samuraishima

[samuraishima]

Waited for this only to cry towards the end 😭 Waiting for the next update

Liar Liar (Part 9/?)

Part Nine - Boiling Point // >> Part Eight

🫧pairings: Commander Fox X Female!Reader

🫧word count: 5.4k

🫧Chapter Summary: As things start to get creepy at work, you brace yourself for a world of heartache when you finally come face to face with Fox.

🫧Warnings: Angst, angst and angst. Minor burn injury. Lots of crying (mainly myself)

The next morning, nausea settled deep in your stomach, an unpleasant mix of last night’s drinks, too many sweets, and the lingering weight of everything that had happened. You’d left Pia’s pretty late, more than a little tipsy, and now it felt like your body was punishing you for it.

You lay in bed, staring at the chrono on the wall, watching the minutes tick by. You could call in sick. You could just stay here, curl up under the blankets, and ignore the galaxy for a day. But then what? Tomorrow would come, and you’d still have to face this mess.

With a deep breath, you forced yourself up and shuffled into the refresher. The shower was quick, brisk, and did little to clear the fog in your head. Steam clung to the mirror, and when you wiped it away, your own tired reflection stared back at you; eyes still puffy from crying, lips pressed into a tight line.

“You can do this,” you whispered to yourself.

And that’s when you made up your mind to stay in bed.

Well, that’s what you kept saying that you should have done as you walked down the long and seemingly endless hallways of the facility.

You walked with your head down, keeping your pace quick and not stopping to acknowledge anyone. If they were looking at you, you didn’t want to know.

Then, before you even realised, your feet stopped in front of the office door.

Voices carried from inside. You knew them all, of course. But you didn’t move.

What if he was in there?

What if Thire had told people? What if they were all waiting for you, ready to mock your stupidity? The thought alone made your stomach churn harder. You suddenly felt overheated, suffocated by the walls around you.

A deep, rhythmic thumping pounds in your ears. At first you thought it was just your heart, hammering too fast, but then it grew louder. It didn’t match the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat. No, this was something else. It was coming from somewhere around you.

You blinked, a chill creeping down your spine but the noise stopped just as suddenly as it had started.

You find yourself looking up, eyes scanning the ceiling that carried the ventilaition system everywhere. You felt cold, uncomfortable. Like you were being watched. Perhaps it was your paranoia, perhaps it was-

“Hey, you alright?” You nearly jumped out of your skin. Whipping around, you saw Thire standing there, watching you closely.

“Uh—yeah, I was just…” Your voice faltered. The words wouldn’t come. It felt impossible to even look at him.

Thire studied you for a moment before resting a firm hand on your shoulder. “C’mere for a second.”

You didn’t protest, letting him steer you away from the flow of clones and officers passing through the corridor. He led you toward a supply closet, opening the door and motioning for you to step inside before closing it behind him.

For a moment, you both just stood there. The dim lighting made the small space feel even tighter.

Thire pulled off his bucket, tucking it under his arm before meeting your gaze. His brows furrowed slightly. “How are you feeling about… y’know?”

You exhaled sharply, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “Like absolute bantha crap.”

Thire sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I bet. But I promise that I haven’t said a word to anyone.”

You nodded, letting out a slow breath. “Thanks.”

“Didn’t know a damn thing about it either,” he admitted. “None of us did.”

That made you look up. “Really?”

He shook his head. “I swear. If I had any idea what Fox was doing, I would’ve called him out on it. We all would have.” His jaw tightened slightly. “That’s… not how we do things.”

Something in your chest eased, just a little. You wanted to believe him, needed to. Because if the others had known, if they’d just let it happen, that would have made it so much worse.

“I appreciate that,” you say quietly.

Thire nodded again, then frowned slightly. “You don’t have to be here today, you know. If you need time, I can cover for you.”

Your first instinct was to brush it off, to say you were fine. But the truth was, you weren’t. And right now, the thought of sitting at your station, pretending like everything was normal, felt unbearable.

“…I might take you up on that,” you admitted.

Thire nodded in understanding but hesitated for a moment before adding, “If you don’t want to stay home however, it might comfort you to know that Fox probably won’t be around the office today. I’m pretty sure he’s running a perimeter sweep in the lower levels with Thorn.”

You mulled over the options. If you stayed at work, you could at least put on a brave face—and knowing Fox wouldn’t be around eased some of the tightness in your chest. On the other hand, if you went home, you’d probably just curl up in bed, cry, and eat something deep-fried and regrettable.

“Okay,” you said, mustering some conviction. “I’ll stay for a bit. Just see how it goes.”

Thire’s face lit up with a smile, and he clapped you on the arm before leading the way out of the supply closet. You stuck close behind him as the door to the office slid open. Your eyes instinctively flicked to the back of the room, where Fox’s desk sat, empty, just as Thire had said. You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding.

Stone, spinning lazily in his chair, perked up at the sight of you both. “There you are! I thought I was gonna be all on my lonesome today.” He propped his feet up on the console with exaggerated relief.

“If you were, would you actually do any work?” you teased, walking past him and swiping his boots off the console with a quick flick of your hand.

He smirked, completely unashamed. “Probably not.”

Thire rolled his eyes, moving to his station as he muttered, “At least he’s honest.”

You sat down at your usual spot, shifting in your chair, trying to settle into the rhythm of things. But before you could fully drown yourself in work, Stone let out a dramatic groan.

“Kriff’s sake, Thire, did you seriously input the wrong data again ?”

Thire’s head snapped up. “What?”

“This!” Stone gestured aggressively at his screen. “This entire patrol schedule is wrong! The rotations are out of sync. Look, the timestamps are off.”

Thire scoffed, already pulling up his own display. “That’s not possible. I double-checked before submitting it.”

“Yeah? Then explain why we have got troopers patrolling two different levels at the same time when they’re supposed to be covering opposite ends of the facility?” Stone spun his chair toward Thire, arms crossed.

Thire frowned, squinting at his own screen. “That… doesn’t make any sense. I logged everything exactly as it was assigned.”

“Well, someone kriffed it up, and it wasn’t me.”

“It sure as the Maker wasn’t me!” Thire shot back, indignant.

“Oh? So it just magically changed itself, did it?”

“I’m saying maybe you messed with it and didn’t realise—”

“I never mess up reports,” Stone cut in dramatically, placing a hand over his chest like he was some kind of martyr. “Thorn tells me so.”

“That’s the biggest exaggeration I have heard.” Thire deadpanned.

You tried to suppress a laugh as they continued their pointless, but it was no use.

And it was exactly what you needed.

For the first time that day, the weight in your chest lifted. “Okay, okay,” you interrupted, grinning as you shook your head at them both. “Which one of you actually wants to check the system logs instead of arguing like a bunch of shinies?”

Stone and Thire both turned to look at you, then at each other.

“…You do it,” they said at the same time.

You groaned, but there was a small smile on your lips as you pulled up the data. Maybe today wouldn’t be so unbearable after all.

⋅───⊱༺  🦊 ༻⊰───⋅

The system was a disaster.

Patrols were scattered haphazardly, leaving critical areas completely unguarded, and nothing seemed to match up with the official assignments. Even Thire who could be forgetful truth be told, was never this careless. He definitely wouldn’t have made an error like this. None of the would have.

You had spent about an hour sorting through the mess, rerouting troopers, and sending Thire and Stone off on a mission to explain the changes to officers stationed across the facility.

The work was frustrating but effective in keeping your mind occupied. It kept your hands busy, your thoughts focused. For a while, you weren’t dwelling on him .

You were in the middle of cross-referencing the schedules when the office door hissed open. You barely registered it, too absorbed in your task until something warm and wet dragged across your cheek.

“ What the—?! ”

Before you could react, a heavy weight crashed into your lap, nearly knocking you out of your chair. A deep, rumbling growl—more like a pleased huff—filled your ears, followed by another enthusiastic swipe of a tongue across your face.

“Grizzer!” you cooed, with a laugh reaching up to give the beast a cuddle. He wriggled happily, tail thumping against the floor as he nuzzled into you.

“You spoil him,” Hound drawled, stepping up beside you with an amused chuckle. He reached down, wrapping a hand around Grizzer’s thick collar and gently pulling him off before the slobber completely drenched your uniform.

You smirked, wiping your cheek with your sleeve. “I amthe only one who sneaks him treats.”

Hound rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and now every time we pass the supply closet, he thinks he’s getting a snack.” He gave Grizzer a pat before motioning for him to lie down.

As Hound straightened up, his gaze flickered toward your screen. “Have you noticed something’s been weird with the system?” he asked, arms crossing over his chest. “I noticed that some of the patrol patterns aren’t matching up with assigned sectors, and there are gaps where there shouldn’t be.”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “Yeah, we’ve been dealing with that mess all morning.” You tapped at your screen, pulling up a few of the more obvious errors. “Thire swears he submitted everything correctly, and honestly, I believe him. This isn’t just a mistake—it’s like someone has actually tampered with it.”

Hound’s brow furrowed, gaze darkening slightly. “You think it was intentional?”

You hesitated. You hadn’t wanted to go that far, but… “I don’t know. Maybe. It just doesn’t make sense.”

He was quiet for a moment, studying the data. Then, shifting his weight, he cleared his throat.

“So… uh.” His tone changed, noticeably more awkward. “How’s it going with that ‘Whisky’ guy?”

Your heart clenched.

For a split second, you didn’t move, staring blankly at the flickering lights of your console as reality came crashing back down. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your voice even.

“Oh that? Yeah, uh, it’s not going to work out,” you said finally, still avoiding his gaze.

Hound frowned, head tilting slightly. “Why?”

You didn’t want to say. You didn’t want to talk about it so you tried to play it off although there was a bitter truth behind your answer; “He… wasn’t who I thought he was,” you said simply, hoping that would be enough. “I’d rather just leave it at that.”

But Hound’s response wasn’t what you expected. He exhaled through his nose, gaze dropping for just a second—like he was bracing for something. And when he looked back up at you, there was something guilty in his expression.

A terrible, creeping feeling clawed its way into your chest.

Slowly, you turned to face him fully, pulse starting to race. Your mind drifts to him and Fox in the hangar. Angry, intense. When you questioned Hound about it he said it was about a patrol but now you think it’s something else entirely. And then, you remember the rumour about yourself and the Commander and how Hound was the one who first thought it…

Oh no.

Your mouth runs dry. “Hound,” you say, daringly quiet, “do you know something?”

Hound hesitated. Just for a second. But that was enough. The look on his face said everything.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He knew.

Hound had known .

You shot up from your chair so fast it scraped against the floor. Your hands curled into fists at your sides as a choked sound of frustration escaped you, your voice shaking with restrained anger. “You knew?”

Hound held his hands up in defense, already backpedaling. “I—listen—”

“You knew that ‘Whisky’ was Fox, and you didn’t tell me?”

“ I tried! ” he blurted. “I tried pressuring him into telling you the truth, but you know what he’s like—he wouldn’t listen to me!”

Your teeth clenched, fury twisting in your stomach. “So what, you just let me walk into it blind? Let me sit there, talking about him, falling for him while you just—”

“I didn’t want you to hear it from me!” Hound cut in, frustrated. “It wasn’t my place. But, I told him if he didn’t tell you soon that I would tell you.”

You turned away sharply, dragging a hand through your hair as you tried to breathe through the burning heat behind your eyes. Your chest felt tight, your thoughts a cyclone of anger, hurt, and betrayal.

Hound sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I know you’re upset. I get it. I should’ve done something else, but I thought if I pushed him hard enough, he’d tell you.”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. Your voice, when you finally spoke, was raw. “I can’t believe you.”

Hound didn’t argue. He didn’t try to make excuses or smooth it over. He just stood there, jaw clenched, shoulders squared like he was standing at attention, ready to take whatever you threw his way.

“So… he did tell you then? In the end?”

You dragged your sleeve across your cheek to swipe away a stray tear, breathing out bitterly. “No. Thire and Pia did. Total accident.”

Hound’s brows shot up. “Thire knows?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. “Not at first. He caught us out together, dropped Fox’s name by mistake, and then Pia put the final nail in the coffin.”

You stared at the console, unable to meet Hound’s eyes. “It all just unraveled from there. A stupid accident.”

Hound’s heavy steps closed the distance as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry. I really thought Fox would step up and tell you.”

You let out a sharp, humourless laugh, your voice tight. “Yeah, well, you’d think the Commander of the Guard would have the guts to say the truth.”

Before the weight of the conversation could sink any deeper, the office door hissed open and in stomped Thire and Stone mid-argument.

You and Hound instantly stepped apart, both snapping back into something resembling professionalism. You smothered your emotions under a mask, hoping neither of them noticed how tense you were. If Thire had clocked anything, he didn’t show it.

Stone sighed dramatically, flopping into a chair like he’d been through battle. “I need a drink. Or a caf. Or five.” You watch in disbelief as he turned his big, pleading eyes toward you like you were his only hope.

You raised an unimpressed brow, arms still crossed tightly over your chest. “Are you seriously giving me that look?”

Stone gave you his most pitiful expression. “I’ve been on my feet for hours.”

Your jaw dropped. “Me ? I’ve just been sat here for hoursuntangling the entire system while you’ve been off playing hide-and-seek with Thire!” You jabbed a finger toward your cluttered screen. “I saved your shebs.”

Stone clutched his chest like you had wounded him. “Ouch. ” He turned to Thire as if seeking backup, but Thire just smirked and shook his head.

You pointed to the dusty old caf machine in the corner. “There. It’s unloved, but it still works.”

Stone scrunched his nose like you’d offered him poison. “That machine tastes like regret.”

“Exactly,” you deadpanned. “Go make your own ‘regret’.”

He pouted harder, and you finally sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Fine. Fine! I’ll go,” you muttered, grabbing your datapad and standing. “I could use a walk anyway.”

“You’re the best,” Stone grinned.

“Uh-huh,” you replied dryly, heading for the door.

As you stepped out into the hallway, the quiet clatter of the office door sealing behind you, you let yourself breathe for the first time in what felt like hours. The office drama was one thing, but the storm in your chest about Fox and now Hound… that wasn’t going to be so easy to walk off.

Still, the fresh air of the hallway and the promise of a decent cup of caf were better than sitting in that office for another second.

The corridors were quiet as you made your way toward the caf vendor tucked away in one of the facility’s less-trafficked wings. Your boots echoed faintly against the floor, the faint hum of overhead lights your only friend.

As you’re about to turn into a junction, something caught your eye.

A vent, about two meters up the wall, slammed shut.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your breath catching as you whipped your head toward it. The corridor was still, not a sound, but you were sure you saw it move.

Slowly, you stepped a little closer, peering up at it, but nothing stirred. No air, no voices, just the faint rattle of an old air unit kicking in somewhere deeper in the ducts.

You rubbed your eyes, feeling the lingering heaviness from last night. “Great,” you muttered under your breath, “still drunk.”

Shaking your head, you pushed the paranoia down and kept moving. You’d probably just imagined it. Stress, fatigue, and the emotional wreckage were jsut playing tricks on you.

At the caf vendor, your attention went back to your little mission, punching in each order like you were disarming a bomb. One strong and black for Thire, caf with a triple shot and a splash of cream for Stone, plain and standard for Hound, and your usual sweeter blend.

As you made your way back, four very hot cafs carefully balanced on a tray, you passed the same hallway where the vent had - or as you imagined - slammed shut earlier. Instinctively, you slowed down, eyes flickering up to the wall.

The vent sat still. Silent.

You hesitated, listening carefully. Not even the hum of a servomotor. No scurrying sounds. Nothing.

“Just your imagination,” you told yourself, forcing your feet to keep moving.

Still, even as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the chill.

You pushed through the heavy silence of the hallway, cafs balanced carefully as you made your way back toward the office. But as the door hissed open, you froze in the threshold.

Your stomach sank like a anchor.

Fox stood there, voice sharp and echoing off the walls as he barked at Thire and Stone. His helmet tilted toward them, rage practically dripping from him. “I step away for one day, and the whole system goes to hell! How hard is it to follow protocol?”

But the words didn’t fully land in your mind. Your eyes were locked on him, dread curling in your stomach as the room seemed to close in around you. The first time seeing him since everything fell apart, and the sight of him stole the air right from your lungs. And not in a good way.

Thire caught your eye first, his expression crumbling into a look of guilt and apology. Clearly, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Clearly, Thire had been wrong about Fox being absent today.

You barely registered Stone throwing up his hands defensively or Hound standing stiff in the corner.

Fox didn’t notice you at first—until the end of his tirade, when his helmet turned and he spotted you standing there, frozen. He jolted slightly, visor locking on you in stunned silence.

Your heart slammed against your ribs as your hand trembled, the tray rattling slightly. Before you could get a grip, the whole thing slipped sideways. The cups tumbled and hot caf splashing onto one of the consoles and, worse, onto your hand.

A sharp, broken whimper escaped you as the boiling liquid burned your skin.

Hound moved fast, rushing toward you. His voice was somewhere distant, muffled like you were underwater.

But you couldn’t process it.

You were already backing out the door, breath caught in your throat, and then you were gone—running down the hallway.

The nearest refresher was barely around the corner. You stumbled inside and slammed the door behind you, collapsing against the sink. Sobs raked through your chest as you fumbled to get the tap on, hurriedly shoving your hand under the freezing stream of water.

The burn throbbed beneath the chill, but it was nothing compared to the ache inside you.

You stared at your burned hand, your skin already red and irritated under the running water. But then your gaze dropped to your wrist—the bracelet. The one Fox had given you only yesterday, still fastened snugly like a cruel reminder.

Your chest tightened, rage boiling beneath your ribs. Without thinking, you yanked it off and you slammed it to the floor. Frustration choked you as you gasped, tears spilling faster now.

Then it came—the thumping.

Heavy and low at first, but it crept around you, up in the walls above and behind, like something alive was moving in the ducts. The sound made your breath hitch, heart pounding against your ribs.

“Stop it, stop it…” you whispered through gritted teeth, pressing your palms to your temples, convinced you were spiraling. “It’s just in your head. It’s just your head.”

But the thumping kept going, getting louder, vibrating through the durasteel panels. Then—suddenly—it cut out, vanishing like it had never been there at all.

Your blood felt like ice as you stared at the ceiling, waiting for it to return.

A sharp knock at the refresher door broke the silence, making you flinch. The noise from the walls stayed gone, leaving only the sound of your ragged breathing.

You swallowed hard, blinking down at your trembling hands. Your mouth was bone-dry, your mind spinning. It had to be Hound, you had see him coming for you back in the office.

Before you could muster the words to answer, the door hissed open behind you.

“I don’t want to see anyone, Hound,” you mumbled, voice broken.

“How about myself?”

Your eyes snapped up to the mirror above the basin—and there he was. Fox. Standing just inside the door.

Your stomach twisted violently, blood roaring in your ears. “Get out,” your voice was low but shaking.

“We need to talk,” Fox said, calm but firm, stepping further inside.

You spun to face him fully, eyes burning. “Now’s not the best time, so just leave me alone!” Your words echoed in the small room, your breath coming in hard and fast.

Fox didn’t move. Instead, he stepped closer, standing right beside you as though the tension between you didn’t weigh down the air. His gloved hand reached out and quietly adjusted the tap, turning it from cold to lukewarm.

“It’s better this way for burns,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “You should head to the medbay.”

You clenched your jaw, staring daggers into the mirror. “Thanks for the advice,” you snapped, your voice sharper now. “Now go.”

Still, he didn’t budge. His reflection loomed beside yours, visor blank but heavy with everything he wasn’t saying. “I’m not leaving,” he said quietly but with that quiet, stubborn authority you’d heard so many times before—except now, it made your skin crawl.

You step back, just out of arm's reach. “Why? So you can lie to me some more?”

Fox’s shoulders squared as though your words physically hit him. “I never wanted to lie to you,” he replied, voice edged with guilt. “You think this has been easy for me?”

You laughed bitterly. “Oh, poor you.” You shook your head in disbelief. “You had a thousand chances to tell me the truth.”

“I know.” He sighs behind his helmet, “I should have told you sooner.”

“You think? ” you barked. “You let me make a fool of myself. I trusted you! I opened up to you and told you everything about me. I was honest and kind, thinking you were—” you bit down on the lump in your throat, voice trembling, “—thinking you were someone else.”

Fox stood frozen, stunned into silence, mouth parted like he had words to offer but couldn’t find any.

You stared at the sink, focusing on the dripping tap as you tried to even out your breathing. Slowly, you straightened your shoulders, forcing yourself to face him again, eyes burning with determination.

“Take it off.”

His posture stiffened, head snapping up. “What?”

“Your helmet.” You nodded toward it, voice sharp but calm. “Take it off.”

Fox hesitated. You could see it in the slight twitch of his fingers. He wasn’t used to taking orders from anyone who wasn’t a General or the Senate, but the way you were looking at him—hurt, angry, betrayed… it cut through his pride.

He finally moved, his gloved hands lifting the helmet, hands barely steady as he removed it and tucked it under his arm. He didn’t look at you, eyes cast to the floor as if the weight of your pain was too much to face.

And as you stared at him, you realised you didn’t know why you asked. Maybe you were still desperately clinging to the hope that Thire and Pia had somehow been wrong, that this would reveal someone else, someone who just resembled Fox.

But there he was. A face you spent swooning over, eyes you had wiped away tears of laughter with, lips you almost…And now it looked so much heavier, pulled down by guilt.

“You can’t even look at me.”

Fox’s head lifted immediately, eyes meeting yours, his grip tightening on the helmet at his side. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you did.” Your voice cracked.

He flinched at that, eyes softening as if he were searching for words. “I know,” he breathed. “I know, I… I don’t know why I let it get this far. I kept telling myself I’d tell you the truth, but I just… got caught up.”

“I told you my own truths,” you said, voice rising. “I trusted you. I let you in. And you decided I didn’t deserve the same.”

“That’s not what I wanted—”

“You didn’t say a lot.” You cut him off sharply. Your throat was tight with tears threatening to fall. “Was it all just some test? To find out how I really felt about you so you had to come up with some stupid, fake alias to what? To fire me? Because if you never liked me all you had to do was just fire me from the get go.”

“I do like you,” he exasperates, “if i didn’t like you I wouldn’t have taken you to that meadow, I wouldn’t have-”

“Lied?”

He stills and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I didn’t want to lie.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “But you did.” you repeat. “Was… was anything you said to me true? About your future, about how you…” your voice faltered, suddenly quieter, “...how you felt about me…”

Your eyes burned as you trailed off, remembering the first night he’d told you that you were beautiful.

But Fox said nothing. Just stared at you with that same, helpless expression.

His silence stretched just a moment too long.

“Just go,” you breathed, voice thick. “Please.”

“No, wait-”

“I’m done talking, Commander.”

He blinks, and takes a small step closer. “Please call me Fox.”

“Why?” You cry, “I wasn’t able to before, what’s changed?”

Stars, he hated seeing you cry in front of him. More to the point that he was the reason for your tears. “Everything… and I don’t want to leave you like this. You’re hurt.”

“It’s just a burn.” You mutter, turning your gaze away.

“I wasn’t referring to that.”

You sigh, angrily wiping away the tears you had let slip. “Sorry for crying.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.” He states.

“You do.” You swiftly retort. “And I’m waiting.”

He shifts in his spot, the brutalness of your words almost scary if not impressive. “I am sorry.”

You scoff. “You're apologising because I asked you to. Not because you wanted to.”

“Wha-?”

“You can leave now.” Your voice was firm, unwavering, even as your fingers trembled slightly against your injured hand. You turned away from him, nursing the burn as though it was the only wound that mattered. “Also, I’m going to put in for a transfer.”

Fox stepped forward again, close enough that his breath stirred against the nape of your neck. “Don’t do that.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, switching off the water. “Do you even realise the position you’ve put me in, Commander?” His title dripped from your tongue like poison as you lifted your gaze to the mirror, meeting his reflection instead of facing him directly. “I can’t even stand to be in the same room as you. I can’t work for you.”

Fox already looked like a man who had been gutted and left to bleed out, but at your words, he flinched, swallowing thickly. “You won’t even know I’m there. I’m too busy dealing with Rik Walder—he’s still loose, and if I hadn’t been so distracted, maybe he never would have—”

Your slow, deliberate turn toward him cut his words dead in his throat.

His mouth snapped shut, the realisation hitting him. Now he had finally said too much rather than too little.

Fox cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably, guilt rolling off of him in waves. “Not that… that was your fault, of course.”

“Out. ” Your voice was cold, final.

He exhaled, defeated, lifting his helmet and sliding it back into place. You watched as his shame disappeared behind the familiar T-shaped visor, the last traces of vulnerability sealed away. He turned for the door, but something on the floor caught his eye.

Fox bent down, retrieving the small, discarded object, and when he rose, he turned to you once more. “I gave you this.”

You barely spared a glance at the bracelet dangling from his fingers, but the sight of it still sent a sharp pang through your chest. For the briefest moment, guilt gnawed at the edges of your anger. But then you remembered.

Who he said he was.

Who he said he wasn’t.

Your lips pressed into a thin line before you met his gaze through his visor. “I’m sure you’ve given plenty of these to other women you’ve tricked.”

Fox inhaled sharply. He took a step closer, voice low, almost pleading as he said your name. “There was never anyone else.” His fingers curled around the bracelet, gripping it like a lifeline. “It was always you.”

Your breath hitched, throat tightening. But, you shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “Somehow… that doesn’t sound as nice as you think it does.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy, suffocating.

Fox glanced down at the bracelet in his palm, then back at you. When he spoke again, his voice was strained. “Please… keep it.”

You hesitated. Just for a moment. But then, you shook your head. “I can’t.”

His shoulders sagged, the last bit of fight leaving him. He nodded once, accepting the loss. "Get your hand checked, please."

Then without another word, Fox turned and left, his footsteps heavy as the refresher door hissed shut behind him.

The moment he was gone, your breath hitched violently, a choked sob tearing its way free. Your good hand clamped over your mouth, shoulders trembling as tears burned their way down your cheeks.

Meanwhile, Fox strode back toward the office, back straight, shoulders squared, as though he could will himself to be unaffected. The bracelet, now a cruel reminder of everything lost, was silently tucked into one of the pouches on his belt.

A single tear slipped down his cheek, hidden behind the cold, unfeeling mask of his helmet.

"I was still me."

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[samuraishima]

This is getting good 😊❤️

Liar Liar (Part 2/?)

🫧 Part Two - Reflection // <<< Part One

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female Reader

🫧 word count: 1.4k

🫧 Chapter Summary: When this ‘Whisky’ does not leave your mind, you find yourself distracted at work. Fox, however, needs to speak with you. He just does not know how to.

🫧 Warnings: Safe for work, Fox is apologetic, but the lying continues. Some nice fluff between reader and Fox. Caf is the pick me up we all need - especially Fox. Hound is suspicious.

🫧 Authors note: just a small chapter this time, support is very much appreciated ❤️

 The next day, your mind keeps drifting back to last night.

The way Whisky had looked at you, the smoothness of his voice, and that smirk that had sent warmth curling through your chest all night long. More than once, you catch yourself smiling, only to quickly wipe away your expression when one of the boys walks past. 

You weren’t embarrassed, not exactly, but the last thing you needed was to be on the receiving end of their relentless teasing. For now, this little secret remained hush hush.

Still, the day flies by in a blur. You’re as efficient as ever, never slacking on your work, but there’s a part of you that remains distracted. It isn’t until you finally sit down for a moment to relax your legs from running around all morning that Thire saunters up to you, his voice light and sing-song as he calls your name.

“What are you up to?” you ask, eyeing the sheepish look on his face.

He rubs the back of his neck. “I was wondering if you could grab some caf for me and the boys. We need a boost.”

You glance toward the caf machine shoved into the corner of the long desk, strategically placed out of view in case anyone higher up decided to crack down on ‘unnecessary’ luxuries. “Do your legs not work? What’s wrong with the machine?”

“It’s fine, just… we need something better.” His expression shifts, something thoughtful lingering in his eyes. “And Fox seems…”

You tilt your head. “Seems what?”

“Quiet.”

You blink. “He’s always quiet.”

“No, I know that.” Thire frowns, arms crossing over his chest. “But he’s really quiet. Have you spoken to him today?”

You think for a moment, then shake your head. “I dropped off some reports this morning, but he didn’t look up. Figured he was just busy.”

Thire hums, unconvinced. “I think he needs a pick-me-up.”

You sigh, already resigned to your fate. “Alright, fine. One caf run, coming up.”

Thire grins, quickly handing you a list—and credits to cover it. The list is longer than you expected, but for them, you’d do just about anything.

When you return, the scent of freshly brewed caf curling in the air, you barely get a moment to set the tray down before the boys descend on it. Some thank you with genuine appreciation, others just grab their cups with a quick nod, but soon enough, only one remains.

Fox’s.

You glance around the room, searching for the commander. “Where’d Fox go?”

Hound, already halfway through his caf, doesn’t even look up as he answers. “Got called to escort the Supreme Chancellor.”

You frown. “Great. Now his caf is going to get cold.”

Hound snorts, finally meeting your gaze. “He’d drink it if it was spilled on the floor.”

You huff, staring down at Fox’s caf like it personally offended you. After all that effort, it would be a shame for it to go to waste. And you certainly didn’t want him to drink it cold as some type of punishment after he had just been dealing with the Chancellor. 

Looking around, you weigh up your options.

The barracks weren’t exactly equipped with fancy caf warmers, but your eyes landed on the small stash of insulated containers the boys sometimes used for long shifts or out of office missions. 

That could work.

Grabbing an empty flask from the shelf, you pour Fox’s caf into it, screwing the lid on tight to keep it warm. Satisfied, you set it aside, drumming your fingers against the desk.

Hound was watching you with a smirk. “Didn’t realise you were so invested in the commander’s caf habits.”

You roll your eyes. “I just don’t like waste. If I went all that way to get it, I want him to actually drink it.”

Hound hums, clearly unconvinced.  “Right. Just being a good coworker.”

You huff but don’t argue. It wasn’t like Fox was your favourite person in the Guard. He was strict, grumpy, and half the time barely acknowledged you and when you did you always left in a bad mood. But still, you knew how hard he worked. If a warm cup of caf made his day a little easier, then what was the harm?

The rest of the day passed in a blur, though your thoughts kept drifting—more often than they should—to Whisky. You found yourself glancing toward the hangar every time you passed by when on another errand, half-hoping to catch a glimpse of him among the mechanics. But the never-ending pile of work kept you firmly in place.

Even when you thought you had a moment to escape, Thorn appeared with a fresh file—an incident report on a new prisoner in the military base that needed to be reviewed before being passed to Fox. So much for sneaking away.

Still, you wondered if Whisky had thought about you too. You hoped so.

"Afternoon."

The unexpected voice pulls you from your thoughts. You look up to see Commander Fox standing in the doorway—stance stiff as ever, though there’s something oddly hesitant about the way he lingers.

You stand out of respect and offer a small smile. "Hello. I'm just reviewing a report from Thorn for you. I won’t be long." Already, you’re moving to finish up, assuming he just wants you out of the way. But to your surprise, he doesn’t seem in a rush.

"I can take over if you’d like."

Your hand stills on the device, caught off guard. You slowly lower yourself back into your seat. "Oh, that’s okay. Hound mentioned you had a busy day."

Fox tilts his head slightly, and for a split second, you worry he’s taken your comment the wrong way.

"I just meant," you quickly add, "I know you work harder than anyone, and you don’t get a lot of breaks. I figured you’d be exhausted, that’s all."

He exhales, a long breath through the modulator. "Busy is an understatement," he mutters, stepping further into the room.

His gaze sweeps over your desk, pausing on something off to the side.

"That for me?"

It takes you a second to realise what he means, but then you spot the flask of caf. Your face warms at the realisation that he noticed since you were going to place it on his personal desk after you had finished this report. "Oh. Yeah," you say, suddenly sheepish. "I, uh, figured you’d need it."

He reaches for the drink as you hold it out to him, his gloved fingers brush against yours—just briefly—but it still makes your breath hitch for a second. He was acting differently and you were uncertain as to why.

"You didn’t have to do that," he murmurs.

You shrug, glancing away. "I know."

A beat of silence. Normally, he would have left by now. Instead, he lingers.

Then, something unexpected.

"Thank you." His voice is quieter this time, softer in a way you don’t often hear from him.

Your eyes flick back up to his visor, searching for something though you’re not sure what. "It's okay. You should thank Thire, really. He’s the one who sent me on the caf run."

Fox makes a small, amused sound. "He couldn’t have just used the machine?"

You scoff. "That’s exactly what I said! But apparently it isn’t good enough so I was the lucky one chosen to fetch it."

Fox hums, nursing the cup in his hand. "That tracks. They act like that thing spits out engine coolant."

You laugh. "To be fair, have you ever actually tasted it?"

He pauses, as if considering. "I prefer not to risk my life unnecessarily."

"Right, because dodging blaster fire daily is the safer alternative."

His chuckle is warm, even through the modulator. "Point taken."

But then, his tone shifts.

"I also wanted to apologise."

That catches you off guard. You blink, tilting your head. "For what, Commander?"

He shifts slightly, looking away for a brief moment before speaking. "I... I’ve realised that my attitude toward you has been harsher than it should be. And you don’t deserve that."

Your lips part, surprised. Where was this coming from?

"Commander, has someone said something? Because I—"

"No one said anything." He cuts in quickly, shaking his head. "Just… some self-reflection. I appreciate what you do for this squad."

A part of you wants to get up and hug him, but you stay rooted to your seat, your mouth suddenly dry as you process his words. Maybe Whisky had said something after last night’s conversation. But Fox didn’t strike you as the kind of man who would let just anyone put him in his place—at least, not unless it came from someone he truly trusted.

Still, you smile, warm and genuine. "Thank you, Commander. That... means a lot."

Fox only nods before turning and walking out without another word, leaving you sitting there, wondering where this sudden shift in him had come from.

Part One - 79’s

Part Two - Reflection

Part Three - Sniffed Out

Part Four - Dreams

Or read on AO3 here for more parts ♥️

please reblog to support your content creators ♥️

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[samuraishima]

Cannot help but re-reading this 🥰 It's too good

Never eat a furry beet and other valuable life lessons

Chapter 4 of Le Coeur

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Next chapter (coming soon!) | Previous chapter

Chapter summary: When Nea invites Steb over to her apartment for the first time, a quiet movie night results in both Nea and Blu getting tipsy.

Tags/warnings: Steb x Original Female Character, other OCs are in the fic as well. Canon divergence, flirting, pining, crushes, teasing, fluff, alcohol consumption and mild drunkenness.

Word count: 7.2k

Music: how many times, le coeur

A/N: Happy new year 2025, everyone! Sorry for taking longer with this chapter. I would have written this quicker, but I got a gigantic cold and only had so much brain space. Anyways, thank you to everyone who reads this and to the lovely people who comment. You all give me so much life 💖

To be the pastry chef of the Coffeewick meant being up considerably earlier than most of the people in Piltover. Blu was so used to it that she would often be awake that early even if it was a day off, and while most would whine about an early schedule, Blu cherished the opportunity to see the sky getting brighter with the sunrise. Her fuzzy, mouse-like ears would twitch in the direction of bird song, and her feet would carry her around in little dances in front of the oven while the pastries baked, oftentimes without her even realizing her acts. She could tell what time it was by the amount of people walking outside the coffee shop and the sounds that came from the street as well as from the Coffeewick's second story; Blu was all too familiar with the sound of water running through the pipes within the walls letting her know that Nea was already awake.

On that particular day, the water began running through the pipes about an hour sooner than it usually did, and the moment it began sounding, Blu stood completely still and stared at the spot in the wall where the pipes hid behind with her brows furrowed together like her own knitting needles. Had Nea mentioned she'd be up earlier? If so, for what? Blu could recall every detail from her century-and-a-bit-more of life, but she didn't recall Nea mentioning anything about getting up exactly one hour before she usually did on that day. Blu shrugged it off and continued her own activities, figuring she'd eventually find out the reason behind Nea's sudden change in habit.

But the next thing that caught Blu's attention was that, despite Nea having gotten up a whole hour before, she didn't head downstairs to begin prepping the Coffeewick earlier. It would seem that Nea's spare hour would be dedicated to her place, and Blu could pick up sounds of steps and shuffling from upstairs in the meantime, but it was hard to guess what Nea was doing without getting too creative or too dull. She could have been doing anything from getting a head start on cleaning to rearranging the apartment to house a dragon egg—one wouldn't know until they saw Nea's place.

There was some idle time in which her pastries would only sit in the oven and bake, and Blu decided to head up the stairs and figure out what was going on with Nea. She gave three gentle knocks on the door before opening it and letting herself in, and at first glance, Nea's apartment was unchanged. Squinting her eyes in mild suspicion, Blu stood under the doorframe and looked around, finding telltale signs of Nea's antics from furniture surfaces without a spot of dust on them to the faint scent of cinnamon-apple that filled the apartment. Finally, Nea emerged from her bedroom looking fully ready to head down to work, and she smiled brightly at Blu when she noticed the Yordle standing there.

"I'm just about to head down," Nea said.

"I heard you were up earlier," Blu stated.

"Yeah," Nea confirmed nonchalantly.

"So, what gives?" Blu put her Yordle paws on her hips. "You never clean before work, and even when you do clean, you never leave the place looking so..." Blu looked around the apartment again as she searched for the correct words. "Effortlessly perfect."

"Thanks," Nea smiled. "I was going for that."

Blu raised a brow. "But why?"

Nea's look of relaxed confidence turned into that of a puppy who'd just made a mess on the carpet and knew he was in for a spanking. "Okay, I have a confession to make."

"Oh, yay," Blu deadpanned.

"I couldn't exactly leave this cleaning for after work because, well..." Nea began as her cheeks started getting pink. "I'm gonna need the time after work to touch up my makeup, do my hair, change clothes, lay out snacks..."

Blu tilted her head. "Impromptu movie night?"

"Yes," Nea said. "But... not with you."

"Oh, just say who you invited," Blu blurted.

"Steb."

Blu's eyes widened in shock and a hint of protest. "Um... what?"

"I invited him over," Nea said. "He's coming here tonight and we're just gonna hang out."

A series of emotions ran past Blu's eyes from curiosity to distaste.

"Um... how did that happen?" Blu walked herself over to stand in front of Nea.

"Well, you'll be pleased to know that despite the bird incident, your party wasn't a failure," Nea began.

"None of my parties are failures," Blu intervened. "Go on."

"And judging by the fact that he felt he needed to bring someone to a large gathering, I figured maybe something more lowkey would help Steb feel more at ease," Nea explained. "So a simple night to hang out and talk seemed alright. I was waiting for him to know when he'd be off duty so that he could hang out without any pressure, and, well, tonight's the night."

"The night for what?" Blu pressed.

"For us to finally be alone together for a bit," Nea replied calmly. "Get to know each other."

"Unchaperoned?" Blu questioned.

"Oh, unclutch your pearls," Nea snickered. "You sound like a first generation councilman."

"Look, he seems nice and I get you like him but don't you think it's a little soon for you two to...?" Blu asked, and her eyes suddenly widened in shock before she ran herself to Nea's bedroom. Nea followed after her and saw Blu was searching the top of her made bed and her bedside tables as if she were looking for clues in a crime scene.

"What are you doing now?" Nea leaned on the doorframe and crossed her arms.

"Trying to find rose petals, aphrodisiac scented candles, anything that might suggest-" Blu paused to shudder. "I don't even want to think about it."

"Okay, just stop," Nea reached for Blu on her bed and set her down on the ground, kneeling in front of the little Yordle. "I'm not planning on getting into bed with him tonight. So you can stop worrying about that. All I want is to spend some time with him. But if it makes you feel better, you're invited. I'm sure he won't have any problem with you being there, and neither will I."

"Really?" Blu frowned, but Nea could pick up on the softness hidden behind her furious mask.

"Really," Nea replied. "If he's gonna come here more often, he'll have to get used to you either way."

"Get through me first is more like it," Blu muttered.

Nea leaned in and hugged Blu tight, just enough not to squeeze the air out of the Yordle. "Thank you for looking out for me."

Blu finally softened and leaned her head on Nea's shoulder. "Can I pick the movie?"

"Only if you don't hog the potato chips," Nea replied softly.

"Deal," Blu gently pulled away from the hug. "Now, I have to get back to check the oven."

"I'll be right down," Nea replied. "And don't you worry about a thing. I'm the one who should be nervous for tonight."

Blu giggled. "Wait 'til I tell Donnie and Lily about this."

Nea chuckled. "Knock yourself out."

Feeling mildly less distaste for what the night had in store for her, Blu retreated downstairs one more time and checked on her pastries. Not long after that, Nea went downstairs to open the Coffeewick, and from that moment on, it was business as usual. Blu kept a close eye on Nea, finding that even with the plans she had for the night, Nea was fairly focused on the job. She wasn't giggling like a schoolgirl or constantly blushing, she wasn't confused or off in a daze. She was simply Nea, the trustworthy, professional barista acing every order in the queue and brewing every cup with the same intent and passion.

For a moment, Blu felt as if her best friend wasn't being taken away.

Still, the day went by quickly, and it was time to close in what felt like a blink of an eye. Surely, the hours had zoomed by as quickly as Nea had wanted them to, and with the Coffeewick closed up, Nea was ready to head back upstairs to her apartment. She changed into one of her nicest sweaters, a fitted black one that was more like a wool blouse that greatly enhanced her silhouette and had a wide outstanding neckline that nearly reached her shoulders and showed off her collarbones. She styled her short hair into curls rather than the usual waves, and she touched up her eye makeup and lipstick. She didn't add any blush to her cheeks. It was enough simply to think about Steb for her to feel the apples of her cheeks turning pink, and if she dwelled on the thought of her welcoming him into her home and sitting next to him on the couch, she'd be flustered enough to be on the verge of swooning.

Finally, Nea sprayed herself with her favorite perfume. She took one last look at herself in the mirror and feared for a moment she may have dolled herself up a little too much for a simple night watching movies on the couch, but she brushed off the thought. As simple as the encounter would be, it was worth cleaning up nice. Steb was worth it. And with a little smile at her reflection, Nea wandered from her room to the kitchen and set out all the snacks that they would need on the coffee table in front of the couch, making sure not to neglect the bowl of chips specifically meant for Blu. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, indicating that the time for the date to begin was near—was it really a date? Nea still wasn't very sure what to call it. Either way, Steb would be there soon, and Blu would probably be at Nea's doorstep in mere seconds.

When the sky outside was almost dark, Nea heard the doorbell ringing from downstairs. Coming to a brief halt, Nea looked around her apartment to make sure one last time that everything was in top shape, and in her stillness, she could feel her heart beginning to race. Finally, she let herself out the door and down the stairs, approaching the Coffeewick door. Nea couldn't help the wide grin that appeared on her lips when she opened the door for Steb, and when he smiled back at her, she let out a little giggle.

"I'm so glad you made it," Nea said as she invited him in.

"Thanks," Steb said, making the one-syllable word sound elegant in his thick accent. "I just still think it's lucky both of our days off lined up for tomorrow."

"That just means we can enjoy movie night even more," Nea said, her tone shy and hopeful as her eyes appeared to shine at Steb.

In return, Steb gave her a chivalrous smile. "I'd like that."

As Nea closed and locked the door again behind them, the two shared a gentle look in silence. It let Nea observe what he chose to wear that night, dark trousers and a gray wool sweater with a white collared shirt underneath. She could feel the words glaring behind her lips, aching to come out, but it still felt too soon to utter how handsome he looked. For that night, she'd continue keeping that fact to herself.

"You look..." Steb began, contradicting Nea's inner decisions. "You look nice."

Nea's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but she smiled at him in return. "You think so?"

"Yes," Steb smiled shyly, wondering how much further it would be appropriate to take the compliment. "Curls suit you."

"It's one of my favorite styles," Nea gave her head a wiggle, and the curls crowning her head followed. "You, um... you look nice too."

Steb opted to remain silent this time, but the gentle look in his eyes spoke of gratitude and undeniable affection. The tender nature of the moment made it feel like they had lingered on each other's gazes for an age, and Nea began to feel like perhaps it was time to move things to the apartment. She gestured to Steb to begin moving deeper into the Coffeewick, and she led the way past the darkened coffee shop to the staircase until they made it to the second floor and were just outside Nea's door.

"This is it," Nea said, reaching for the doorknob.

"It felt... strange, seeing the Coffeewick empty and from the inside," Steb observed.

"Oh, I know what you mean," Nea said. "I feel it too. But the Coffeewick deserves her rest too."

"Of course," Steb agreed as Nea opened the door, and when he was granted a clear sight of the place where she lived, he found himself unable to focus on anything other than the Yordle who stood on the coffee table with her back turned on them as she reached into the bowl of chips.

"Hands up, chip thief," Nea joked.

Blu turned around on the coffee table and shoved one last handful of chips into her mouth, after which she hopped from the table to the sofa and plopped down on it. "I picked the movie."

"Good," Nea stepped inside and let Steb in as well. "I told Blu she could join us, I hope that's okay."

"Of course," Steb smiled at her. "It's nice to see you again."

Blu seemed to hesitate for a moment, a sight so rare for someone as sharp-tongued as her, but she gave Steb a cheeky little smile.

"Of course it is," Blu said. "I'm a delight."

Nea playfully rolled her eyes and started making her way toward the kitchen, but first, she gave a quick glance at Steb. "Make yourself at home. Do you want something to drink?"

"Sure, I'll come with you," he said as he began to follow.

"'Kay," Nea smiled. "Blu, do you wanna put the movie in?"

"Yep," Blu hopped from the couch and went towards the television.

Meanwhile, Nea made her way swiftly towards her kitchen, knowing the steps all too well, but Steb inevitably lingered in his pace, observing as many details as he could. He found himself comforted by the earthy colors of the walls and the forest greens of the blankets and cushions on the living room. He found the warmth of the apartment enjoyable, and even with the snacks that had already been laid out, the place quite obviously smelled of coffee, though the scent was delicately mixed with the aroma of flowers, mainly lavender and rose. He stopped and looked, though not for too long, at the different potted plants around the apartment, each one well taken care of, and overall the cozy aura of the place was enticing, inviting him to spend his days and nights there.

Of course, the company he'd find in that apartment was very inviting as well, and when his thoughts circled back to Nea, Steb observed her as she took out a bottle of stout ale from the fridge.

"Blu, do you want a beer?" Nea called.

"You know which one I like!" Blu replied from the living room.

"What about you?" Nea asked Steb.

"I wouldn't mind one," he replied somewhat shyly, feeling out of place for a moment between these two lifelong friends.

"Light or dark?" Nea asked.

"Light, please," Steb said.

"Okay," Nea said as she took out one more bottle of dark beer and one of light.

"You and Blu drink stouts?" Steb's voice carried obvious surprise in it.

"We like our beer like we like our coffee," Nea said. "My liver's used to it by now, but don't be surprised if Blu begins asking some very forward questions halfway through the second bottle."

"Yes, fear me," Blu mumbled from the living room.

Nea giggled and acknowledged Steb again. "Would you like a glass?"

"Bottle's fine," Steb replied.

With little more, Steb and Nea made their way back to the living room, drinks in hand. As Blu finished setting up the film, Nea handed her the bottle of stout, which Blu took with a little grin.

"Why, thank you," Blu looked adoringly at the bottle. "Come to mama, my sweet, bitter little baby."

Nea chuckled when Blu began drinking from the bottle, and even Steb couldn't help but laugh softly at the sight of the little Yordle gulping down beer from the bottle angled nearly vertically as she held it in her little paws. Then, Nea and Steb sat side to side on the sofa, facing the television, and once more their gazes met, prompting a shy little smile from one another. On the screen, the film was just starting, followed by Blu pit-pattering her way around the coffee table with her beer in hand. She set it down on the coffee table and hopped on the couch, shamelessly sitting herself between Steb and Nea, and when she was fully seated, Blu made grabby hands at her beer on the table.

Steb and Nea shared another look, this one full of mischief and amusement at the Yordle's antics. Steb reached for the beer before Nea and handed it to Blu, who looked at him with a certain degree of approval.

"Hm," Blu said as she took the bottle. "Good move, officer. Pass the chips."

"Blu, say please," Nea reminded.

"I'll say thanks for the chips," Blu added.

"Here you go," Steb said as he gave her the big bowl of salty snacks.

"Thanks," Blu said and snuggled into Nea's frame.

"So, what movie did you pick?" Nea asked her.

"Only a timeless classic," Blu replied as a delicate piano melody began playing on the screen.

"Oh my," Nea giggled. "You actually picked Arrogance and Prejudgment?"

"Yes," Blu snickered. "You remember the tradition, right?"

"When it gets to the potato scene, we both quote the phrase in unison," Nea recited.

"And then we drink," Blu snuggled deeper into Nea. "I like movie night."

With a little giggle, Nea looked at Steb again. "Are you comfy?"

He nodded. "Yeah, thanks."

Nea blinked with a little grin. "Let me know if you need anything."

He gave her a quiet smile in return, and though they would have loved more conversation, both Steb and Nea felt that if they talked during the movie, Blu would have their heads. The movie played its course, and as it was with every rewatch, Nea enjoyed every bit of it the way she always did. The only difference was that Steb was present; knowing looks and lingering gazes were exchanged, and even with Blu sitting between them, Nea and Steb could feel how close they were to one another. It added a sweet variety of tension to the hours as they passed by, and even in the absence of words, it was what Nea had wanted—time spent near him, and the fortune of gazing upon him simply by looking at her side.

The movie eventually came to its end, and each one in that living room had roughly two drinks down. Even with the quantity being the same, the three were all at a different level of inspiration, with Steb being fully in his five senses, Nea with a faint sensation of lightheadedness she wasn't sure came from the ale or the extended proximity to Steb, and finally, being the worst of all, Blu quietly giggling to herself as multiple thoughts crossed her mind.

"We should watch that again," Blu slurred as she tumbled off the couch, falling with a light thud on the carpet. The sight prompted a laugh from Nea, one that brought to light just how tipsy she was.

"Oh my gosh, are you hurt?" Nea asked as Blu stood up and began a wobbly stride towards the kitchen.

"Yes," Blu mumbled. "On the inside. It needs alcohol."

Nea snickered.

"Are you sure you can handle another drink, Blu?" Steb asked when he noticed the Yordle reaching into the fridge for another three bottles.

"What, you wanna give me advice?" Blu challenged as she closed the fridge and made her way back to the sofa. She gave Nea one of the bottles and kept the other two for herself, giggling as she climbed on the coffee table and took a seat. "Fun game. Gimme advice, fishy boy, I dare you."

Steb turned towards Nea, his aquamarine eyes full of concern. In her lightheadedness, Nea suddenly wished he wasn't looking at her like that, but then again, any expression he could adopt would have the same effect on her. She wasn't fully sure she'd be able to resist him, and against her will, she grinned widely at Steb, and a dreamy sigh left her as she unconsciously stirred on the sofa and shifted her weight towards him.

"She's fine," Nea said. "She'll mumble nonsense and then pass out, but we're at home, so there's nothing to worry about."

"If you're certain," Steb told her, not at all oblivious to the change in Nea's aura.

Slowly, Nea nodded and smiled at him. "I am. But thanks for worrying. Now, please, humor her."

Steb chuckled, and he figured he'd enjoy himself as well. By logical deduction, he'd determined that the third bottle of ale was meant for him, and he reached across the coffee table in an attempt to take it only to earn himself a fluffy slap on his hand coming from Blu's hand. When he met eyes with the Yordle, she was frowning, looking about as ruthless and menacing as a marshmallow.

"Valuable piece of advice number one," Blu slurred, pausing to hiccup. "Never take a bottle from a Yordle."

"I thought—" Steb began.

"Never," Blu reiterated.

"Behave," Nea reminded her friend.

"Valuable piece of advice number two!" Blu enunciated as she attempted to stand up on the coffee table, only to quickly find out she was too woozy to properly keep balance and sat down again. "Never—hic!—ever eat a beet if it's furry."

Steb laughed softly and tilted his head. "Why?"

Blu directed an unamused look at him. "What do you mean, why? It's a beet! It's not supposed to have fur." Blu looked at Nea. "Can you believe this guy?"

Nea quietly chuckled and looked over at Steb with a little spark in her eyes. As Steb looked at her too, he felt a sensation in his chest, perhaps that of his heart swelling at the sight of her curled up on the couch hugging one of the cushions and looking up at him in adoration. He couldn't help but smile softly at her, and he found himself controlling the urge to reach out and take her in his arms—not only would it be wrong in her current state, but he didn't need Blu lunging toward him in an attempt to end him, funny as that would be.

"Valuable piece of advice number four!" Blu said as she tried to hop from the coffee table to the armchair.

"You skipped a number, genius," Nea said as she reached out and helped Blu get on the chair.

"Valuable piece of advice number five," Blu continued, unbothered, as she found a comfy seated position on the arm chair, holding her beer not unlike a child would hold their sippy cup. The Yordle looked over at Steb and, for a moment, an unavoidable seriousness peered through the tipsy cloudiness of her overall aura. "Don't you dare break this woman's heart."

In the few seconds it took for Blu's words to sink in, Nea felt herself sobering up as well. An alarming embarrassment threatened to creep up on her, and just before she could slip into overdrive and erupt in attempt after attempt to convince Steb that Blu didn't know what she was saying, the Vastaya let out a deep, soft laugh and he too straightened his posture, looking deep into Blu without a hint of hesitation.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Steb assured.

With his words, the plethora of worries that had invaded Nea vanished. Her features softened and her chest sank with the soft exhale that left her as she turned around to face him, and for a moment, she didn't know whether to thank him or to confess her feelings to him. But even in her lightheadedness, she knew that worrying or speculating, much less hiding from him, wasn't an option anymore, and with that realization, a smile curved her full lips. Steb's gaze then landed on her, smiling softly at her as well—if she had looked beautiful before, the current sight of her had Steb feeling as if he'd swallowed a box of fireworks, about to burst in the many things she made him feel.

"Then my work here—hic!—is done," Blu said and brought the beer bottle up to her snout, downing its entire content before setting it aside. With one more hiccup, she curled up on the armchair facing away from them and mumbled a few things no one else was able to make out, and in seconds, she fell asleep.

Giggling softly at the sight of her furry friend sleeping like a baby—as if she hadn't just chugged a whole beer—Nea turned around on the couch and faced Steb again. As she looked at him, she could feel her entire guard being let down, and she smiled dreamily at the man in front of her. Everything around her seemed blurry, but no less enchanting, and Nea felt her heart skip a beat when Steb shifted closer to her on the couch. His eyes held a blend of concern and affection in them, and the first thing he did was reach for the bottle in her hands when it tilted in a perilous angle that would let all the liquid drain from it, a fact that had been irrelevant to Nea before he reached to grab it. He took it from her and set it on the coffee table only to look at her again, managing a soft smile.

“Are you okay?” Steb asked.

Nea smiled and hummed in approval, feeling her body angling itself closer to Steb as his deep, rich voice allured her not unlike the song of a siren.

“Yeah,” Nea replied. She looked at him and her hopeful grin widened and a shimmer adorned her gaze. “Did you really mean that?”

Steb chuckled and found no harm in answering. “Every word.”

With another soft hum, Nea found herself ever closer to Steb. Her hand hovered over to his forearm and delicately brushed down toward her hand, lingering on the sensation of the wool beneath her fingers. The bottles of beer finally caught onto her, dimming her senses, and she was barely able to register the flash of recognition in Steb’s eyes when she leaned even closer to him and perked her lips up, intent on sealing the space between them and indulging in the perfect first kiss she’d been yearning for. But instead of feeling his lips on hers, Nea suddenly felt a force applied against her shoulders followed by the sound of Steb’s voice hazily filling her ears.

“No, darling,” Steb said as he gently kept her at bay.

“What?” Nea whimpered. “Steb…”

“You’ve had too much to drink,” he stated.

“No…” Nea’s whole face dropped into disappointment, well near breaking Steb’s heart, but a kiss in those conditions was out of the question for him. Delicately, Steb took Nea in his grip and helped her up to standing, and his own resistance built tension up in him as he looked at Nea, so beautiful yet so far off in a distant world.

“Oh, dear,” Steb said so quietly, just barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I’d rather you remember this when you’re sober or not.”

“You don’t want to kiss me,” Nea mumbled.

Steb felt the words she spoke burning through his skin. “I do. Believe me, I do…”

From the couch to her bedroom, the only thought Steb could register was how much he’d only wanted to kiss her since he met her, how it ached to long for her embrace, her dark brown eyes gazing into him, waking up beside her in gentle sunlight… It hurt to even think that any part of Nea might suspect he wanted anything other than that, but now wasn’t the time to prove her wrong. When they arrived at her room, Steb sat Nea down on the bed and he kneeled in front of her.

“Hey,” Steb said. “I’m gonna get you a glass of water, and I’ll be right back, okay?”

Nea nodded softly, but she didn’t say anything else. Steb got up to head to the kitchen, but he stopped in his tracks when he felt Nea grabbing his hand.

“Wait,” she said, with a brief hint of desperation in her voice.

“Yes?” Steb’s whole frame softened when he looked at her again.

“Don’t go,” Nea pleaded.

“I’m just going to the kitchen,” Steb reassured her. “I’ll be right here with you until you can fall asleep, okay?”

Nea gave a soft nod and let her hand drop, letting go of Steb. Through the buzz, she could recognize the tenderness of Steb’s gaze as he looked upon her, and with a few quiet steps, he was out of her room. As he made his way through the cozy little apartment, he didn’t forget to check on Blu as she slept on the couch—she was still positioned on her side and her breathing was deep and steady, giving no reason for concern. Steb then finished his way into the kitchen and, though he didn’t love the idea of rummaging through Nea’s cupboards, he found a cup and filled it with water to take it back to her room.

When he arrived, Steb was greeted by the sight of Nea sleeping already, curled up on her side in a fetal position facing the bedside table. Of all the ways Steb had pondered on the slightest possibility of seeing her sleeping soundly near him, he didn’t think it would involve her being drunk. In fact, he would have hoped it wouldn’t be the case had he ever stopped to consider that course of events. But things were as they were, and all in all, Nea did look adorable. With a soft smile, Steb set the glass of water down on the bedside table and turned off the lamp, and he reached for the blankets on the opposite side of the bed, folding them over to cover Nea so she’d be warm. He then left the room and opted to leave the door open, making it easier for him to hear if she needed him throughout the night.

When Nea had fallen asleep, she had no recollection of what time it was, and no such conscience until the first moment she felt sunlight gleaming on her eyelids the following morning. She didn’t even remember at what point during the night she’d gotten up to drink the now empty glass of water that rested on her nightstand, but as soon as she’d remembered who’d left it there for her, all the embarrassment returned. With a grimace, Nea pulled her blanket over her face and pressed her palm to her forehead in an effort to soothe the cringe and the piercing headache, and the realization that she couldn’t do anything to undo the way she drunkenly came onto Steb plunged a void right in the middle of her chest. She hoped to avoid facing anything and anyone that day—thank goodness it was the Coffeewick’s day off—like a troll retreating to a cave for as long as the sun lit the sky.

Nea got up from her bed and decided not to open the curtains just yet. As she made her way to the door, she wondered a lot of things, mainly how she would ever make it up to Steb. Now in the living room of her apartment, Nea squinted and used one of her hands to shield her eyes from the natural light that peered in through the windows, and her feet carried her over to the armchair where Blu was still sleeping as soundly as ever. Nea remembered seeing Blu curled up on one side, but in that moment, she was splattered face down with a blanket covering only half of her body, and Nea couldn’t help but laugh quietly at the sight. Blu looked as if the three bottles of beer she’d had the night before were actually full of hard liqueur.

When Nea laughed, she quieted down instantly when she heard a deep, sleepy moan coming from the ground, and she quickly faced the direction of the sound to find Steb sleeping on the carpet, his head and lower back supported by the cushions from the couch. One of his forearms covered his eyes, shielding him from the light, and he was almost entirely scrunched—Nea feared he’d been cold all night. She then looked at the coffee table and realized it was spotless. The empty bottles had been rounded up and placed next to the trash chute, the bowls of chips had been emptied and cleaned, and whatever droplets of beer or crumbs had been lying around the furniture weren’t there.

Nea looked at Steb’s sleeping figure and it dawned on her. She realized the motivation behind all his actions, particularly—and perhaps, especially—his decision to not kiss her the night before when she wanted to. Though part of her would have wished he would have left to avoid further embarrassment, now she was happy he’d stuck around if only to thank him for tidying up when he didn’t have to. She smiled at the sight of him and controlled the urge to plant a gentle kiss of gratitude on his forehead, and instead, she turned towards Blu.

With the lightest touch, Nea lifted the blanket off of Blu and draped it over Steb, hoping to give him some sort of comfort in what clearly was not an ideal sleeping position, and then she picked Blu up from the couch and headed for the door. In little time, Nea was in Blu’s apartment setting the Yordle down on her bed for her to keep sleeping to her heart’s content, and Nea then returned to her own apartment, taking her time with each step she took. Perhaps she’d brew a pot of coffee—whether it was for the hangover or to cure a night of poor sleep, coffee was never an inadequate form of gratitude. She reached for the doorknob of her place and twisted it, pulling the door open with her gaze trailed on the living room where Steb was sleeping, and when the scene was revealed to her, she found he wasn’t there anymore.

“Good morning,” Steb’s deep, rich voice emerged from her bedroom.

She found him standing under her doorframe and smiled at him, closing the door behind her.

“I heard the door and thought Blu had gone on her own,” Steb said. “I thought I’d check in on you, but then saw you were gone.”

“Yeah, I took her,” Nea said, giggling at the memory of how she found Blu on the couch. “There’s no way Blu’s gonna move on her own.”

Steb laughed softly and walked over to Nea. “And… how are you?”

When she saw how tenderly he looked at her, Nea nearly broke into a flustered amalgamation of embarrassment and thanks. Judging by the way Steb’s eyes softened at her, she knew all the emotions must have manifested in her gaze, and Nea chose to lead with the one thing that was eating her inside, prompting her to cover her eyes with her hands.

“I am so sorry about last night,” Nea whimpered.

“Hey, come on,” Steb comforted. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I put you in a difficult position, and I shouldn’t have…” Nea uncovered her eyes and looked at him again. “It wasn’t supposed to happen, I’m sorry for letting myself go like that.”

“You had a couple beers in your own home,” Steb reassured. “Don’t apologize for that.”

“I tried to kiss you!” Nea blurted.

Steb chuckled softly, his ears giving a faint wiggle. “I’m… honestly flattered by that.”

“Don’t tease me,” Nea looked away from him.

“I’m not,” Steb reached, albeit without thinking, for her hand and squeezed it gently. The gesture instantly brought her eyes to look at him again, and though he considered for a moment swatting her hand away in regret, he kept it there and his ocean eyes softened as he continued to look deep into her.

“I mean…” Nea began. “It’s not like you don’t know how I feel…”

Her words abandoned her mid sentence, but she didn’t need them. Steb knew what she was trying to say, and the only thing that would pain him was for her confession to be clouded by remorse. He’d turn that around if he could, and in his eyes, he still had the chance. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and smiled at her, gesturing with his eyes toward the kitchen.

“You need to eat,” Steb said. “And hydrate.”

Still holding her hand, Steb led her toward the kitchen and stood in front of her fridge. “Mind if I make us some breakfast?”

Nea smiled at Steb with mild disbelief and she gave a soft nod. With her approval, Steb opened the fridge and looked around before taking out eggs, ham, and cheese.

“Here,” Nea went to the pantry and took out oil for the pan Steb was already putting on the stove, as well as a spatula and a whisk.

“Let me,” Steb smiled at her. “I wanna spoil you a bit.”

Nea felt herself blushing furiously. “Steb, you really don’t have to…”

“I want to,” he emphasized. “Scrambled?”

“What?” Nea asked.

“Are scrambled eggs okay?”

She chuckled and let him take the lead. “Yes, that sounds perfect.”

With that confirmation, Steb ignited the stove top and got to cooking, and in no time, the kitchen smelled amazing. Nea paused for a few moments to watch him move around the kitchen, until she moved on her own and prepped the coffee maker to brew a whole pot.

“So, you also brew coffee on your days off?” Steb asked her, still focusing on the eggs frying on the pan.

“Of course I do!” Nea beamed, walking up to him when she was able to leave the coffee maker to its own devices. “Coffee’s something I love.”

Steb could feel her proximity, and when he noticed the way she was looking at him, he turned off the stove so he could focus fully on her, his eyes beckoning her to speak up in the gentlest manner. Nea smiled softly at him, and her own gaze continued to hold an apologetic tone to it.

“Thank you,” she said, looking around the apartment for a couple seconds before looking at him again. “You didn’t have to clean up, by the way. But… thank you. For everything.”

Steb smiled at her and angled his body to face her. As he looked at Nea, he could see her anticipation growing when her eyes sparkled up at him again and her chest began to heave in soft pants.

“Steb?” She pronounced his name so endearingly, full of hope.

“Yes?”

“I…” Nea blushed. “I can think straight now.”

Steb gave a soft chuckle. “I’m sure you can.”

Nea’s smile widened. “So… Can I kiss you?”

The frills around Steb’s eyes flared in subtle waves as his own smile widened at her, and with a delicate grip, Steb rested his hands cupping Nea’s neck, his thumbs gently brushing the bases of her jaw. The adoration in his aquamarine gaze faded into something quieter, but no less adoring, slowly leaning down closer to her.

“Can I?” Steb asked her quietly.

Nea giggled. “Yes.”

No more barriers were placed, and beaming with joy, Steb leaned down to close the space between them. The initial contact of their lips was warm and unprecedentedly soft, both moving in tandem like waves dancing on a shore. Steb smiled into the kiss when he felt Nea’s chest rising with a deep inhale infused with soft surprise and a tender shyness that faded when she let her hands brush up his shoulders, resting on his broad frame. In turn, Steb took one of his hands to the back of Nea’s head, pressing her closer to him as he kissed with more strength, prompting her to wrap her arms around him. She also began to kiss with greater strength, letting everything—the yearning, the uncertainty, the many beats skipped by her heart whenever she thought of him—rest in that much anticipated kiss. Now that she was with him, she knew she wouldn’t want to let go; she was ready to give herself to him just as she could feel the same from him.

When the time was right, the kiss relented, but neither of them were quick to pull away. With little space between their lips, Nea looked up at Steb, who smiled lovingly at her blushing figure, a sight so endearing it prompted another flare of the frills on his eyes, tickling Nea’s cheekbones and drawing a soft giggle from her. She made no attempt to resist the desire to kiss him again and, wrapping her arms around his back, she kissed him with equal strength and he embraced her waist, gently spinning her away from the stove and swaying her gently to the sides until he pulled away with a final peck to her forehead.

“Sit down,” Steb whispered. “You need to eat.”

Nea felt her cheeks starting to ache from grinning so widely and, enamored by his selflessness, she resolved to let him finish what he started. But instead of sitting down, Nea wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his back, hearing his soft laughter rumbling deep in his torso.

“I’m not letting you go now,” Nea whispered, not necessarily intending for him to hear her.

Still, Steb eventually turned around with two plates ready to be served, leaning down to gently kiss Nea’s lips again before leading her to the table.

“I should hope not,” he whispered and took the plates down to the table. “Should I pour the coffee?”

His words slid Nea out of her trance, suddenly rendering her able to stand in the real world where, next to Steb, everything looked far more beautiful.

“No, that’s my job,” Nea smiled.

Like he’d done many times already, Steb watched as Nea expertly poured the cups of coffee, finally for the two of them to sit down and enjoy together. As she made her way back to the table, he took the cups from her hands and set them down, pulling her close one more time to kiss her, and what he’d initially meant to be a quick kiss before breakfast evolved into Nea leading Steb to the couch where they continued, shy yet loving, without any need for fire or rush, merely adoring one another for as long as they’d wanted to since that first encounter, and long enough for the coffee to go cold and the sun to continue its way across the sky.

Thanks so much for reading! Please reblog to help me get out there!

Next chapter -> (coming soon!)

[samuraishima]

Another drawing ☺️

[samuraishima]

[samuraishima]

[samuraishima]

Just something I put together for my Tech fanfic on Wattpad ☺️🎨

[samuraishima]

Omg facts

The best part about new fic is getting to rewatch the source material for inspiration. Perfect excuse for a TCW/TBB marathon

[samuraishima]

Yes!!!!! It's finally happening!!!! 🎉🔥❤️🥰

Stargazing

Pairings: Captain Howzer x Female OC (Athena Allard)

Series summary: Athena has spent a long time on Coruscant working as an administrative for the Republic - too long. Fed up with that lifestyle, Athena returns to her home planet, a forest-type planet far in the Outer Rim, also used by the GAR for peaceful operations, and Athena eventually meets the captain of the battalion in charge. Can she return home to the fullest when it feels like the GAR followed her to the ends of the galaxy?

Series rating: Explicit 18+ for sexual content in many chapters

{main masterlist} {AO3 link} {Wattpad link}

Status: coming soon

Chapter 1 - TBD (coming soon!)

Other resources

Athena Allard profile (coming soon!)

[samuraishima]

Omg are you talking about Howzer!? 🙏🔥❤️

I have two female GAR medic OCs.

Why not a third one?

Yes... why shouldn't I create a third GAR medic OC for a different fanfic I've been having inspiration for? One that might be paired with a different trooper? One I haven't written for as much... maybe put her in a certain blue battalion 👀

Together, they can be the Golden-We-Love-Our-Clone-Men-Medic trio.

But this isn't set in stone yet, I'm still brainstorming and contrasting some ideas.