaks, your whole body folds inward.

but Ford holds you through it, tongue slowing to soft kisses, his fingers gently easing out.

“that’s my girl,” he breathes, smiling silly, chin wet with you.

“never knew you were such a freak, Ford,” you breathe, giggling through your tears, your fingers tightening in his silver hair. “i created a monster.”

Ford looks up, brown eyes glassy. “darling, didn’t you read my journals?”

you laugh breathlessly, still dizzy from your orgasm, but then it falters because your gaze flicks down to the blood. the mess. the ruined sheets and the guilt curling hot and tight in your chest.

“do you still love me?” you ask, unexpectedly even for yourself. “after all this. . . i ruined the bed and—“

Ford's heart breaks at that. he’s kissing your thighs before you can even blink, holding your hips like you’re something fragile. “hey. hey. look at me, sweetheart. you didn’t ruin a thing. you gave me you. and i’ve never wanted anything more. blood, tears, whatever. . . you think any of that changes how much i love you?”

you don't even notice how quickly a smile creeps onto your tear-stained face.

“you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever touched, and i’d ruin a thousand sheets for just one more taste of you.” and that’s what love sounds like in Ford’s voice.

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[We went on shopping (it didn’t go well)] - TF141*F!Reader

not a chapter actually just a rambling, it's kinda messy and not my style imo, pls feel free to skip this etc. might rewrite this shit when I have time since I’m busy with my job these days and I just accidentally sliced my thumb open making it difficult to type, hence not much to provide sorry :( and the weird stranger incident in the latter part did happen irl damn it’s creepy af, but I was the one telling them to fuck off tho (they harassing my cute friend RAGE)

Summary: You sigh when it's the fifth time someone fights in your poor tea shop this month. You just open it two months ago, in an area ruled by mafia called '141'. Maybe you should find their boss and give them money or what to stop the bullshit keeps happening in your shop. (well, here they come)

Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

After your car graduates from its car life in about a week, congratulations, the poor shelf accompanies you since your college life is finally undone, fragments spreading across the floor making you shout Mama and mourn for its graduation.

You don’t have a car right now, so when Gaz offers to drive you to buy a new shelf, you agree to his suggestion without a second thought. Yet when the day comes and you open the car door, only to be greeted by the wide smile of Soap and Gaz, you almost slam the door close in reflex.

“Okay, but why do all of you come together? this isn’t an elementary school field trip!” You gawk at them when you squeeze in the car.

“Sounds fun, how can ye not tell us?” 

“Gaz I thought you could seal your lips!”

“Sorry love, Ghost exchanged it with some goodies.”

Oh yeah, Ghost is sitting in the driver’s seat.

Wait, he’s sitting in the driver's seat?

“Goddamnit—“ Your scream dies out on your tongue when said man puts his foot down. 

Ghost does a good job at providing you the same experience as riding a rollercoaster, glad that you didn’t throw up in the car and arrived at the warehouse without dying. If he's your Uber driver, you will give him five stars and block the hell out of him. 

You hop out of the car and walk to the door. As the automatic door parts after sensing your presence, you feel much better when the cold air of the store. Nice a.c. is one of the important features of a nice store, and you already built a fondness for the warehouse with how refreshing the chilly air is inside.

The first area welcoming you is food. Not bad, 6 out of 10 if it needs to be precise. Gaz pushes the cart and follows you as you saunter to the aisle with cereals.

“Oh, they have my favorite brand.” You murmur to him as your eyes travel across the price tag.

Wait, you must still be dizzy because no way it’s 30% cheaper than the same one you just bought from the supermarket.

“Kyle, it says it’s 3 pounds, right?!” pointing at the tag, your voice raises a whole eight-tone with excitement.

“Yes?”

“Good.”

5 boxes of cereal are added to the cart. 

Actually, 9.9 out of 10 for this place, you fix the evaluation as you watch Gaz putting some of those ten bags of chocolate Ghost and Soap dump into the cart back on the shelf, and as a little revenge to Gaz for letting the other two men join the trip without you knowing, you choose to turn a blind eye when you spot Ghost sneaking all of them back in the cart.

Not forgetting the primary goal for today, you go straight to the furniture area after letting Soap throw five packs of gummy bears in the cart and convincing Ghost not to get a cup of tea from the random tea shop. You’ll make a much better one for him when you get home — you coo when he stares at you with unhappy eyes not covered by the mask, glad that he seems to accept the idea, so he huffs and lets you drag him and Soap out of the food area.

“You should buy this.” 

“Ghost I don’t need a green shelf in my shop thank you.”

“Then ye should buy this bonnie!”

“That’s not even a goddamn shelf, Soap.”

“How about this?” 

Your eyes brighten up when Gaz shows you a wooden shelf, it’s stripped-back, with not many decorations, but it surely will fit wonderfully into your store with its aesthetic vibes and high functionality, thus you pick up your phone to type down the product number immediately.

“Oh my, Kyle, you’re the best.”

and you’re too busy typing the numbers down that you don’t notice him shooting the others a taunt of victory.

The last area before the cashier’s counter sets a bookshop. You don’t plan on buying books, but you indeed need to go to the bathroom, so you dismiss yourself and tell them to look around before you’re done.

Why are the bathrooms always hidden in a bloody long hallway? What if someone can’t hold back during their way? Your footsteps echo through the corridor as your mind starts hitting you with a fresh and unnecessary question, glad that you aren’t that urgent though, so you’re able to get to the destination without wetting your pants.

Washing your hands, you step back to the hallway again, but you yelp in surprise when you bump into someone.

“Sorry!” You nod at the man and start heading back to the bookstore.

but it’s weird, the man you just bump into walks so close to you, that you suddenly realize he’s just a step behind you.

Hey, don’t panic, might just coincidence, you try to tell yourself as you make another step.

“Hey, lovely.” Okay, it’s not a coincidence, fucking hell. You curse when his hand touches your shoulder and stops you.

“Sorry for bumping into you, Sir. Anything that I can help?”

“No, I’m waiting for you to separate from the blokes for a while can’t ask for your phone number when they surround you like dogs.”

“I don’t give strangers my number, sorry.” You try to leave, but the man’s hand grabs your shoulder forcefully preventing you from moving.

“Hey, give us a chance yeah? I’m sure we will have some nice time together.”

“I don’t fucking know you!”

Prying off his hand, you turn and start walking fast, almost running when you hear the stranger’s footsteps coming towards you.

Fuck fuck fuck, you haven’t run with such desperation in years, last time must be high school.

“Who the fok are ye arsehole?”

The tears prickling in your eyes when you hear Soap’s voice ringing in your ears before you feel a pair of warm hands drag you behind him.

“Ghost and Soap will deal with him, let’s go.”

Adrenaline pumping through your body finally subsides when Soap and Ghost reappear from the hallway, you don’t want to know what happened to the stranger, maybe hope they’re still alive and in one piece so you won’t involve yourself in another chaos, 

“I think it’s time to go home, Kyle. Is it okay?”

“Of course, wanna grab some food before we leave?”

“I guess Ghost already bought sufficient chocolate for us.”

A burst of laughter catches your attention whilst Gaz looking at the cart with bags of chocolate stuffing under your cereals with disbelief, and a smile crawls back to your lips as you look at Ghost slamming his forehead against a lower door frame and Soap laughing over him.

They aren’t that bad, maybe, or they reserve the remnants of tenderness for you, you’re not sure whether is correct, but at least they have your back when you need them, and that’s enough for you to stop exploring the answer for now.

“Oh.” A book gets knocked off when you shift to stand up. Turning around to pick it up, you have a good look at the shelf behind your seat.

Your eyes dart from ‘Today’s recommendation’ to the book within your grasp.

‘Surrounded by idiots — by Thomas.’

You will rate this recommendation 10 out of 10 for sure.

After insisting on paying yourself and shooing the men off, you take out your card and place it on the scanner.

‘Insufficient balance :( please try again’

You frown when the machine shoves you a nuh-uh, and you open the bank app to check your balance.

So you overspent 10 pounds huh? What a shame to your title for being a successfully financially broken adult. Which link loses and makes you make a wrong shopping decision? 

you scan the list of items with sharp vision until you land your eyes on a product.

Surrounded by idiots - £ 10.61

Ah.

a/n: thx for reading :D sorry it's messy and unlike my previous writings :( hope I can have time to write again btw Price went on business trip so he's missing everything

tag list :D - @blackhawkfanatic @nexthyperfix @danielle143 @goodbyegh0st @reaperxxxxzz @kaoyamamegami @imyprice @cod-z @poppingaround @live-for-fluff @masterstr0ke @mall0ww @ghostysloot @hxnneydew @cutiecusp @beigechristmastree @rejectedbytheempty @lupikekee @hotvinimon @whitetiger846

[fuzzybirdie]

Hero of Changing Faces

Warning, 'tis a bit sweary. Enjoy!

Ch.2 The MOTHERFUCKER Of All Time

The GODDAMN Joker was attacking the GODDAMN ammusement park in the middle of the GODDAMN school holidays! So Duke was a teensy bit pissed.

Today was supposed to be fun! Everyone, including Tim and Alfred, had made sure to clean up their scheduals enough for a family outing, and they managed to pull steph along as well!

Everything was going well so far too! Sure, Damian couldn't stop scoffing at this couple yelling 'Ghost!' All the time, and Tim and Jason were trying to one-up eachother at all the carnival games, (before being absoloutley demolished by cass), but it was fun! They Were having fun.

And then the motherfucker of all time hijacked the roller coaster.

Alfred had managed to sneak everyone's costumes into their day packs, probably foreseeing something going wrong. Either way, this meant that everyone could sneak away and change to fight the Joker.

After getting changed, Signal charged towards the announcer's booth, running into Nightwing on the way. Nightwing who looked pale and terrified. "B went ahead to the roller coaster!" Nightwing called. Ah, Signal's question must've been obvious.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Signal called back,

"Not as a civillian! He went in before it got hijacked!"

"Fuck!"

"Red, Orphan, and I are en route to the rollercoaster" Red Hood interupted "Robin's on his way to the announcer booth, and Spoiler is on evac duty,"

"Roger," Nightwing grappeled past a group escaping one of the rides, "Signal and I will randevous with robin. B is among the civillians on the roller coaster."

"Understood. We'll be in touch once the civvies are safe. Over and Out."

The announcer booth was surrounded by goons, who were taken care of easily enough. (Thank you, pepper spray bottles of sleeping gas!) Leaving the door wide open. Nightwing and Signal crept in, the only hint of their (re: Signal's) presence was the lights dimming and the shadows growing.

The Joker had set himself in the middle of the moniter room. He'd somehow found the time to inflate an air matress and was now lying down, eating popcorn, and kicking his legs like a schoolchild.

"Oh boo!" The Joker cried as the rollercoaster judded to a stop "they didn't even get halfway up! This show sucks!"

Robin took this moment to reveal himself both to his brothers and the Joker by attempting to skewer the latter through the arm. "Oh hi, little Robin!" Joker cackled as Robin missed "Come to watch the show? Though," he looked at where Robin's sword had punctured his matress "That was really rude. Guess I can kill you now!"

As Joker pulled out a gun to shoot at Robin, Signal manipulated the light of the moniters to blind him. Nightwing's escrima crackled into his exposed back, and he was down.

Something clattered out of the Joker's hands along with the gun. Signal had a closer look at it while Nightwing cuffed Joker and Robin shut down all the rides.

"Joker had a deadman trigger!" He practically shrieked into the comms "Get everyone out of there now!" Looking closer at the moniters, it was easy to see the bombs at the bottom of every other support. Thankfully, with Robin having turned off the rides, the safety bar had let go, and the other bats had gotten all the civillians off the ride. Unfortunately, they were still in the blast zone.

Red Robin turned to say something to the civillians. Then this white haired kid practically threw Red Hood into Orphan, who was checking someone for injuries. With everyone behind him, the kid threw out his hands, as a sheet of ice grew from them. The ice seemed to thin to stop anything, but it covered everyone quickly. Once a dome had formed the ice began to thicken.

Then the bombs detonated.

~~~~~~

first / prev / next

It was under the word limit!

So, how many of you got the cameo last chapter? :)

As always, this was inspired by @freedomanddisorder's art and the following prompt chain. Please check out both, they are So cool,

[saranghae2207]

𝘓𝘖𝘕𝘎 𝘙𝘖𝘈𝘋 𝘏𝘖𝘔𝘌

The Mandalorian x Reader

Chapter I: Gone Girl

Summary: After escaping the grasp of a menacing sex trafficker, Y/N accidentaly finds her way onto the Razor Crest

Masterlist

This series will follow the general storyline of The Mandalorian, starting between chapter 4 and 5. It is going to be a SLOW burn, that I can promise. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Descriptions of rape, sexual assault and forced sterilazation, sex traficking, kidnapping, canon typical violence, FMC! able bodied! MC, other than that there are no further descriptions of readers apearance other than that she is pretty.

beep

beep

beep

Fuck.

beep

What time is it?

beep

Weird.

beep

Wayne didn't wake up a single time during the evening, and he usually wont shut up.

beep

How long is my shift today even?

beep

A girls hand palms against hard metal, once, twice.

beep

Where the fuck is that alarm coming from?

Her hand searches for the big button, instead she feels the same cool metal.

beep

The girl raises her head slightly.

beep

Actually, everything feels cold, hard.

Where am I?

beep

The noise is as incessant as Wayne's eternal cries.

beep

Eyes split open a bit, theres a red light. The girl lets out a soft groan. Yes, a red light, bright and flickering. The beeping continues.

beep

Theres another moment of confusion, her eyes peel open a bit more, and the metal beneath her bunched up fists suddenly turns cold as a shock whips through her body.

beep

At once she's on her knees, then feet, clad with mismatched footwear, torn and worn. Her back hits a wall and the slight sound it makes has her clamping her hand against her mouth and sliding down, legs tucked near her chest.

beep

Creatures, men, armour clad beings. Hands, reaching, reaching out. Noises, an assortment of them, none pleasant. Fear, biting, cold, cold like metal. Metal, metal floor.

beep

She grips her hand out in the red lit darkness, feeling around blindly until her fingers graze rough fabric. She grips it tightly and pushes it between her chest and thighs. She slowly removes her hand from her mouth and breathes.

Breath.

beep

Holy fuck, when will that goddamn beeping stop?

Suddenly theres a sound from somewhere outside. She tenses up even more. There's a shuffling, then the door opens. Luckily not the door to the small compartment where she's hiding, she's not that stupid, stupid. No, she knew that they'd probably find her if she hid somewhere in the cockpit, obviously, duh. Once she had made it onto the ship, she'd clammered her way to the back, furthest back she could get, crumpled up there, didn't breath for a while, then exhaled heavily, then curled up into a fetal position and breathed softly, waiting for something to happen, anything.

beep

Maybe it was the combination of adrenaline, lack of food and non stop running she had done, but at some point, she must have fallen asleep. Sometimes that happens, when she falls asleep so deeply. She'll wake up and have seemingly forgoten everything that happened. But it always came back to her, all at once. And the shock of reliving it was never worth the seconds she had forgotten all about it.

beep

She hears buttons being pushed, an engine coming on. It thrums through the whole ship, like a cat purring. And suddenly she feels the lift. She goes completely still for a moment. And then, wooosh, the feeling of moving forward rapidly, sort of like a rollercoaster.

She can't help the smile that creaps up her face. Those fuckers. She know she shouldn't be celebrating too early, but once she feels the force of hyperspace, it's as good as decided. She lets her head fall on her folded arms, her hands feeling at the fabric of her bag.

It's then that she notices that the beeping has stopped, and she feels a sudden and inexplicable ecstasy.

You're free, kind of.

++++++++

The ship lands after a few hours, you hear the ships main entrance open up, the pilot walking out and you know this is your only chance at getting out for good.

So, just like a few hours ago, holy shit that was a few hours ago? Feels like a lifetime ago. You get up and quietly sprint towards the opening you had jumped into. Looking around the cockpit, you sigh, theres no one there. You look towards the door, it's just about to close. Like instinct, you shove the metal pipe you must have gotten somewhere along the way, though you can't remember when or where, into the door. It stops it closing and you softly peer through the crack it has left. You're on a space port, you're not sure on which planet, but it seems busy, a city of sorts. You observe the port, bustling, a lot going on, but your ship seems to be in a back corner, which gives you space to get out unnoticed. You wait a moment, the driver is definitely gone at this point.

You look about a bit, and find a big button, you smack it with your palm, but instead a storage looking compartment pops open.

Shit.

You click the button again and try another one, a light flickers on. No, no, no. Getting desperate, the fear of the driver suddenly returning hits you like cold water and you start randomly smashing at the buttons. One of them must've been right, because the door opens up.

You don't wait a second. You squeeze through as the door is opening and slip into the crowd. Holding tightly onto your bag, your eyes search for an opening, you're not taking any chances, you start at the first one you see. It's a beat up looking ship, but if it can get you further away, nothing else really matters. You jump into the ship without a second thought.

It's roomier on the inside than you would've thought, but you don't linger too long. It's seems the ship is empty for the moment and you don't hesitate to find a hiding spot. You look around and see a sort of bathroom, next to it is a sleeping area. You look to your side and flinch. A pained looking face, encrusted in a silver glaze, there are four of them. What the fuck? You choose to ignore it and go futher into the ship. You find a more open space, your eyes scan the place for possible hiding spots. As you do so, you stumble over something.

You look down, it's a sort of toy. A toy? Multiple kind of sort of toys, your eyes follow the trail to a crib. So this must be some sort of living situation. A kind of mobile home. A parent and child maybe?

As your eyes linger on the crib, they spot a small door. You walk over to it and pry it open. Before you is a small, cramped space. A holy grail hiding spot.

It's then that you hear bustling at the front of the ship.

"You did good little guy, but stop shoving everything into your mouth, okay?"

Your heart starts pounding, but you move fast, shoving your body into the cramped space.

Footsteps move about the other end of the ship. You clamp your hand against your mouth and squeeze your eyes shut. The footsteps grow quieter and then stop. A moment passes and a hum fills the ship. You're off.

You want to celebrate, you've made it away, you're free. But thoughts of your uncertain future plague the feelings of celebration. What the fuck even is your plan actually? It had only really gotten as far as get away, as far as possible. But then what? Keep jumping from ship to ship? You couldn't do that forever, it was too uncertain. But you knew you couldn't stay anywhere for too long. What if the next place this ship stops at doesn't have a space port? Then you'll just be counting down the days 'till they find you, 'till he finds you. But maybe it does have a space port, you get on another ship, then what? You keep doing that? Where will you get food? Water? What if you end up on a ship back to that place? What if the captain of the ship is a sick creep?

You feel panic wash over you. What were you ever thinking? You know nobody, know near nothing, nobody cares about you, only try to use you, hurt you. What was your plan actually, really? Tears prickle your eyes. What were you thinki-

Grasping hands pull you out. It happened so fast you hadn't even realised the door had opened to your hiding spot before you where smashed against the floor.

Disconcerted, you look up and only have a second to take in the figure standing before you, menacing T visor within a metal helmet and bright silver chest plate, before the figure grabs you again and shoves you against a wall near the silver encrusted figures. He reaches to push a button.

"No,"

It's the first thing you've said in...Shit, a while. It comes out hoarse and desperate.

"No, no, no, no," you scramble away just as steam is sprayed.

The figure doesn't hesitate, grabs you again.

"Wait, WAIT!" you desperately plead,

"Please! I mean no harm just hear me out, HERE ME OUT!" the figure shoves you against the opposite wall. Pressing you into it so you can't move.

"What are you doing on my ship," a low, gravely, menacing voice asks through a modulator.

You struggle to catch your breath, heart pounding.

"I mean no harm I promise! I just need to get away."

"On my ship,"

You pause,

"W-well, obviously,"

His arm pushes into your throat,

"Sorry, sorry-"

"How'd you get in?"

You point lamely to a back hatch,

"It was open,"

The visor looks from the hatch back to you, doesn't say anything.

You stay quiet for a moment, gaze searching the helmet then sliding along the ship. You're eyes catch on one of the toys again, and then the idea hits you like a dumptruck, one that could maybe, possibly get you out of all your problems.

"You have a child, right?" you say. Before you know it, a blade presses against your neck.

"Wow, wow, wow, " you scramble in place, but the figures hold is tight on you,

"Who do you work for? The Gild?" he asks.

"What? The fuck is 'Gild'?- No!"

"So others know of it?"

"Listen, I have no idea what you're talking about, I'm just trying to get away from my sellers, look." you show your wrist, on it is written your number, 13156 511182119 and the many brands of the sellers who have held ownership of you, as well as the pain in the ass that you're now running from.

The T visor observes it, something ever so slightly deflating within it, which surprises you.

When the silence goes on, you continue gingerly,

"I could really use a place like this to crash, the guys who are after me are not particularly nice, and I might not have left them with the best impression." you stop for a moment, feeling out the territory you are slowly entering, but when the figure doesn't say anything, just continues to stare at your covered wrist and arm, you take it as your chance to keep going.

"You wouldn't even have to give me anything, I mean maybe some food would be nice, but that's it! And, and, I can take care of the kid, being a single parent, psh, it's h-hard, I would know. A-and I'm fuckin' great with kids. And I can cook, with whatever, that would take some stress off. I also know how to repair damages, which this ship might need."

Sort of, you had been tied up like a dog at a ship repairs station for a month, you had seen a lot, and really how hard can it be?

"And," you continue, trying to get as much in as possible, "I know a lot of first aid, hey, if you get injured or kid get's injured, you never know. I don't even need anything, no bed, no care, no nothing. Well, except for a bit of food, but really that's it. A-a-and it would only be for a couple months, they'll probably get tired of me and move on to some other poor soul.... Please."

With this you shut up, looking up with pleading eyes into the visor, still on your wrist.

A moment goes by, neither of you says a thing, until,

"I don't have time for another refugee,"

"Another?-"

"And I'm not some hotel, nor a taxi driver. I'm dropping you off at the next stop."

"Bu-"

You don't have time to protest before he shoves you towards a ladder,

"Up."

You oblige and go up into what seems to be a cockpit. He follows soon after you. Grabs you and shoves you into one of the chairs, then goes to sit in the front seat.

"Don't move."

Curt, short, you oblige once more. You sit in tense silence, feeling deflated, hopeless. On to the next plan, but what else? What else can you do-

You whip your head to the side where you hear a small noise. For a moment you don't know exactly what to feel, confusion, giddiness, shock.

Next to you, in a kind of pram, sits a little green creature with big ears and equally big brown eyes. You're breath catches in your throat as your eyes meet, a curious look playing about both. The thing reaches out its small hand slowly.

"No."

Your attention goes from the figure to the creature.

"This the kid?" you ask, there is no reply. You look back at the child, it smiles and you can't help join it in it's happiness.

"Are you his dad?" you ask, again to no reply. You smile as you gently reach your hand out to it.

"No." the figure says again. You can't help but pout in annoyance.

"If you're it's dad, are you green under there too?" no reply, which isn't surprising anymore. You figure you might as well just talk a bit more.

"It would be really great if you could reconsider my offer, 'cause right now I'm kind of fucked," you pause,

"You should at least try my cooking first, that'll change your mind." still no reply.

You watch the helmet clad figure a while longer and wonder how they might look underneath it. Then you look back at the child, who has been staring at you the entire time.

Ignoring the previous protests, you gently stroke your finger against the childs cheek. It giggles and takes hold of your finger as the figure says,

"What do you not understand about the word 'no'."

You smile as the child squeezes at your fingers, grinning brightly.

"See? We get along great." you say.

The figure is about to answer when you suddenly hear a blast coming from somewhere behind the ship.

"Shit," the figure mutters as he clicks a couple of buttons and steers the ship away. You look out the window and see a small fighter jet flying past, shooting shots at a rapid pace.

The kid seems nervous and you rub its head softly and look at the figure. Despite the helmet, you can tell he's concentrated. More blasts are sent your way.

"Hand over the child Mando." You hear through an intercom. The figure, Mando as he was called, ignores this and continues steering the ship away.

More blasts are shot, one hits a dramatic blow to one of the engines, the child nearly tumbles over, but you catch it just in time.

"I might let you live," the same voice says again as Mando fervently looks around, in search of a solution. You don't know what to do and just hold onto the child tightly.

Another hit to the ship causes alarms to start going off, the child whimpers in your arms and you stroke its head in a futile attempt to calm it down. The shooting is relentless.

"Hold on," Mando says as he steers the ship in a roundabout motion. You and the child sit there in mutual shock and confusion at the chaos happening around you. You don't notice as the childs arm tighten around yours.

"Come on," Mando mutters, which does not give you much confidence.

"I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold," the voice says and you shiver at what it implies.

It then hits both engines causing all three of you to be knocked back and forth as you come to a sudden stop. The jet, however, does not and crashes into your side, swirving out of control.

It skates in front of you as Mando says,

"That's my line," and blasts it to pieces.

You don't have a moment to make any comment about the bad ass thing he just did. The alarms are blaring and your still holding onto the child, both of you a bit rattled at what just happened.

You see the figure, Mando, pushing at buttons, attempting to salvage the situation.

"There isn't fuel," he says

"Uh oh," is all you can pathetically muster up.

Then everything goes down, the child giggles,

"Not the time," you chastise as Mando looks behind at the two of you.

You're now floating aimlessly in space, Mando stands up,

"Are we fucked?" you ask as he goes to the back. He doesn't reply, as usual, but clicks at something which causes the ship to light up again.

"Oh, good," you say looking around curiously, not bothering to ask any more questions.

Mando sits back down, tapping at screens and clicking buttons, you and the child watch in mirroring wonder.

You're off, much to your relief and you're about to ask Mando about, you know, the assasination attempt just there. 'Cause you assume that it wasn't any of your guys, since he had adressed Mando and the kid directly. What was up with this green bat thing and his armour clad maybe father?

"This is Mos Eisley tower. We are tracking you. Head for bay 35, over." You hear through the intercom.

"Copy that." Mando says, pushing a button above his head,

"Locked in for 35."

You forget about the question you were about to ask as the ship nears the yellow planet.

The engines burst and pop as you near surface,

"You sure you can land this thing?" You ask, looking down at the planet you don't think you've ever been to before. In usual style, he doesn't answer you, instead semi-okay landing the ship.

"Huh," you say, impressed.

Mando turns off the engine, stands up and scoops the child out of your lap. He continues down the ladder and for a moment you just sit there, confused as to whether you should follow him.

You get up, moving to the hatch and poke your head through. Mando stands there, gently wraping up the child, somehow already asleep, in some blankets. He places it in the sleeping space and shuts the metallic door.

Turning around, he looks up at your head, which is still sticking out of the hatch. There's a moment of silence, broken by him saying,

"It's your unlucky day, Mos Eisley isn't exactly the most pleasant place."

"Wait, your just leaving me here?" You feel panic creeping up on you again.

"I told you, I'm not a hotel, I'm dropping you off, that's enough."

You gape at him as he moves to the front deck and opens the ramp.

You snatch your bag and hop down the hatch to follow him outside.

"And you're just leaving the kid here?"

"The kid will be fine."

Before you can answer, he's already moving down the ramp. You haphazardly go to stand next to him, but jump back after he shoots at a gaggle of cute droids, weirdo.

"Hey!" a woman from within the workshop yells at you.

"You damage one of my droids, you pay for it!" she continues, coming closer, glancing at the two of you conspicuously.

"Just keep them away from my ship," Mando grumbles.

"Yeah?" the curly haired woman says "You think that's a good idea, do ya!" she sends you a grumpy look as she says this, but you had nothing to do with this!

I dont even know this dude and now he's dumping me on this rando planet! You want to yell, but she's already prancing about the ship.

"Let's take a look at this ship." She bangs at it a bit,

"Oof," she says "Look at that. Ugh, ya got a lot of carbon scorin' building up top."

"That doesn't sound good." you say, earning you a look from Mando, you can almost imagine the expression he's making right now.

"If I didn't know better I'd think you were in a shoot out," the lady says, and it takes you a lot not to huff out a laugh at the situation.

You look around the repair shop as she goes on about everything that's busted about the ship. The place itself looks pretty busted, and from everything you've heard about the planet, it doesn't seem like the ideal place to stay. You'll have to figure something out.

You look back at Mando and the woman,

"I'll get you your money," Mando says,

"I've heard that before."

Mando warns her about the usage of droids one last time and then turns around. You think he'll say something to you, maybe some advice or a little 'good luck', but the tin can just swoops right past you.

"Well what am I supposed to do?" you ask. He turns around as if just that motion takes an insane amount of effort,

"Take a tour of your new home." he says. You huff as he turns to go,

"You really can't take me anywhere nicer?"

He doesn't even turn back to reply,

"Not a taxi, remember?"

And with that, he's gone and you're left to your senses.

You look around hopelesly, ugh.

"You not going with?" the lady asks, looking at you vaguely.

"Uh, no, this is my stop." you say helplessly. The woman looks incredulous,

"Yeesh,"

This does not boost your moral. You're debating leaving or waiting until he returns to make a last ditch effort at convincing him when you hear the child making noise from the ship. Right, the kid.

You go back to make sure it's okay, only to find the woman holding it haphazardly.

"He yours?" she asks looking back at you,

"Uh, not really,"

"Well then, how 'bout we get you something to eat, huh?" she coos at the child.

"It's okay, I can look after him," you insist, but the lady seems suddenly possesive of the child.

"Oh no, that's fine, why don't you go join your husband, I'll take care of this little sweetheart for ya,"

"He's not my husband," you say, face burning,

"But I'm in charge of the child," you continue, grabbing the kid from her arms.

"Whatever," she mutters grumpily, getting to work on repairements.

You look at the child in your arms and smile brightly. The child returns it with fervor. It then looks over to a shiny metal piece on the ground. You recognise that look and despite yourself, you think of Wayne and a mixture of sadness and deep joy swirl within you as you sit on the ground with the child. You pick up the object and hand it to him. He fidgets around with it, occasionally looking up at you, showing his little teeth. Your heart feels suddenly warm in a way it hasn't felt in a while. You miss it already, knowing that it's not something you can hold on forever, or even for a longer while.

The child picks up another metal piece, this one he tries to put in his mouth,

"No, don't- Hey, spit it out," he begrudgingly does so, and spits it into your hand. It's stiky and gross, but you can't help but giggle.

++++++++

It had been about an hour of you playing with the child, and stopping many attempts at an unhealthy helping of nuts and bolts, when Mando returns. You hear him at the far end of the shop, nearing the ship and moments later running out.

"Hey!" you hear him yell,

"Where is he?"

The lady gets up from where she's fallen asleep and comes out,

"''s okay! Babysitter's got him." she grumbles pointing at you.

Mando turns around and runs towards you two,

"It's fine, we were doing great, see." you say as you hold up the child near your head, the two of you smiling.

"I thought you'd be gone by now, you trying to steal him?" Mando grumbles.

"You can't just leave a child alone like that!" the lady, who at some point you've learnt is named Peli, says.

"You know, you have an awful lot to learn about raising a young one." she continues. You look at him pointedly before smiling back down at the kid. He grumbles.

"I started the repair on the fuel leak," Peli says "I had a couple setbacks I wanted to talk to you about. You know I didn't use any droids, as requested, so it took me a lot longer than I expected."

As she's saying this, Mando goes into the ship to get a bag,

"-but I figured you were good for the money," Peli continues "since you have two extra mouths to feed."

"One extra." he corrects and you can't help rolling your eyes as the child coos.

"You mind taking care of the little one?" he asks Peli,

"So you're now fully kicking me out?" you ask as he pulls the kid from your arms and hands him to Peli.

"Not immediately, I could use your help for something, in the meantime you'll get a nice tour of your future home." he says.

"You got a job, didn't you?" Peli asks as he starts moving toward the exit of the shop, you moving taughtly behind him.

Outside there's a young looking man leaning on what seems to be a kind of motorbike. He sends you a quick once over, eyebrow raising slightly before turning to Mando,

"This the third?" he asks. Mando simply nods as reply,

"Wait what are we doing?" you ask,

"A bounty, dangerous one at that," Mando says "We could use some extra hands. You can use a blaster right?"

You've hardly used a blaster before, but really, how hard could it be?

"Sure,"

"Great,"

The guy looks between the two of you, a light smile playing over his lips,

"So, what do you think Mando, not too shabby, huh?"

Mando observes the three bikes, not too impressed,

"What'd you expect, this ain't Corellia. I'm Toro by the way," he says looking at you,

"Yun," you reply, using a false name, can't trust anyone these days.

The three of you get on the bikes, you sending a final look at the kid. He looks at you sweetly.

Now, you've never riden one of these bikes before, but at this point, you're a sort of master of mimicing others. You look to the two men, who both pull on the front steer and blast off. You do the same, feeling a sudden shock of movement as you follow them along.

You move the steer a bit, left to right, feeling it out mid-motion and trying to keep yourself on the bike. Neither of the men seem to notice your bad driving, which you take as a win.

The three of you ride over sand dunes and big rocks, which seems to be the only thing in this god forsaken landscape. God, you think, and I have to stay here?

You slowly come to a halt, pushing down on a brake looking thing and thanking the lord when it stops. Mando is holding up a fist, looking towards something in the distance.

"What's going on?" Toro asks

"Look up ahead,"

You look and your bad eyesight fails to inform you on what exactly is there except that it seems to be some sorts of figures.

The two men get off their bikes, you follow suit as Torro uses a pair of binoculars to look.

"Tusken Raiders," he says,

Sure.

"I heard the locals talking about this filth." he continues,

"Tuskens think they're the locals. Everyone else is just trespassing" Mando replies.

Different planets, same problems, you think.

"Whatever they call themselves, they best keep their distance." Toro mutters.

"Yeah?" asks Mando "Why don't you tell them yourself,"

You look at him confused and then look to your side,

"Shit," you mutter, flinching away slightly, next to you stand two strange figures, you've never seen that kind before.

"Relax," says Mando, walking up to the two and saying something in a sort of sign language.

You and Toro look on, sharing a confused look,

"What are you doing?" Toro asks him

"Negotiating." Mando answers curtly.

Ah.

Him and the two continue their chat, Mando explaining to you two that you need passage across their land.

The two creatures gesture to you and Mandos gaze glides towards you. You suddenly feel very exposed. Mando makes a gesture that seems to mean negative.

"Let me see the binocs," he then asks Toro,

"Why?"

Mando doesn't answer, simply sending him an apparent glare. Toro sighs and hands him them.

Mando throws them toward the two Raiders,

"Hey! What?" Toro gasps,

"Those were brand new!"

"Yeah?" Mando replies, moving past you to the bikes, "They were." and he's off, you get on as Toro shuffles along, frustrated.

Then you're off again, over the endless sand. You take the time to wonder what they had meant when gesturing at you. Had they wanted you? You look towards Mando, and as if he could hear your thoughts, he looks back at you for a moment. Then looks away and goes faster.

You'd been blasting through the sandy landscapes (not much living in sight, to your chagrin) when Mando raises his fist. The three of you stop,

"Get down." Mando says

"What? Oh"

You follow the two, perching by a sand dune, in the distance you see a fat, rhino looking creature, though it's nothing you'd ever seen before, dragging a limp body along with it.

"Alright, tell me what you see," Mando asks,

"You're mom," you say, it's instinct at this point but Mando doesn't seem to appreciate at all, it gets a chuckle from Toro though.

"Good guess, but that's a Dewback," he says "Looks like the riders still attached."

"Oof, you sure you want to leave me here?" You ask, craining your head to Mando,

"Absolutely."

You snort, looking back at the creature as Toro asks,

"Is that her? Is that the target?"

"I don't know," Mando replies "I'll go, you cover me, and you," he says pointing at you, "go around the other way."

You don't have time to respond before he's moving towards the target. You stumble to the other side, gripping the 'blaster' you had gotten tightly.

You buck by another sand dune as Mando moves closer to the creature,

"Woah, woah," he calms it.

You near him as he turns over the person, a man covered with some sort of breathing device. You keep alert as Toro asks,

"Well, is it her? Is she dead?"

You observe the man,

"Its another bounty hunter," Mando says.

Toro goes on about the man as Mando goes through his stuff. From somewhere in his jacket theres a beeping device.

"What's that?" you ask Mando, but before he can answer, you're suddenly getting blasted at. You let out a soft gasp, turning around and instinctively shooting back in the direction where the blast came from. Your shot is messy and probably shoots up somewhere to the sky, you're not used to using such a weapon.

"Get down," Mando says as he scrambles off, vaguely reaching at your arm. He doesn't have to tell you twice and your already sprinting to the dune where Toro is covering.

Mando get's hit a couple of times, luckily the blasts only manage to graze at your cheek and arm.

You and Mando tumble over the dune, him getting a rough sounding hit. Before you even roll over, you ask him,

"You good?" crawling up to where he now lies on the sand,

"Yeah," he answers, cleary a bit out of breath "Hit me in the beskar, and at that range, beskar held up."

"What's beskar?" You can't help asking. He ignores your question as Toro looks at you with confusion.

"Sniper bolt," Mando continues, "Only an MK-modified rifle could make that shot."

"But neither of us are wearing beskar," Toro says, gesturing to your scratches. Mando looks you over then looks back at Toro,

"Nope."

You would shoot this man if the sniper didn't get to it first.

"So what do we do?" you ask, a bit sharper than usual.

"You see where that shot came from?"

"That ridge."

Mando ponders this for a moment before saying,

"Okay, we're going to wait until dark,"

You let out an incredulous sound,

"Well what if she escapes,"

"Well what if I didn't agree to any of this?" you say.

"She's got the high ground," Mando ignores you "she'll wait for us to make the first move. I'm gonna rest, you take the first watch."

You make a sound of protest that is cut short by Mando,

"Stay low!"

You and Toro share an exasperated look,

"Can you believe this guy?" you ask. Toro chuckles,

"Yeah, he's a character." he looks towards where Mando has now plopped down to sleep.

"What's the situation between you guys anyway?" he asks

"Ah, not much really, he's dumping me on this shit planet after I crashed on his ship."

"Sounds rough."

You huff,

"Yeah, it is. What about you?"

"Tryna get into the Gild."

"There it is again, what the hell is the Gild?" you ask, looking towards his profile.

"You don't seem to know a lot."

"Haven't been away from my home world much." you explain

"Where is that?"

You pause a moment,

"You wouldn't know it, it's far away from here."

Toro shifts his gaze to you,

"If the other women there are as pretty as you I'll have to pay a visit sometime."

You look forward towards the ridge, tensing up at the comment. Toro keeps looking at you for a moment and then looks away.

"It's a bounty hunter organization, one of the best."

"You're a bounty hunter?"

"Yeah, so is Mando, isn't he?"

"Is he?" you look back at the sleeping figure "And what's with the helmet?"

"Mandalorian, you must know those right?" you shake your head.

"Warrior race, they follow a strict creed which tells them to keep the helmet on in front of others."

"Awkward," you say, gazing at the strange figure who keeps getting stranger.

++++++++

Night has fallen, at this point you've taken over the shift, pointing your rifle towards the bounty whom you now have a vague idea of, pissed that Mando would drag you onto such a mission.

"Sun's down, shouldn't we start moving?" you ask Toro, who gets up and stalk towards Mando.

"Look at him, asleep on the job." he tsks, looking back at you,

"Kick him,"

Toro looks back at the Mandalorian then back at you. He turns swiflty, pointing his blaster at Mando.

"I said kick not kill," you say, turning back around.

Toro ignores you and points his blaster back,

"You done?" you hear Mando grumble, which sends an unvoluntary smile to your lips.

"Yeah, I was just checking, you know?" with that Toro shoves the blaster back into his belt,

"Get on your bike. Ride as fast as you can towards those rocks" Mando says,

"Sounds like a great plan," you grumble, shifting onto the bike.

Mando throws a metal object to you and for a moment you think it might be a grenade to get you to shut up. He throws one to Toro,

"A flash charge, we alternate shots, it'll blind any scope temporarily. Combine that with our speed and we might have a chance."

"A chance?" Toro asks,

"Hey, you wanted this-"

"I didn't." you interrupt. You can practically see the frustration pulsating through Mando's body.

"Get ready." and with that, you're off.

Adrenaline waves through you, Mando sets off his fash charge. There's a temporary halt, then another blast.

"Now!" Mando calls to you.

Pressing the button and holding it above your head, you set yours off. It emits a bright light and you can't help the grin that creeps through the excitement.

Blasts keep shooting at you, Toro sets his flash off but it's just then that Mando gets shot off his bike. You don't know what to do as he shoots a light into the air, getting shot again.

You look at Toro in an attempt to figure this out, he gestures to the side of the ridge and signs something that you hope you can make out correctly.

Steering your bike to the side, you come to a halt, jumping off and taking cover by the rock.

Gripping the blaster tightly, you breath heavy as you peer to where Toro is now creeping up to Fennec, the bounty. He sends you a last look, a nod.

"Not so fast Fennec." you hear him say in such a self appointed way you can't help but roll your eyes.

Fennec stills a moment, then throws a sharp object towards Toro, you wait for the perfect time to aid.

The two start fighting, you wait for her to fully let her guard down. Turns out you've let your guard down aswell as your back hits a metal figure.

"Shit," you flinch "thought you were dead."

"Beskar." the mandalorian says simply, you roll your eyes,

"Right."

"I'll get her, you cover me." you can't protest as he walks towards the two struggling.

"Nice distraction." he says, pointing his gun at Fennecs head. You stand opposite, doing the same.

Fennec sighs, letting Toro go, he stumbles towards you with pained noises.

"You good?" you ask, not taking your eyes off of Fennec,

"'Course I am." Toro answers lamely.

"Cuff yourself," says Mando, throwing a pair of cuffs at Fennec. She simply looks up at him.

"A Mandalorian. It's been a long time since I've seen one of your kind." Mando doesn't reply, you send him a wondering look.

"Ever been to Nevarro?" Fennec continues "I hear things didn't go so well there but it looks like you got off easy." Mando stands there, still. What is up with this guy? You wonder.

"You don't have to worry about getting to Nevarro, or anywhere else once we turn you in." Toro says "You know I really should thank you, you're my ticket into the Guild."

"You're welcome," Fennec huffs.

The four of you walk to were the bikes are parked.

"Uh oh, looks like one of us will have to walk," Fennec gleams,

"Or we could drag you," Mando says, earning a mean look from her.

"So what's the plan?" Toro asks as the three of you huddle to the side.

"I need you to go find that Dewback we saw," Mando tells him,

"And leave you here with my bounty and my ride? Yeah, I don't think so, Mando. Send the girl instead." Mando looks to you and then back to Toro,

"She's not as familiar with the local wildlife."

"Well then," Toro raises his hands.

Mando looks about for some time, then sighs "Okay, I'll do it, watch her," he points to Fennec, "and don't let her get near the bike. She's no good to us dead." with that, he walks off.

"Real ray of sunshine," you mutter, going to sit at a rock in a futile attempt to rest a bit.

++++++++

Rest did not come to you easily, you only occasionally came close to dozing off but were always startled awake by something. None of you had spoken since Mando had left. It was only when the sun was creeping up the horizon that Fennec finally said,

"It's been a while,"

You split an eye open to watch her carefully.

"Oh look, the suns are coming up." she continued.

"Quiet." Toro says, Fennec doesn't seem to hear this though, she continues.

"Look, there's still time to make my rendez-vous in Mos Espa. Take me to it and I can pay you double the price on my head." she glanced at you carefully, you didn't let anything show on your face.

"I don't care about the money." Toro says nonchalantly.

"Oh?" Fennec says "so the Mandalorian keeps all the money for himself."

"Only because I let him."

Fennec chuckles at this "Doesn't seem that way. I mean it seems like he's calling all the shots." you don't like where this is going, but you stay where you are, leaning against the rock.

"Shows what you know," you hear Toro say, agitated "I hired Mando, this is my job,"

"What about you? Seems he's just dragging you along." Fennec says, looking at you.

You let out a sigh "I don't really care what happens to any of you, but that money sounds nice." you mutter.

"And bringin' you in," Toro directs this at Fennec as she looks at you elusively "will make me a full member of the Bounty Hunters Guild."

Fennec smirks at this, finally sliding her gaze from you, "You already have something the Guild values far more than me. You just don't see it."

"What?"

"The Mandalorian, his armour alone is worth more than my bounty."

"I already told you, I don't care about the money."

"Then think what it can do for your reputation. A Mandalorian shot up the Guild on Nevarro," you tense up at this new information,

"Took some high value target and went rogue."

The child? You wonder.

"That Mandalorian?" Toro asks, your attention is now fully on the conversation happening before you.

"Like I said, you don't see many. You bring the Guild that traitor, and they'll welcome you with open arms. You're name will be legendary. Both your names, you won't have to live on this shithole planet anymore." she directs this at you. You don't reply, simply observing Toro as he stands up.

"How can we be sure he's the one?"

"Word is, he still has the target with him. Some say it's a child." Toro's gaze flicks to you, you know what he's thinking.

No,

"Look, if you're afraid to take him on," Fennec continues "fear not, I can help you with that. Take some advice kid, you want to be a bounty hunter? Make the best deal for yourself and survive."

You've heard that one before, lived it.

But Wayne, but the child.

Toro looks around with uncertainty, you hold your breath waiting for what will happen next. He puts his blaster away and walks to her, sending you a look. Fennec walks up to him, holding her cuffs out. Your breath is bated.

BLAST

Fennec falls to the ground,

"What the fuck!" you yell at Toro, he ignores you,

"That's good advice, but if I took those binders off of you I'd be a dead man. And if the Mandalorian's worth more than you well... Who wouldn't want to be a legend?"

With that he stands up and looks at you,

"How 'bout it? I'll give 10 percent of the earnings if you help me." you look at him carefully. You ponder it a moment, but no, you can't do that to the child, could never.

"Sounds great, but I gotta lay low right now."

"And how do I know you won't go right to him, huh?"

"Oh please, not that fuckass, I'll go the opposite way, try to find something there."

"Mos Espa's not far off," he walks closer to you, you pull out your blaster "Woah, don't worry, just wanted to thank you." he's up to your face now.

"No problem," you breath out, already anticipating what will happen next.

His blaster crashes into your head, not hard enough to kill you, but obviously meant to knock you unconcious.

Your head spins, feeling heavy as you hit the ground. Your natural instict is to get back up and fight him, but like a lightning bolt a plan blast to your mind and you stay still.

You hear Toro huff as he gets onto his bike and zooms off.

You feel your face burn, maybe because of the sun, probably because of the decision you'd just made. What if he hurts the child? He probably wouldn't but still. You could've stopped him then and there, shot him or knocked him out. But that would've been hard to explain to Mando, he might distrust you, think you were trying to betray him. It was better if he found you like this. You feel ashamed at doing this, but you still do.

You don't move, just lie there, breathing in the sand. You feel some blood trickling down your forhead and can't help the relief you feel. It will be more realistic this way. God, you hate yourself for doing this. But no one's going to get hurt, right? You'll help Mando as soon as he gets back. Your fingers twitch around your blaster just to check if it's still there.

You lie there for some time, the suns rising slowly behind you, you can feel them licking your body but you still don't move. The warmth makes you drowsy. You think back to where you were just 24 hours ago and use this as a comfort. Freedom still felt so far out of reach, so distant, and even though you were laying here, next to a probably dead mercenary, at least you weren't in that place. Even though it burned your skin, you could at least feel the suns on you, you hadn't felt that in such a long time, you could almost cry.

You think about the sweet child, it's big eyes and sweet smile and then you think back to Wayne, his eyes, his smile. You feel something gliding down your face. Blood? A tear.

++++++++

You're barely concious anymore when you finally hear the heavy footsteps behind you. You hear someone jump on the ground and you don't even have to act drowsy.

"What happened?" you hear Mando ask. You breath in, your throat raspy as you mutter,

"Toro, he's trying to- get... Child, the child." your lips are dry as you say this.

A sudden gush off water splashes over your face.

"Ugh, blah!" you get up, coughing a bit. You see Mando holding a canester,

"Thanks," you mutter, grabing the canester and taking a swig. The water feels like heaven.

"What happened?" Mando asks again,

"Fennec said you'd betrayed the Guild and taken their most prized asset."

"Shit." Mando gets up,

"What is he gonna do?" he asks,

"Tryna take you and the child in."

Mando paces,

"Get on, we need to get back to Peli." you oblige, getting up despite the slight dizzines you feel. You grip your blaster tightly and get on the Humpback, Dumpback, whatever thing.

It starts to gallop, you look to the back of Mando's helmet,

"So what's your plan?"

He takes a moment, then says, "I go in front, you go in the back. I'll take care of a distraction, you shoot at him and get the child."

"Got it." you affirm.

You keep going, staying quiet. You look at his back, at his cloak and then up to his silver helmet. A Mandalorian? You ponder him a moment, then break the silence.

"So what actually happened on Nevarro?" you ask

"Seems you already know." you huff lightly, looking out at the landscape.

"Yeah, but why? Why'd you take the kid?"

He doesn't answer.

"You gonna eat it or something?"

"You do love to ask questions,"

You smile,

"So you're a sort of adoptive father?"

He doesn't say anything. You look down at your hands, where they lay on the creatures back.

"I used to have a kid. Well technically he was my brother. He was really loud." you chuckle "but sweet. He used to wake up every night crying and I would lie with him until he fell back asleep. He looked so precious asleep." you giggle at the memory of his small face, small feat, tiny hands, precious.

"He's gone now though." you shake your head a bit, loosening the memory from your mind.

"The kids not loud, just a bit curious." Mando says. You look up, a bit shocked that he actually said something. You huff out a small laugh.

"Curiosity is good,"

"It can also be bad."

You look down at your hands, scratched and dirty, contemplating.

"Those tatoos, how long have been in the sales?" he suddenly asks. You cringe a bit at the question.

"I've lost track how long, a while though."

Mando just huffs in answer. You expect him to pry further but he stays quiet.

++++++++

You arrive back to the workshop and hop off. It's already dark. You send a quick nod to Mando and head to one of the back doors.

You creep through quietly, making sure you don't get noticed.

You perch behind some supplies, peering to where Mando has just entered.

"Took you long enough Mando," Toros voice sound from within the ship, "Looks like I'm calling the shots now, huh partner?" the superiority in his voice nearly sends your eyes rolling backwards.

"Drop your blaster and raise 'em." he continues.

Mando obliges and you can now see Toro, holding the child while pointing a blaster at Pelis back.

"Cuff him," Toro demands Peli.

"You're a Guild traitor, Mando." Toro says, "And I'm willing to bet this here is the target you helped escape." he's now pointing his blaster at the child and it takes you everything not to pound on him this second.

"Fennec was right, bringing you in won't just make me a member of the Guild, it'll make me legendary."

Hes about to shoot at him when Mando blasts off his flash charge. You don't hesitate a moment. Shooting at him, making sure not to hit the child. You stumble back at the force of the shot, still not used to the feeling.

He falls to the ground, nearly dropping the child if it weren't for you scooping in and catching it.

Mando and Peli observe the fallen man as you look down at the child, whos face beams at yours.

"I'm sorry if that was a bit loud, hm?" you gently stroke his ears.

Mando comes up to you and you begrudgingly hand the child to him.

"Careful." you say.

He is, gently looking down at the small thing, you look on with a mixture of content and sadness.

"So I take it you didn't get paid?" Peli asks, Mando takes a sort of wallet out, Toros probably, and plops the contents into her hands.

"That cover me?" he asks, Peli looks bewildered,

"Yeah, yes. This is gonna cover you. All right pit droids, let's drag this outta here!" she yells at her droids as Mando approaches you.

"I'll be on my way the ? Think I found a nice rock to live under," you quipped.

"The child likes you," Mando states. You smile down at the kid, holding up a finger as it reaches towards you.

"You mentioned you do repairs?" your gaze shoots up to him,

"Absolutely,"

"Cleaning?"

"Yup."

"Get in," he says, cocking his head to the ship. You smile brightly as the child coos. You follow the two into the ship.

>Chapter II

[fruitcoops]

Do They Know It's Christmas?

Happy holidays, lovelies! And most importantly, happy noot fic exchange/ secret Santa to @itsaash --you're a legend, a sweetheart, and a friend I hold near and dear to my heart. I hope everyone is staying safe and sound! You've made it through the shortest day of the year; it's only up from here! Thanks to @veryspacecowboy for coordinating the exchange and @lumosinlove for the characters!

TW for implied smut and mild Vaincre spoilers

Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus, right down Santa Claus Lane…

“Fourth line, take it left!”

…and all the fun we had last year…

“Good work, boys, remember we’re working clockwise.”

Run, run, Rudolph, Santa’s gotta make it to town…

“I know, I know, but we need to get that down before we break today.”

…come on, it’s lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with…

“Keep those crossovers clean in the corners, Sunny!”

…the very next day, you gave it away…

Arthur frowned at his clipboard. An ache had started up along the inner corner of his eye, and not even the steady working of his thumb brought relief. The song changed to something bright and tinny with silver bells; the things he would give for a nice, quiet O, Holy Night right about now. Something soft, with minimal jangling. A saxophone would be lovely.

They had a schedule. They always had a schedule. The boys were used to rotation exercises—he had even taken pity and not added anything new or complicated to the roundup. The whole damn thing was laminated and taped to the damn glass around the damn bench on both damn sides of the goddamn rink.

Arthur’s eyes ticked typewriter-smooth down the list, but his ears alone would have told him it was a lost cause. Messy crossovers. From Sunny. Crunchy, scratchy steps from skates of perfect sharpness. Low muttering, barks of laughter, rollercoaster-arcs of chatting when they were supposed to be focusing. Cap did his best, but Harzy looked about two laps from chewing his way out through the boards.

Well. It was almost Christmas. He could be kind.

The whistle broke through Brenda Lee’s second chorus; 20 heads popped up.

“Revision!” Arthur called across the ice, drawing a steady line through the end of his list. “Bring it in.”

Their rush to the bench was the cleanest they had sounded all day.

“We’re going to finish a little early today—”

A wave of cheers cut him off, then petered out at his unimpressed glance.

“We’re finishing a little early,” he repeated when the Christmas spirit had released their souls at last, leaving only a faint ringing in the upper levels of the bleachers. “Because I’m taking off the last rotation.”

Arthur slipped his pen back into the clipboard clamp. Olli raised a tentative hand. “So…we can go…?”

Arthur frowned. “What? No, we’re going ‘til noon, if you just—guys, the schedule is right there—”

“Nooo—”

“But Coach—”

“—Christmas!—”

“I haven’t even—”

“—been here so long—”

“—like you don’t even love us—”

“—mom’s gonna kill me if I don’t—”

Unbelievable. Simply beyond words. Arthur looked over Nado’s pleading hands, hoping for an ounce of solidarity from the one person besides himself who was literally appointed for this duty, and was met with only a beleaguered, whale-eyed stare in return.

Arthur raised his eyebrows.

Sirius gazed back.

For such a large person, he could really pull off ‘sickly Victorian child begging for gruel’ when he wanted to.

“Alright,” Arthur muttered. It was lost in the sea of writhing and wailing. “Alright!”

The team (finally) fell somewhat silent.

“I am very sorry,” he began, pausing to slide his clipboard onto the bench hook. Their anticipation was delicious. “That I assumed a group of grown men playing their favorite game for millions of dollars would be able to handle one morning practice for their last competition before a holiday break.”

Pots’ eyebrows pitched as if he had been stabbed. “But Coach, it’s Christmas.”

“It is December 22nd.”

“I haven’t even found something for my dad yet!” Walker piped in.

“Sounds like a personal problem with time management.”

Pascal—the traitor—shuffled on his skates. “I was going to make holiday cookies with my children,” he said sadly. “They grow up so fast. We might not have many years of it left.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’m letting you go at noon, not locking you in here overnight. And I know you make cookies on Christmas Eve, because you put them on my doorstep every year.”

Pascal tsked, but didn’t deny it.

“You get cookies?” O’Hara perked up, craning his neck to look at Pacal. “How come we don’t get cookies?”

“Because I don’t need you to like me,” Pascal said with a smile.

“What if we need to catch flights?” Knut interrupted.

Arthur squinted at him. “Knut, we have a game tomorrow. You better not be going anywhere.”

“Well, no, but the sentiment stands.”

“No, it does n—you know what, fine, if you make it through…” Arthur leaned around the glass to squint at his beautiful, crisp schedule. “Your next two—TWO, I don’t wanna hear it—rotations before 11:30, I will let you out then.”

“And no lift tonight?” Kuny asked hopefully.

“Don’t push it.”

“Veto.”

Budding protests froze over in one collective puff of breath.

…the stars are brightly shining…

“What?” Arthur asked at last.

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices…

Sirius licked his lips, shifting from one foot to the other. “Veto.”

Arthur opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Every eye in the room was fixed on their captain. He rested his chin on top of his hands, folded on his stick. Lupin’s gaze flickered back and forth.

“But I…” Arthur faltered, gesturing at the schedule.

“I get three.”

“It’s not even 9:30.”

“No questions asked.”

“We have a game.”

“It’s snowing outside.”

“How do you know that?” Arthur asked despairingly.

A grin skipped across his face. “I’m Canadian. I can smell it a mile off.”

“Also, Tremzy texted everyone right before practice,” O’Hara added.

“It’s snowing, have fun at practice, you fucking losers, ha-ha,” Knut recited with a grave nod.

“No, no,” Sirius corrected. “My bones are made of snow and I was born with hockey skates in one hand and a thermometer in the other.”

“That, I believe.”

Arthur waved his hands between them before the already-unbearable situation could get any worse. “Let me just…” His headache was coming back. Going home early was starting to sound less terrible by the minute. “You, as captain, get three vetoes across the span of your contract.”

“Ouais.”

“Which you can use to veto any practice you want, for any reason, with no questions asked by me or other staff.”

“That’s what I signed, yes.”

“And you’re using it on a snow day? With barely two hours left of practice? Before a game and a week off?”

Sirius smiled. “Veto.”

“Lupin.” A last-ditch effort. Perhaps a dirty play, but it was warranted. “Lupin, don’t you have anniversary plans? Birthdays? Anything else he can use this on?”

The captain’s barely-contained mischief was bad enough. Lupin’s mild bemusement was worse. “I’m sorry, Coach, but I can’t question a veto from my captain.”

Arthur scanned the crowd of hopeful faces. Sometime in the last minute and a half, Knut had slipped his phone off the bench and was doing his best to text under Winter’s elbow. Kelly Clarkson sang along to his imminent defeat. He sighed, shook his head, and opened the gate. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Nobody moved.

Arthur blinked. “Merry Christmas?”

Not a twitch.

“Ho-ho-ho, get out.”

The dispersal was the most active they had been all day, surging forward in one mass of whooping red and gold. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Moody turn the music up a notch before hustling back into his office.

The herd had vanished down the tunnel in a matter of seconds. Arthur shook his head, turned his smile toward the empty rink, and pulled out his phone.

--

The locker room was a disaster.

“Don’t pull so hard!” Leo grunted as he fought to wriggle out of his jersey, hopping on one socked foot while Finn tried to help him out of his remaining skate. “I’m gonna fall, I’m gonna fall, Kasey—”

An elbow to the ribs righted him. “Yeah, no, I’m on my way out,” Kasey called over the ruckus, sandwiching his phone between his ear and shoulder. “Yeah, lemme get my shoes on. Al’s driving? Jesus, maybe I’ll just walk.”

“A tie is bad, right? That’s a bad gift?”

“T, I’m sure your dad will love anything you get him.”

“But I got him one for his birthday.”

Remus grimaced for just a moment, but it was enough. Thomas dropped his head into his hands with a groan.

“No, hey, it’s a good gift!” Remus tried, patting his shoulder. “Does he have a lot of ties?”

“He’s more of a sweater guy.”

“T.”

“I know, I know, I know.” Thomas sighed. His head fell back against his stall, then rolled toward Remus as his lip slid out in a pout. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Did Remus have to give him a minute with this one? He was a little afraid he did. “T,” he started. “Your dad likes sweaters.”

“Yeah.”

“So get him sweaters.”

“But what if he doesn’t like them?”

Remus took him by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “He likes you.”

Thomas made a desperate sound and rolled his head the other way, then heaved himself upright. “I need to go outside. The cold clears my mind.”

“Way ahead of you!” Finn shouted over his shoulder, one hand clasped in Leo’s and the other on the doorknob with his skates teetering dangerously over his shoulder.

Leo hoisted their duffel bags, shuffling through the narrow doorframe with all the grace of a newborn giraffe. He gave them one last clumsy wave with a glove half-on. “Lo sends his love, even if he’ll never say it!”

“Yes, I’m coming,” Kasey laughed, presumably still to Natalie. He caught the door with his foot just as it was beginning to close; Remus grabbed the edge of it from him and waved off both his grateful look and mouthed thank you. “Yes, baby,” Kasey repeated. “Usual spot. On my way.”

It was a disaster, and then as fast as they had all tumbled in, everyone flooded out. A few of the newer guys remained, muffled by the hum of the showers. Dumo ruffled up Sirius’ hair as he passed, preoccupied by Celeste’s rapid-fire French on the phone and the hustle of his light jog. Remus was pretty sure he caught some mention of the park; there was one near their house with a pond that froze around this time of year. He was a little surprised Logan wasn’t already staking his claim on it.

Sirius’ arm was around him before he even started to sit. It made for the perfect guide and counterbalance, settling him firmly on a denim-clad thigh with a kiss to seal it in seconds. “Hey,” Sirius mumbled against his shoulder blade.

“Hi, trouble,” Remus laughed.

Sirius hummed, obviously pleased, and gave him a squeeze around the waist. “That felt good.”

“Using your powers for evil?”

“Mhm.” Another pulse, this time with a cheeky pinch to his hip. “And you.”

Remus scoffed, swatting at him, but couldn’t help leaning back into his warmth all the same. He was lucky Sirius couldn’t see the heat of his face, too preoccupied with nuzzling his way across the span of Remus’ back to leave a kiss at the top notch of his spine before burying his nose in the divot below. Odd creature, that one. Remus liked him far too much. “What are you doing?”

“You smell good.”

“I haven’t showered.”

“I noticed.”

Remus bit the inside of his cheek for a moment. He gave the room a cursory glance—the stragglers were just finishing up, too engrossed in whatever wisdom James was bestowing on them to notice the graze of Sirius’ teeth over the arch of his shoulder. “I was thinking,” Remus started, then lowered his voice. “Was thinking we could do it at home instead.”

Sirius’ smile pressed bright and devious to his skin. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Am I invited?”

“Unless I’ve started using the royal ‘we’,” Remus teased, digging his elbow lightly back into the curve of Sirius’ rib.

His laugh was soft, but the pat to Remus’ outer thigh was perfectly heavy with promise. “Get your bag.”

News of their early departure had obviously reached the ears of the rest of the training staff, because the halls were stark in their emptiness on the way out, after many goodbyes to James and promises of dinner tonight. Remus had been dying for some actual holiday time—he had planned gifts months in advance, dedicated an entire Monday to wrapping, agonized over delivery times and game schedules and delays.

But he was craving the substance of it, the literal meat and potatoes of people coming over to ooh and aah at the ornaments over dinner by the fire. Most of all, he wanted some time that was theirs. A brief moment to enjoy the lights and the smell of fir with just himself, Sirius, and the dog. It had been…three weeks? More? Since they put the wreaths and boughs up around the house. He was pretty sure that was the last time they had been able to do holiday things that didn’t involve obviously sneaking off to get gifts for each other.

Sirius seemed to feel the same. They had hardly made it past the PT room before he was pulled into an empty hallway for a kiss that melted in his mouth like butterscotch. He hummed, pushing into it, but Sirius just took him by the hips and pressed him back against the wall. Okayokayokayokayokay came the giddy whirl of the end of his thoughts.

“This.” Sirius’ mouth moved against his jaw, threatening a mark above his pulse point. “This is what I was after.”

“Cancelling practice just to kiss me,” Remus said, breathless already. His throat caught at a flash of teeth under his ear. “So irresponsible.”

Sirius’ eyes were bright and playful. “And I’d do it again.”

They got away with another minute—or five—before footsteps sounded down the other hall. Remus took him by the hand and pulled him toward the parking lot at a brisk, tumbling clip, sneakers pattering on the floors Filch was waiting to wax until they were all gone for the break. Hooligans, he called them. It echoed in Remus’ head as he kissed Sirius stupid in the hall beside the display cases. If only he could see them now.

The air bit his face as soon as they stepped outside, hot and kiss-fresh. Remus could hear voices around the corner but Sirius’ hand was sliding ever-lower and he just—“There’s people!” he hissed, fighting his grin with a blind bat backwards.

Sirius was too fast. A firm grab made him hoot, startling a laugh from both of them. “The entire world has seen us making out in a car, loup,” he snorted. “I think that’s worse.”

It was only the Cubs, after all, and half a snowman wearing a disjointed collection of gear. Leo’s oh-so-subtle text must have done the trick to summon Logan out of his holiday relaxation. He had only flown in that morning after the Rangers’ last game, but he seemed plenty awake despite the journey.

“You’re making me cold just looking at you,” he argued, adjusting his beanie over Leo’s ears while Finn finished rolling the head beside them. “You’ve lived here for years, and still you forget a hat?”

“Merci, baby.” Leo tried to sound begrudging while he obediently bent to let Logan work, but it only came off as fond. Remus could relate.

“And Fish just lets you walk out of the house like this. Unbelievable. It’s snowing.”

“It wasn’t snowing when we left,” Leo pointed out. “I seem to remember a ha-ha, losers text informing us of the change.”

Logan’s tsk was sharp as black ice while he tenderly tucked Leo’s curls under the hat’s knitted edge and kissed each of his cheeks. “Completely frozen over,” he informed Leo. “You’re welcome.”

“Now you’re going to get cold.”

Whatever disbelieving expression Logan made was lost to Remus as Sirius ushered him around the back of the car, but his scoff was plenty audible. “I’m Canadian. I don’t get cold.”

Sirius’ forehead hit the steering wheel the moment their doors closed. “I want to be home,” he complained.

“You’re in the right place to get there.”

“I don’t want to drive.”

“I can do it.”

A pathetic sigh heaved his back and shoulders. “I don’t want to wait fifteen minutes.”

Remus tugged on the back of his hat. “Not that I’ll ever say no to a little New Year’s action, but I feel like we just covered why that’s not a great idea in broad daylight.”

Sirius groaned, grumbled, and turned the car on.

Between salt and the morning commute, the roads were mostly clear. The familiar crunch of snow under tires pulled half of Remus’ brain from the rink; the other half followed at a sluggish pace, coaxed away by radio carols and the mindless chatter the two of them somehow managed in spite of spending eighty percent of their time together. The window was cold on the side of his head. Remus never liked freezing, but there was something about a snow day that always felt like home.

The house lights cast red and green glimmers over Sirius when they pulled in. They were working on getting decorations he liked; things he actually wanted, not just what Instagram said he should use. It wasn’t a lot yet, but it was a start. The icicle lights above the door had been a particularly good find.

They were greeted by a loud bark and the scrabble of paws. Hattie careened around the corner from the living room (she had taken to dozing under the tree) and spun herself at their feet in a few tight circles for maximum petting efficiency.

“We’re home so early!” Sirius cooed, gathering her wiggly body up in his lap like she was still tiny. “Oh, you’re so excited. Did we surprise you?”

“We were so mean to poor Coach,” Remus agreed as he dodged her lolling tongue. “Yes, baby, so mean, but now we’ll be home all day.”

Hattie keened and whined and nibbled on everything in reach for a tolerable thirty seconds, then launched herself out of Sirius’ lap and made a beeline for her toy box. She had hardly made it halfway to them when a cardinal flitted past outside—her ears spiked up, body puffing on a low bwoof. Remus barely got the screen door open before she was off like a bird-seeking missile, cutting through the snow in leaps and bounds.

They dumped their gear in the mudroom, made a snack, planned lunch, played with the dog, dried the dog, cleaned her paws, and finally—finally—they were standing in the same room, with nothing to do for another hour at least.

“Hi,” Remus said, heart kicking.

Sirius smiled. “Hello.”

Hattie’s teeth squealed on her peanut-butter-filled toy.

They wasted no time for foolishness on the stairs. A sweater on the ribbon-wrapped banister; socks in the hall. Sirius’ pants didn’t even make it across the bathroom threshold, belt clattering on the floor. Remus turned the shower on with his eyes closed because he quite simply could not be bothered to spare more than one hand.

“C’mere,” he murmured into Sirius’ mouth, even as he stepped backward under the spray. “C’mere, don’t move.”

Sirius’ response was wordless and perfect.

Steam built around them, chasing off the chill. The house was decorated. The presents were wrapped. Meals were planned, the dog was busy, and Remus was tired but he was so, so awake now, with ink-black hair wound around his fingers and a boy that held him so the hot water never left him.

Sirius rested his head on Remus’ shoulder and went lax at the drag of a soapy hand over his back. “So good.” His mouth rested at the curve of Remus’ jaw. Every word cooled his skin. “So good to me.”

“Doing my best,” Remus joked with a scritch to his nape.

Sirius raised his head, blinking sleepily around the water that spilled down his face. “I don’t remember the last time I wasn’t scrambling for gifts this time of year.”

“I do.”

“Mm?”

“Last year.” Remus smudged a few soap bubbles down the bridge of his nose. “Shopping for you.”

Sirius’ forehead wrinkled. “Me?”

“I was being cranky,” Remus assured him, running his thumbs over Sirius’ collarbones. He didn’t have a lot of soap left, but he would be shameless and greedy about touching like this. “Lily knocked some sense into me.”

“She’s good at that.”

“The best.”

“And she’s lucky to have you.” A kiss pushed the side of his hair into a cowlick; Sirius grinned as he smoothed it down with one hand. “Trop mignon.”

Hot hot hot hot hot. Remus wrapped both arms around his waist and sank his teeth into the knot of soft muscle above Sirius’ heart. Sirius’ laugh jostled him, but that was fine. He was used to it. “I love the holidays with you.” One last little kiss to his neck, to the spot he had bitten the other night and made Sirius’ leg tremble. “I love you.”

“I’m going to veto every single practice forever.”

“No,” Remus laughed, swaying them back and forth. He covered Sirius’ wicked smile with his hand and kissed the back of it. “No, non, not allowed.”

“But I get kisses and showers and I love you’s and dinner—” His hands skimmed up and down Remus’ sides, running over wet skin with the expertise of someone who knew all his soft spots. “—and you bite me and our dog loves us and we get to see James and Lily tonight—”

Remus cut him off with his lips this time. “Your perfect day,” he whispered, though it was just them in the house. “Sounds pretty close to mine.”

“Copycat.”

“Maybe we should just stick together,” Remus offered. Sirius’ fingertips found his own, lacing together all too easily. “For maximum perfect-day concentration, you know.”

“Nothing else, of course,” Sirius agreed.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I put mistletoe above our bedroom door when we were decorating.”

“Amateur. I put it on the ceiling above our bed.”

[stormblessed95]

Uhhh South Korea’s president just declared martial law…

I haven't been on Tumblr much today, not enough to really scroll through anything until now. But can I just say that watching that news unfold through the day while I was working and after I got home too. What a fucking emotional whiplash of a rollercoaster 😭 goddamn

[mizuki-nikki]

my top 5 favorite anime of all time ✨

i’ve been watching anime for as long as i can remember, and honestly, some of them have played a huge role in shaping the person i am today. so today, i’m diving into something close to my heart—an essay all about my favorite anime of all time!

1. K

some people might be surprised by my number one anime of all time. k series (k project, k missing kings, k return of kings, k seven stories) is hands down the most emotional anime i’ve ever watched. i first saw it back in 2012 on animax and goddamn, it hit me right in the heart. the animation was peak for its time, and the characters? so well written, so full of depth.

i get that it’s not for everyone—yeah, the plot can be a bit heavy and confusing—but that’s part of what makes it special to me. i looooove this anime. even more than ten years later, every time i rewatch it, i still feel all those same emotions. it’s not just nostalgia—it’s timeless.

(favorite character: fushimi saruhiko)

2. blue lock

i genuinely think this might be the best sports anime of the new generation. i started reading the manga during the pandemic, right after attack on titan dropped its final chapter. the author recommended it, and i thought—why not? and wow, it instantly became a new obsession.

it’s got everything i love—intense sports action, a cast full of pretty boys, and that wild battle royale twist? say less, i was all in. it has unique and fresh premise that we didn't see that often from other sports manga (being the ultimate egoist and screw teamwork? omg) when the anime started gaining traction and getting the recognition it deserves, i couldn’t stop smiling. like, finally. people see it.

i can’t wait to see where the story goes from here. and honestly? i just hope i’m around long enough to watch the endings of all the anime that shaped me

(favorite characters: itoshi sae, itoshi rin)

3. haikyuu

when we’re talking about sports anime, there’s no way we can skip haikyuu. i actually watched haikyuu before blue lock (and it is actually the total opposite of blue lock) and i’ve gotta say—it hit me hard. the way it mixes teamwork, passion, and pure determination? it’s something else.

what starts as just a volleyball match somehow turns into this emotional rollercoaster that keeps you hooked every single episode. haikyuu showed me that with hard work and trust in your team, you can rise above anything.

no doubt, this is one of the top anime of my life. if you haven’t seen it yet, seriously—go watch it. it’s a must.

(favorite character: oikawa tooru)

4. naruto

and of courseeee, i cannot forget the ultimate anime that shaped my childhood—naruto! i started watching it when i was super young, probably around 8, and even back then i was already following the manga. no question, this is one of the greatest masterpieces ever made.

yeah, it’s long. yeah, not everything’s perfect. but it holds such a special place in my heart. the journey, the growth, the bonds—everything just hits. watching naruto grow from a loud, stubborn genin to the hokage? it’s honestly so inspiring. and not to mention that sasuke is honestly my first ever fictional character that i loveeee.

definitely the best old anime of all time in my books. nothing else hits quite the same.

(favorite characters: uchiha sasuke, uchiha itachi)

5. classroom of the elite

i watched season 1 out of curiosity and it hooked me hard from the very first episode. the whole school survival vibe? absolutely my thing.

i still remember finishing season 1 and just sitting there, yep, this is going to be my new favorite anime. it had the perfect mix of suspense with excitement that made it impossible to stop watching.

[acupofteaintheafternoon]

Can I request Gumshoe X reader (the reader is Prosecutor and childhood friend to Miles) where gumshoe confess his love to his boss and the reader accepts

Make it head cannon and scenario, if you want to make it both of them.

Thanks :>

(I tried to request on my main account but it was having error so I’m requesting this account instead lol)

Gumshoe confessing his love towards reader

yay i've done a request now i got three left, i think this platform shadowbanned me if it is possible lmao , also i don't think i wrote this scenario corectly

I wonder whose alt account is this hmm

Going back to the subject, you work as a prosecutor and goddamn it, you have to deal with everybody.

First you deal with a flirty german man that will sway your toes (didn’t play Apollo Justice but I bet 100% he is traumatized) and then some old ass man and so on

And then you have Gumshoe which makes your day 10x better with his silliness, it just depends on you right now

You actually have a thing in common with Gumshoe, Edgeworth is friend to both of you (well childhood friend and ‘’work friend’’)

Since you’re a prosecutor automatically that means that Gumshoe works under you (so are all detectives)

Yeah, you will be meeting with him A LOT when he gives you evidence, intel about the crime, etcetera

Funnily enough, HE FALLS IN LOVE WITH YOU

Even though you’re his boss and feel bad about his salary you can’t do dogshit to raise it

Maybe talk it out with Edgeworth and it will work if you pray and beg hard enough

He might give in since you’re both childhood friends but this thing isn’t just about Gumshoe’s salary so feel free to imagine

Okay okay, Gumshoe is surely a specimen when it comes to love

He loves you like his life depends on it and he’s oblivious about it

He is the personal assistant (hehe get it? Wendy Youngbag fanfic ref?) of two people aka you and Edgeworth

Also, he will protect you like his life is on the line if he doesn’t.

Had a bad day? Gumshoe is to cheer you up. Too much work? Gumshoe is coming to help. Dirty ass office? He will clean it up. 

During trials he will help you with everything (even setting him up if you’re that the type of person)

Lowkey, you also began falling in love with him , because of his silliness and good heart. A sweet man

How does he confess? Hard as fuck

Finally, today is the day. He will confess his feelings to you. You’re unaware of what is about to happen and you’re also not ready for the sudden twist of events. Of course, with a lot of emotional and mental preparation he will try and pour his feelings out towards you.

Having no idea about this you went on with your daily shenanigans. Work with a load of work and add more work on top of that. No breaks, just work. Today was a lucky day since you didn't request Gumshoe’s help.

During the last hours of the sun you were there, taking a break and planning to go home. Wellll, it didn't go so well. 

Gumshoe suddenly came in out of nowhere and told you that there was something happening at the park nearby the prosecutor’s office. As the good ol boss that you are, you went to investigate

That’s when the twist happened, when the sun was almost setting down and you both were on a bench he just, confessed to you. After waiting months upon months he finally did it. He poured his feelings towards you.

You did not expect this from one of your fellow employees, hell you did not expect this to come from Gumshoe himself. You were baffled, staggered, even frozen when you heard these. 

It is true, you also had feelings for Gumshoe that’s why you were baffled in the first place. Without any further ado, you accepted his confession, his request of you becoming even closer.

He felt relieved, happy, all in one. He felt a rollercoaster when it came to emotions. Even he can’t explain it.

In the end, he hugged you hard and promised that he will be the best when it came to this (if he already wasn’t good enough to start off with).

[luminarai]

I’ve spent all day trying to figure out whether or not to bid on an apartment and with my stress over my job contract coming to an end, finding a new place to live, making a (what feels like) permanent and life altering purchase re apartment, general anxiety & hatred of things changing, decision paralysis, pms hormones, and brand new adhd diagnosis… I’ve been pulling my poor mom and friends on a rollercoaster ride along my entire emotional spectrum today (all of which were panic tinged in addition).

I think I’ve cried like. 18 times today. Not even at anything specific necessarily. I’m just so goddamn overwhelmed. Thank fuck for patient and lovely friends and family.

[hauntedwoman]

anyways gained an insane amount of followers today uhhhhhh... happy to have u all here & i was tagged by @leopardette & @t4tvampireisms & @orchidscurse to answer some questions so consider this my little introduction post ♥︎

last song: "far too young to die" - panic! at the disco. i don't even have an excuse for this. sorry. last book: "the dangers of smoking in bed" by mariana enriquez that i read for my book club!! last movie: red rocket (2021). this movie is very near and dear to me and i just want to know how sean baker got those shots on the boardwalk bullet bc that goddamn rollercoaster has given me severe whiplash every time i've been on it since i was ten years old. last show: south park</3 last thing i looked up: butters stotch. i wanted to look at pictures of my son :3 sweet/savory/spicy: right now since i'm on day one of my period all i want is anything smothered in chocolate. but i also a spicy tuna roll from my favorite sushi place. and nachos loaded with pulled pork and lots of pico de gallo. u understand. relationship status: looking for a toxic slavic man to completely destroy any desire i have for romantic companionship <3 if i don't find that i am content being a crazy cat lady for the rest of my life. looking forward to: rotting in bed all day tmrw with my heating pad and completely decimating my sleep schedule tonight :3 also i think i'm going to start trying to learn russian! current obsessions: heart shaped objects, building a relationship with my tarot deck, having at least one hour every night without a screen (i call this my "quiet hour") where i write or read or clean my room or complete a task i've been dreading, saving money, oatly barista edition oat milk, becoming more detail oriented, the concept of nostalgia, kurt cobain, roadkill philosophy, and leonard cohen's 1967 album "songs of leonard cohen"

tagging: @libertymai @orpheurdice @proteandisruptor @obsessioncollector and anyone else who wants to do this MWAH

[the-one-where-casey-watches-tv]

Paradise episode 1.07 "The Day"

This show is so close to being great it’s kinda driving me nuts. The pilot had me leaning in- it’s actually one of the better pilots I’ve seen maybe ever. But it’s a bit of a rollercoaster from that point on. On the whole, it has an abrupt and jagged feel. The episodes don’t flow from one to the next; rather, each one builds to a flashy cliffhanger that the following episode has to go back and explain- time that would be better spent laying the groundwork for what’s to come. Episodes 5 and 6 were action packed and dazzling, but it was at the cost of investing the time to really make it make sense.

But this season’s (they’ve been renewed) penultimate episode reminded me of Paradise’s potential. It felt like a special episode in the best way, and in a way you don’t see much anymore. It convinced me to be more forgiving to the previous episodes and see them in a new light. While episodes 5 and 6 served to make Sterling K. Brown’s action hero reel, “The Day” did some much needed character development.

Aside from tense bookends with Xavier and Sinatra, “The Day” unpacks exactly what happened on- there’s no better way to put it- The Day. As in, the day the world ended. The way everything went down felt hyper realistic, which, on top of being terrifying, made all the players incredibly human.

Until now, Xavier has been a machine, and Cal, while charming, has been held at arm’s length from the audience. Dr. Torabi says that Xavier was brought to Paradise because of his character, but we haven’t really seen his tender side. Meanwhile, all we’ve seen of Cal is his tender side. But he’s pissed off more than a few people, including Xavier who said he wouldn’t sleep until Cal was dead. Cal’s charisma is off the charts and his situation with his dementia-ridden bully of a dad tugs at the heartstrings, but in terms of global-scale ethics, we haven’t really seen him do anything yet. “The Day” gives us the full picture of both of these men.

On the day, Xavier is by Cal’s side through it all. His wife Teri is due back from her ill-fated trip to Atlanta but shit hits the fan before her flight takes off. Through frantic news broadcasts and an emergency meeting of top-level White House staff, we learn that a volcanic eruption in Antarctica has triggered massive tsunamis that will cause global destruction within hours.

Overwhelmed but truly a show of strength, Cal braces himself as country after country goes dark, while others ready their nuclear arsenal. Every projection indicated that there would be at least a few days’ notice before disaster was this imminent- before news anchors were being swept away by tidal waves on national television. And yet, every one of his advisors votes to implement Versailles- which we know is the code name for Paradise- right now, today, immediately.

Cal puts it in motion. And it quickly becomes clear to those within the White House that death is imminent for everyone who isn’t a part of a plan that’s already been made. On a personal and national level, the sheer impossibility of Cal’s position is palpable. He tries going by the book, taping a watered-down address that will appear live, but in reality, will air when he’s already well on his way to Paradise. That plus the fact that it “reads like we’re prepping people for a goddamn snowstorm” is too much for him to stomach.

After taking the time to introduce himself to the White House janitor and urge him to be with his family, he realizes he needs to give all of America that same courtesy. He insists on being put back on TV, live and with no script, derailing the Versailles timeline and putting himself at risk in the process.

“My fellow Americans… I know you’re aware of the situation we now face. And I wanna tell you the truth. Our modeling shows imminent worldwide disaster, including here at home. I’m telling you this so that you can make decisions based on where you want to be right now. And who you want to be with… Despite all the ugliness in our world… despite our tendency to focus on the grotesque, and the conflict. Despite all of that, you are inherently decent. You love your families, your parents, your children. And I hope we can find that decency and love now. And if I may be so bold. To all of you watching who have meant something to me personally. Too many to name. I just want to say I love you. And uh… God bless you and good luck.”

I actually think Cal might be my favorite TV president since Jed Bartlet. I love this speech, and it’s abundantly clear that it’s the only thing in his power that he can do for the American people. Not everyone can be saved. Doing anything more would be futile and only serve to assuage his own survivor’s guilt while jeopardizing the people he can save by following the Versailles protocol. So when from here he lets himself be ushered into elevators and helicopters and planes as chaos erupts around him, it’s a show of both humanity and strength. James Marsden actually does an incredible job- the weight of it all is right on his face and you just want to hug him.  

Now let’s talk about Xavier. His anxiety for his family is palpable, but he doesn’t miss a beat on the job. In the few moments he’s able to get through to Teri, he makes sure someone else takes his place beside Cal. He’s beyond efficient, finding Teri’s best chance at making it to the necessary plane and ensuring his kids stay where they need to be.

All the while, he gets Versailles off without a hitch, holding panicked, lower-ranked staffers at bay, and elevating precautionary measures as needed without going overboard. You can really feel the utmost importance of both his family and the task at hand. And he doesn’t neglect either one. But when they get to the plane and Teri hasn’t made it, we finally see the chink in his armor.

He hesitates to board, finally letting it all out on Cal:

“She’s alone. I don’t know where she is. I don’t know who she’s with… I can’t get on that plane without her… She was there [Atlanta] because she didn’t know what was coming... You hinted! You danced around. There was no urgency!... I would have kept her close! I would have prepared. People would have prepared. But instead you played this game… You think you’re brave because you told everybody the world was ending 10 minutes ago?... You should have told us all 10 years ago… Look at what’s happening… Look at what you let happen!”

Xavier’s right to be feeling all of this. But Cal is also right that it is simply an impossible situation. And in a lot of ways, Xavier had more privilege than most, driven home by Cal’s final statement of “If you don’t want a seat on that plane, there’s roughly eight billion people on this planet who will fucking take it.” And he’s right. So Xavier gets on the plane.

To me, this exchange retroactively justifies Xavier’s leap into action in the previous episodes. To go back for a second, episodes 5 and 6 saw Billy’s death spark Xavier to launch a near instantaneous all-out heist against Sinatra. While Billy’s death was suspicious, it felt like a bit of a leap for that alone to justify Xavier’s immediate and extreme reaction.

While that was happening, we learned that Xavier’s daughter Presley has had the President’s missing tablet this entire time (?). After spending some time with Cal’s son Jeremy, they were able to get it open, and they learned of Sinatra’s secret missions to the surface and the killings she ordered of survivors that were found there.  

If they had gotten the tablet open sooner (which would’ve made more sense anyway- why has Presley been doing nothing with it all this time?), and shared its contents with Xavier after Billy’s death, his full throttle attack on Sinatra would be a completely proportionate response.

That all would still have made for much more seamless storytelling, but emotionally, this conversation on the tarmac in “The Day” explains Xavier’s behavior. All this time, Xavier couldn’t separate Cal from losing Teri, but he also knew him more intimately than most. Deep down, he does understand that it was an impossible situation, and he understands that Cal was a single, good-natured individual who had just been shouldered with quite literally the world’s biggest burden. One that he didn’t cause.

But Xavier, too, did everything right. He executed the Versailles protocol to the letter, and at the same time he did everything he possibly could for his family. His rage and grief are perfectly justifiable, it just wasn’t justifiable to direct it all at Cal. So of course he leapt at the chance to let all those pent up feelings out on someone less complicatedly innocent; someone who isn’t simultaneously responsible for the salvation of him and his children. All this time he was a powder keg ready to explode. If anything, it’s a miracle it didn’t happen sooner.

I’d be remiss not to talk about the last few moments of “The Day”, where Cal and Xavier both prove to us that they’re stand-up guys. On a call with the joint chiefs on another plane- one that isn’t going to make it to Paradise- Cal is urged to use the nuclear football to unleash America’s entire arsenal of atomic bombs. Seizing on the chaos from the natural disaster, other countries have fired their own missiles at the US, and if they’re permitted to make contact, they pose a threat to Paradise. Sinatra drives the point home by telling Cal that every modeled potential outcome of the Antarctica volcano ended in nuclear warfare.

But Cal reveals a third option. In addition to firing retaliatory missiles, the nuclear football also gives him the power to essentially shut off every electronic circuit on Earth with the flick of a switch. It would diffuse any atomic bombs that haven’t yet made contact. “It would also take the planet back 500 years. But that was better than the alternative, because it would give people a chance.”

How this doesn’t affect Paradise is a plot hole I’m willing to ignore. Cal takes this option in the face of Sinatra’s increasingly panicked pleas not to do it, to instead kill everyone left on Earth.

Meanwhile, Xavier has managed to get on the phone with Teri. She’s alone and scared and there’s nothing else to do. As far as he knows, he’s watching a nuclear bomb close in on Atlanta on a map. While Cal finally proves to us that he can do something, Xavier, for the first time, can do nothing. With no protocol to follow, no swift action to take, all Xavier can do in this moment is be present with his wife and love her. With tears streaming down his face (and mine) he does just that:

“Hey, I’m here. I’m here… Yeah. You feel me? I’m… I’m holding you right now. I’m protecting you, baby. I got you… I got you… I love you more than anything on this planet. I love you so much, Teri. I love you.”

So all this to say, I have some logistical problems with Paradise. But I’m willing to ride out plot holes if they come alongside emotionally sound and compelling characters. And I’m looking forward to season 2! What about you? Is this the new show to watch? Or do you not get the hype?

[somethingsomethingwords]

Ok so, here is another one. This is a little bit different from what I usually write or even like reading, but alas, sometimes an idea just enters your brain and just doesn't leave. Also this one has a title ig. So here it is. I hope you'll like it. Enjoy 💜

Of course I wanted you to stay

(but you didn't, no you didn't, no you didn't)

Lance was so full of adrenaline he almost dropped the mic. He was shaking from head to toe, but there was a huge grin on his face.

There was no sadness, because even if this was the last concert of the tour, it had been one of his best ones like, ever.

Also he was home, so he knew that after all the crazy partying he would do tonight, tomorrow he'd meet his sister, he'd go to that bakery that sells the best cupcakes, and he'd be able to roam the streets with his thick glasses and ugly beanie and scarf combos, and no one would recognise him.

But still, that's tomorrow. In that moment, there was the encore.

It was always different, so it was always special, but that day even more so. It was composed of three of his older songs, about pain and heartache and moving on despite the past, maybe in spite of it. He loved it very much. Because he was home, singing his first hits and he was ending one of the happiest and saddest tours of his life.

It had started great, new album, in love and energetic. Then he was left behind, alone and with nothing to show for it. Because it had to stay a secret. He had to keep his love secret. He had had no one to complain to, because the only people who knew would have been put in an uncomfortable situation, and he didn't want that. So he hid his hurt and did what he always did. He put it in his music. He sang his pain until the only hurt he could feel was the one in his throat.

It really had been a rollercoaster. But now it was the end, everything was better, and he wanted to send a last fuck you. He may have matured, but nothing would make him lose his pettiness.

So he sang.

Are you sorry like you weren't at the time?

Loving you was easy,

that's why it hurts now

The worst way to love somebody

is to watch them love somebody else

and it works out now

And sang.

Cause someone loved me,

someone fucking loved me

Someone fucking loved me,

I loved him too

Goddamn it, I was worth something,

I fuckin' earned something

I have a right to die, a right to live,

a right to choose, too. And God, no!

Of course I don't wanna feel better!

Can you fucking imagine?!

And sang.

Because, in the end,

you can see how much I loved you

from the fact that I'm fine now

It's a lie, but I say it anyhow

He put every single emotion into these songs, and finally let them go.

When the crowd roared, it all exploded.

He felt a solitary tear wet his face, but nothing could have stolen his smile. He waited for his band, then bowed and left the stage.

The night was young and he was feeling free and wild. And quite hungry, actually.

So he took his band to his favourite pub. They ate, and drank, and ate some more.

On the taxi towards his house, Lance realised that, no matter how much it had hurt, he didn't regret having what he had with Fernando.

Even the tears, even the heartbreak, they all shaped the person he was today.

He liked to think he was loyal, and dependable and kind. But most importantly, he liked to think he was better than the person he was yesterday.

His house appeared, and after paying and tipping the taxi driver, he opened the door.

Yeah, it was big and a little bit empty and a little bit cold. A little bit like his heart. But it was something to be proud of, because it was his, and he was working on it.

---

The next day he really started to rethink all of this rock star thing.

His head pounded with his heartbeat and his mouth tasted rancid.

He got up and drank some water, downing a couple of aspirins for his headache.

After the shower he felt somewhat normal, and decided to go out for breakfast.

He reached his favourite bakery and ordered two pastries to go. He wanted to retreat and lay warmly in front of the fireplace.

Lance noticed him as soon as he stepped out, but he decided to ignore him. His house wasn't that far, he could reach it quickly and without having to talk to him. For once, he wanted to thank whoever made him with long legs.

But even if he could go fast without running, so could the other.

They walked in silence, side by side, for a few minutes.

When the silence and the presence were getting to him, he abruptly stopped and turned towards the other man.

"What do you want?"

Fernando didn't deserve kindness nor gentleness. He forfeited those when he left Lance. Via text. Without explanation and blocking him immediately after.

Lance had spent too many days crying; now he wanted nothing to do with the man.

"Hello Lance. Was just around" he said, as if it explained why he was in Canada and not in England, in Monaco, hell even at home in Spain.

Lance huffed and started moving again, having had more than enough, but stopped when he felt a firm grip on his wrist.

He stared at the hand on his arm with wide eyes, before raising them to Nando's face.

"You have three seconds to either take your hand off or have it broken" he said shakily.

There must have been something in his voice that made the threat a real one, because suddenly he was free again.

"Lance, am sor..." Nando started.

"Shut up before I make you. We can't discuss here, someone could recognise you. Come to my house" surely not his finest moment, but all Lance could feel was fury. Still, he wasn't raising his voice, so he could consider it a win.

you are still protecting him, Este's voice said in his mind.

shut up, of course I am, but what else could he do?

They arrived at his house. He quickly opened the door and closed it when Fernando got in.

"You have no right to come here with your flimsy excuse and expect me to be ok with it. Now, tell me what you want and get the hell out of my house" there, simple and direct.

For a moment, Fernando seemed seriously sorry. But Lance didn't care. He was the one left behind, the one who had to pick up his pieces when he fell apart. He healed as best as he could, and he would not apologise for building up his defences.

"Lance, I am really sorry, for what's worth. I want to explain"

"You are a few months too late. At this point, I don't even know if I care. I only ever asked one thing, Alonso. One. I was ok with being kept a secret, and avoiding being seen together, and the distance. I only asked you to openly communicate and shit like that. You just left without a word" now that he had started, he couldn't seem to stop.

"You knew, I told you why I wanted that. Why I needed you to be honest and open, yet you just disappeared. I had to ask Este, who had to ask Mick. And for what. To be told that you had a new model girlfriend? So no, Alonso, I don't care anymore. It would just reopen old wounds. Now go, I'm sure you have somewhere else to be"

and someone else to be with, it wasn't said but both could hear it.

"That's not right. I have nowhere to go. Am alone, Lance" he said, something hurt and teary in his voice.

Lance was about to replicate, sharp words already on the tip of his tongue, when something in Nando's expression made him stop. His eyes showed how open he was being, how vulnerable.

Lance sighed, and led the man into the living room, making him sit on the couch, while he went into the kitchen and brought back two glasses of water. He would have preferred something stronger, but this felt too important of a moment to have it tainted by alcohol and not being in the right mind.

He sat on the opposite side of the couch, and waited for the other to start talking.

"First of all, am sorry, really. I knew it would hurt you, how I left you, but I did it anyway. And I know you have no reason to believe me or care. Am here because I believe you deserve the truth about everything"

He seemed honest, but Lance wouldn't trust him so easily, not again.

"What are you hoping for with your confession months later, mh? I'm not going to obediently come back to you, waiting to be heartbroken again. You're not gonna fuck me and leave, either. So, what do you want?" he was probably being unfair to the other man, but anger and confusion had never been a good mix of emotions for him.

"Lance, I would never..."

"Like you would never leave, Alonso? Don't make promises you can't keep and don't say things you don't mean" he interrupted, harsh and stubborn.

"You are right. I made promises and then I broke them and betrayed your trust. But I need you to know I had reasons. Not perfect, not good, but I had them" and goddamnit, Lance could feel himself beginning to soften.

just listen to him, said his conscience, suspiciously sounding like Mick.

"Would you care to explain them?" Was he being sarcastic or curious? He himself didn't know.

"Of course. Someone was starting to notice some...changes in me. I was happier, nicer, smiled more. Someone I don't like said something in a way I didn't like. Made me understand that he knew something was up, and would ruin me. So I decided that I needed to protect myself, to protect you. Left you because I couldn't see you. I knew I'm not strong enough to leave you if I saw you"

It all sounded logical, from a certain point of view, but Lance knew there was more, so he waited for the other to continue.

After a few seconds, Fernando raised his eyes, looking at Lance, before turning them down again.

"I didn't like the weakness. All the time, I was thinking about you, wanted you near. It was too much. So I thought I could just stay away, and forget about it"

about you, was left unsaid.

"And can you? Forget about it?" Lance not only wanted to know. He needed to, before going on with the conversation. He could feel his hands beginning to shake and his eyes starting to water, but he had to be sure.

Fernando immediately raised his eyes, and spoke with a tone determined and something like hope in his eyes.

"Of course I can't. I'm here right now, begging for a second chance" he said pleadingly.

"Then beg" Lance said, not meanly, but he also wasn't feeling particularly charitable, and it was better to make some things clear from the beginning: he wasn't going to repeat the same mistakes. He wasn't the young man staring at his teen crush, starry eyed and in love and grateful for every scrap of attention and affection. He was older, maybe a little bit more bitter, a little bit wiser. Fernando left some marks onto his heart, and he wasn't going to refresh them for nothing less than certainty.

"Lance, please give me another chance. I know I fucked up, was so wrong. I'm begging you, let me fix this. However long it takes, is ok. Just, tell me you'll think about forgiving me, and starting again" he was being so earnest, how could Lance resist?

"Even if I forgive you, and it's a big if, I'm not going to forget anytime soon, ok? I'll need time and space and for you to make an effort" he really was weak for this man, but who could blame him, he spent half his childhood idolizing him and then he met him and fell in love.

"Will do whatever it takes. But let me, please"

Realising all the air stuck in his lungs, Lance sighed.

"Ok"

He didn't even finish the word that Fernando picked him up and spun Lance around, making him laugh despite himself.

Fernando finally put him down, and took his hand to kiss it, maintaining the eye contact for a few seconds.

Lance could feel himself blushing, and quickly shook his head, still smiling.

After a few seconds of just getting reacquainted with one another, Fernando broke the silence.

"I liked the show yesterday. Especially the encore"

And now Lance was definitely blushing. His encore had been designed as a way of finally letting go, one last screw you to the man now in front of him. But he couldn't say that to him, even if it was pretty clear.

It would have been childish to throw shades at Fernando in one of his concerts, no?

"Yeah, I was inspired, I guess" his smile smaller but still there.

"Fuck the guy who made you suffer, the bastard" and in his jokingly way, Nando was telling him that he wasn't angry, and that they would be ok.

"Yeah, fuck him"