#“do I look like a woman who would stoop to that level? you’re breaking my heart!” HDGDNDGHDGDH SHES SO

[nazumichi]

michiru calling out marie at the festival for breaking their deal, and marie instantly defending herself through the means of dramatic wailing and taking fake offence is an act I bet she uses on rare occasions and all the time. marie is a master of psychological manipulation (no she isn’t, she’s smiling the whole time, which sort of makes her seem less genuine. for some reason).

[creativepawsworld]

Silence - Chapter 19

Pairing = Thomas Shelby x Reader

Summary = Anastasia and James have a heart to heart. Ana finds her way out of her parents house. 

Warnings = Language, Gang Activity, Sexual Relations, Murder, Violence, Religion, grammar 

Word Count = 3478

Note = Sorry it’s taken so long to get this out, I have so many ideas but this is a story and some filler moments gotta happen. It has taken me a while to be happy with what I’ve written also. 

Anyways...Hope you all had a lovely Christmas.

Sitting hunched over my brother’s kitchen table, a cold cup of tea in my hands as the events of the other day plagued my mind. It had been five long days since the fall out and I had yet to return to work or leave the comfort of James’ new home. I had sealed myself away, the words of my mother slowly ate away at my self-worth, my confidence.

I had found myself embarrassed to leave the confines that I now considered home.

 “You’re up early again.” James observed placing a hand gently on my shoulder. He gave it a light squeeze as he passed, walking towards the sink to get himself a glass of water before turning to look at me, eyebrow raised waiting on a answer.

 “I didn’t sleep.” I nod, sitting back on the delicate wooden chair, that felt like it would break at the slightest movement. Stretching back after feeling a cramp due to my hunched over position that I had been in for at least 30 minutes, lost in thought.  

 “Again? Is the bed not comfortable Ana?” He asked placing the half empty glass on the counter top before walking forward to rest his hands on the top of the other chair in front of me, hunching over his back so he was now eye level. “We can swap if you want? My bed is decent.”

 “The bed is fine James, do not worry. I’m just not tired. My mind is running marathons every time I lay down. ” I try to explain as best I could without worrying him any further. He was already under enough stress with work and his girlfriend, who he had been arguing a lot with lately and I had a sinking feeling I was to blame.

 I couldn’t blame her, I knew Martha liked me but she didn’t exactly care for an additional roommate so close after moving in. This was supposed to be a special time for her and my brother. Redecorating their first home, making a new start together but that proved difficult with me potentially overstaying my welcome.

 “I am sure Shelby could find an answer for that.”  He answered trying his hardest to hold back on his disgust. My brother still uncomfortable at the thought of his sister with a Shelby man, although he accepted it unlike my mother because he knew, Thomas made me happy.

 “Like drugs? I could find them for myself if I wanted to stoop so low” I retorted a little more frosty than I had intended. My eye glaring at the chipped porcelain in front of me, almost as if I was trying to shattered it with my mind.

 “Glad to hear you’re not at that stage but that’s not what I meant.” He laughed softly, a soft sigh leaving his mouth. He had been trying in vain to cheer me up  for days but no matter what he did, I just couldn’t break out of the slump I was feeling.

Not even Tommy could keep me smiling for long.

 Forcing back a smile, I nodded at his attempt. My mind taking the silence and returning to my mother. We had never been close, but over the last few weeks we had made progress. All to be incinerated because I fell in love? What kind of mother tosses their only daughter out because she fell for a man she didn’t approve of?

 “Shilling for your thoughts?” James asked reaching over the table and taking my hand into his, large green eyes pleading with me for an response. It was killing him seeing me this way.

 “I just don’t understand how she can be so cruel. I’m her daughter, her only daughter. Doesn’t every woman want a girl when they have a child? A friend for life? Someone to talk to about boys? To vent to about living as a woman in post war times? ” I answered with a scoff, my nails chipping away at the cheap paint on the cup. “She doesn’t even know him, only the reputation he has built for himself! How can she be so quick to judge?”

 Inhaling deeply I could tell my brother regretted asking the question, the verbal vomit coming from my mouth was enough to put anyone off but he understood every single word that left my lips.

 “He isn’t a complete asshole.” He nodded biting the corner of his lip. “But mother. Mother has always been an asshole Ana. She puts up a façade when things are going her way but her true colours come out eventually.”

 “Yeah, she probably didn’t care for me”

 “In her own way she cared Ana, but not like a mother should. Mothers are suppose to love their children unconditionally not only when they make achievements.” He sighed, head falling down so his chin rested on his chest. “People like mother only care about control, when they have it they are happy. When they lose it, well…you saw what happens” He finished looking up at me, sympathy evident in his stare.

 “Do you think being with Tommy is a mistake?” I bluntly asked wanting to know the answer to a question that had crossed my mind continuously over the last few days.

 Was I stupid throwing my family away from one man I barely knew?

 “Yes but not because of mother” James snorted out a laugh as he stood tall once again. With another sigh he reached forward, wrapping his hand around the top of the chair opposite making himself comfortable before continuing. “I think Shelby is good for you in some ways. Like its bringing out a confidence in you I didn’t think you had. It’s amazing. I love it, but he is a gangster Ana and nothing good can come from that.”

 “I understand” I nod forcing a smile on my face to hide the pain  I was feeling inside. That was the exact answer my brain was giving my heart every time.

 “But I know you love him and he loves you. He might act like a big tough gangster but when I told him what mother had said to you… I’ve never seen a man move so fast to find you.” He continued, a sombre smile on his face as he reached across taking my hand in his own, his thumb brushing over my knuckles as a tear fell from my eye.

 “You’re just saying that”

 “I wish I was.” He laughed, shaking his head, his actions putting a smile on my face. “You know my history with his family but I’m not blind. Neither is the witch, she sees it and the both of us can’t be wrong. And don’t forget I’m never wrong” He winked, squeezing my hand tightly.

 “His brother John talks about it to” I chuckle, my free hand coming up to wipe the tears falling down my face as I sniffle.

 “Well there you go. John is a good man. Served with him in France, different bloke back then though but I doubt he is much different, not underneath anyway.”

 “I didn’t know you served together.” I inhale, suddenly sitting up straighter in my chair.

  The war was something my brother nor father would talk about, no man really spoke about it as far as I was aware. Only few men returned unscathed both mentally and physically, every man from Small Heath was not one of the lucky few. Each had their own harrowing nightmares but each kept it to themselves.

 “I don’t talk about the war but I need to make a point.” He chuckled breathlessly  patting my hand before standing to his feet, quick to change the conversation like he had always done. “I have to get to work, why don’t you make yourself all pretty and go see Shelby, he always puts a smile on that face.”

 “Hey James?” I called, pulling both my hands back towards my stomach, inhaling deeply as I sat on the edge of the seat.

 “Yeah?” He asked turning around to face me, one of his hands resting on the door frame of the living room as he waited.

 “Why do you call Tommy, Shelby but you can call Arthur and John by their given name?” I question a sassy smile on my face as I stare at him.

 “Simple, Arthur and John ain’t fucking my sister.” He turned, face deadpanned with a hint of a cheeky smile, threatening to spill onto his face. “I’ll see you later tonight.”

After bidding farewell to my brother, I had taken his advice to make myself pretty but not for Thomas. I was going to return home, hold my head up high and face my parents. James telling me that he loved my new found confidence had awoken something inside me.#

I was not going to let my mother’s preconceptions, continue to run my life. I had to take back control, plus I needed more clothes my brother had only packed two dresses for me when I left home.

 Fixing myself as best I could with as little as I could, I opened the door to reveal non other than Thomas Shelby on the other side, a cigarette between his lips as he rested causally against the wall of the apartment almost like he knew I would be coming out.

 “What are you doing here?”

 “Nice to see you to.” He chuckled reaching up and taking the white stick from his lips releasing a puff of smoke as he pushed off the wall, standing tall in front of me. “Where are you heading off to then?”

 “My parents, I’m going to collect my things.” I look over my shoulder at him as I speak, my hands busy locking the door. “No doubt that horrible woman will be there to make sure I’m not stealing anything of hers.”

 “Things still not improved then eh?” He asked, shoving one hand into his trousers pocket as we walked, side by side down the concrete steps of the apartment block I was currently staying at. “She is your mother Anastasia? You should try and talk to her.”  

 “No. No mother would say such things to their child and then throw then out onto the street to fend for themselves.” I scoff, looking over at him as if he had ten heads. How could he say something so ludicrous.

 “My father said a lot worse. Acted in violence.” Tommy spoke, turning to face me as we hit the final step. “Don’t be so quick to shut her out of your life. Her words have come from shock. It’s not easy having your daughter date one of the most dangerous men in Birmingham.”

 “Is that why your father is still a part of your life? Oh wait, he isn’t.” I snapped back, regretting the words as soon as they left my mouth. My mothers outburst was nothing compared to the years of abuse and torment he had inflicted on his children.

 Staring down at my hands, I didn’t have the guts to look up at Tommy. Feeling his stare was enough, his eyes were burning straight through me like he was putting an infamous curse on me, the same ones I feared as a child.

 “You know why he isn’t.”  His tone was low and dangerous as he took my chin in his head, pulling my head up to look into his cold blue eyes. “You’re hurting. I’ll let it slide.”  

 “Why? If I was anybody else I would have a bullet between the eyes would I not?” I challenged, feeling myself getting hot over confronting him. I know it shouldn’t but it was exhilarating playing with fire, especially when I knew nothing bad would happen.

 “No.” He returned quickly, a cheeky glint flashing in his eye for a second. Liar I thought rolling my eyes, I went to turn and walk away from him but he caught my upper arm pulling me into him. “Do you need me to have a word with your mother?”

 “What no! That is the last thing I need Tommy, you are the reason she hates my very existence. You will just make everything worse” I tell him not meaning for the words to come out as harshly as the did. “Just stay out of it, please.”

 “I can’t do that” He answered, still holding me close. His voice much softer now.

 “Why?” I asked, turning my body towards him so my entire front was pressed against him as he stared down into my eyes.

 “Because it’s hurting you Stace.” He whispered, his free hand reaching up and brushing a stray hair behind my ear, instinctively my head lulled into his touch, eyes never breaking contact.

 “I’m not hurting anyone so who cares?”

 “I care.” He stated confidently, the cigarette balancing on his lower lip as both his hands wrapped around my hips, tugging me against him tighter if that was even possible. “Your brother cares, Polly cares, fucking John cares. Which reminds me when did you become close?” He questioned, eyebrow raised and I couldn’t help but laugh.

 “We’ve had a few conversations but we aren’t close” I chuckle, resting my hands on his forearms comfortably before lifting one to wave the smoke from my face.

 “Don’t let him hear that” He nodded, reaching up to take the cigarette from his lips and tossing it to the side. “Are you managing being out of work? I can get Arthur to take you on at the Garrison if you want?”

 “I’ll be alright Tommy, tailoring is something I love so I will be returning if my father allows me. It is his business after all and he didn’t seem too upset that we are together.” I smile up at him, as he took my hand in his, we start to walk once more.  

 “Perhaps your father has spoken sense into your mother”

 “I doubt that very much” Laughing I turned to Tommy with a smile. “My father is more afraid of my mother than he is you.”

 “Your father is a smart man, an unhappy woman leads to an unhappy life.” Tommy nodded, his eyes savouring the area as we walked, always on the lookout. “Polly’s wise words”

 “Polly is a wise woman indeed” I nod as we turned the corner to enter my street just as Mrs Anderson was leaving the shop. It seemed to be business as usual. “I’ll come find you when I am done?”

 “I’ll be at the shop” Tommy replied as we both came to a stop just before the shop entrance. “Sure you don’t need me as back up?”

 “I’m sure. Go do your illegal business Mr Shelby” I chuckled reaching up and placing a quick peck to his lips not caring if anyone could see.

 “We are legal now Miss Adler.” He grinned down at me, pressing his lips to mine for a longer kiss before pulling away. “Meet me at the stop when you’re done.” He pointed his index finger at me as he back away, walking down the street and disappearing.

 Inhaling deeply, I collected my thoughts before pushing open the brown door which felt heavier than usual, entering the place I once considered my safe space. My eyes darted around the room but only my father could be found, by his desk working.

 “Ana, thank god” My father gushed looking up from his spot, dropping the trousers he had been  working on to rush towards me, a smile on his face while cupping my cheeks in his hands. “It hasn’t been the same without you. Are you well?”

 “I’m alright father.” I nod placing my hands on his, fresh tears spilling from my face at his reaction to seeing me. It had seemed that nothing had change in my father’s eyes, he still carried the love he claimed to have for me on his sleeve, much like he had the past few weeks.

 “Your mother, she didn’t mean it. Come home, we can talk.”

 “I can’t do that father. What she said really hurt me. I can’t be under the same roof. She has shown her true colours.” I sigh watching my father’s face fall with sadness at my words.

 “That’s rich. Can’t be under the same roof as your own mother but can happily lay with a wanted criminal. Do you know he is responsible for the death of Billy Kimber?” My mother’s voice spoke, peering over my father’s shoulder I saw her walking towards her desk. “He is a cold blooded killer that Shelby. The Devil.”

 “I am aware of that incident yes and it was self-defence, Billy Kimber shot him first. Wounded his chest, just missed his heart.”

 “That what he told you?” She laughed, not holding back with the evil looks she was throwing my way. “He doesn’t even have a heart to hit, Ana. Wake up and realise what kind of man he is before it’s too late.”

 “Edith don’t start.” William spoke sharply after his wife, turning to hold up a shaky index finger at her.

 “It’s alright father she is just bitter I am not under her control anymore. I am free” I speak to him but loud enough for her to hear in the back of the store, my words having her choke on laughter as she leaned forward on her desk.

 “Free? You will never be free with him Anastasia. He will ruin you. You will live a life or torment and despair and go straight to hell when he kills you. Stupid girl.” She spat, pointing a threaded needle in my direction.

 “He loves me. Something you will never understand.” I tell her, closing my eyes to prevent the tears from falling. “I’m sorry dad, I can’t be around her.”

 “Ana, please wait…”

 “Let the harlot go William, she has brought nothing but shame.” My mother scoffed, tossing the threaded needle onto her desk which had turn into a complete mess, so unlike my mother. “She will realise soon enough that we were right but by then it’ll be too late.”

 “That is not true. You haven’t brought shame to us Ana.” My father tried to eliminate the harshness of her words but they were sharp, uncalled for and he knew it. “Come back to work at least, I could really use your help with a few orders. They are piling up.”

 “I will return to help you father. Tomorrow if that’s alright?” I asked glancing up at him through my eyelashes and he nods in response. “I’ve just come for my things today. I’m moving out.”

 “Ha, to where?” My mother spat, an evil laugh leaving her throat as she sneered at me. “Your brother and Martha aren’t going to want you around for much longer? They are already at each other’s throats. What was supposed to be a joyful time of experiencing their first house together was ruined by you.”

 “You’re room is always available here Ana” My father spoke lowly knowing my mother would have something to say if she heard his words.

 “Unless Shelby is offering you a place to stay?” She continued, her body language unusually. It was almost like she was swaying as she sat in her chair. “What is the agreement, sleep with all three brothers for a bit of bread?”

 “You are a horrible woman and I am ashamed to have ever called you my mother” I spat, pulling away from my father and leaving the shop as the tears began to blind me, I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of once again seeing me cry.

 Rushing next door, I took the stairs two at a time until I got to my room, slamming the door shut behind me, I threw myself onto the bed he tears staining my pillow below me as I cried. A strangled scream of frustration left my lungs as I buried my head as deep as it could go. All emotions leaving my soul, leaving me empty.

 Deciding not to take her abuse anymore, I got up brushing the wetness from my face before walking to my wardrobe and pulling out a case, shoving all the clothes inside any way I could get to fit. I didn't want to waste time folding even thought I would have had more room if I had, I just needed to leave before she decided to follow me inside for another go.  

 When I had finished with the wardrobe, I had very little room left when I reached my dresser. Pulling the first drawer open I felt my heart come to a stop and my breathe hitch in my throat as I reached inside, taking the large sum of cash Tommy had given me many months before into my hand, relief washed over me.

 I had a way out.

Taglist 

@shelbyteller @seleneshelby @forgottenpeakywriter @babayaga67 @sweetmilkshakeluminary @slutforcoffein​

[luckyasfuck]

back seat of his car [k. bakugou]

pairing // katsuki x fem!reader

warnings/themes // NSFW, mafia leader!katsuki, illegal racer!katsuki, mentions of stalker!reader, gun violence, katsuki point his gun at your neck, katsuki checks under your skirt without conset, slight knife play, breeding kink, creampie,

synopsis // finally gathering your courage to confess to the guy you’ve been admiring, the night takes a dark turn when he assumes you’re working for his enemy, and all the secrets unfold.

word count // 2.5k

a/n // i am aware that race cars don’t have passenger seats nor back seats, just shut up and read already.

tonight was exciting. the skirt you wore hung beautifully around your hips, giving your thighs the attention they very much deserve. the nights were always cold, but you’d do anything to get bakugou katsuki to glance at your way. tonight was the night you’d finally make a move after practically stalking the male car racer for weeks now. it was obvious he knew about your ministrations, he’d look back here and there and become more cautious as the nights dragged out. 

a black face mask covers your face, the competition was illegal and it would be a bitch to be caught by those bastards that call themselves cops. boots clicking on the pavement, you speed-walked to the street. the muffled screams and sounds of cars grew louder as you turn the corner, already seeing people cheering the racers on. pushing through the crowd, you manage to slip through the dudes that called themselves ‘guards’ and onto the road. a quick span around the area and you see him.

katsuki is wearing a black leather jacket, his infamous skull shirt underneath and black pants to match the aesthetic of his black racer car. his blonde hair is messy as he takes off his helmet, leaning on the car. you gulp, could you really do this? the satisfying click of your boots makes the respected racer glance at you, eyeing you up and down. with a quick and confident, you eye his car. “that’s a really fucking pretty car.”

he scoffs, “you competing here, woman? don’t even try.” he clicks his tongue. “why? cause i’m a woman?” a death glare is sent his way before you chuckle, leaning on his car too. “no, cause it’s really risky. police are gonna raid this area any second now, that’s why i parked here near this alleyway just incase.” 

huh? “and how would you know that?” the crowd screams louder and your voice is barely heard, new racers coming in from all areas. the sound of their car engines fill the silent night and you watch katsuki pull his phone out, texting someone. this fumes you, does he have a girlfriend or something? i’ll fucking kill her-

“so,” the phone is shoved back inside his pocket, now his attention is all on you. half-lidded vermillion eyes stare into yours as he smirked, putting his hand inside his pocket. “where’s your car?” his eyes span the area, looking for a car that you might own and use. “oh, i’m not racing.”  this response shocks him, looking at you with knotted eyebrows and his head tilted slightly to the side. 

“how’d you get past those guys?” the ‘guards’ push the crowd away harshly, preventing them from entering the road. they push, throw, do anything to keep the crowd at bay. they’re pretty big guys so they don’t get beat up that easily. “i’m a woman.” you reply with a giggle.

“and i may have told them i know you.” 

the blonde’s phone dings with a notification, “do you really know me now?” he reads through the text with a smirk. muffled police sirens are heard and the crowd silences for a minute before everybody’s frantically exiting the street, the car racers getting in their car and driving off full speed.

fuck, where you gonna go no-

the sound of a car door opening breaks you from your trance as you see flashes of red and blue lights rounding the corner. “get in.” katsuki rushes to his side of the car and without a thought, you enter his car. with a quick and professional manuever, the both of you are rushing through the empty and dark alleyway in seconds. the darkness seems endless until the blonde turns the corner and stops. looking back, he squints his glowing red eyes to check for any police cars. 

a relieved sigh leaves his lips and he gets out the vehicle, leaving you confused. a hand opens your side of the car and you’re yanked outside harshly, “what the fuck?!” a loud thud fills the silent alleyway as your back hits the hard concrete. a sound of metal is heard and the next thing you knew, katsuki has you pinned on the wall with a gun held straight to your throat. “don’t fucking think i haven’t seen you lurking around.” 

how were you supposed to know that your harmless stalking sessions meant so much to him? you gulped, forcing yourself back on the wall trying to detatch your sweating neck from his cold gun. “you working for deku or something, hm?” the weapon is shoved into your skin more and your eyes close in fear. “i... i don’t know who that is.”

katsuki tears the weapon away from you and the sound of a loud bang makes you whimper, eyes tearing up. “oh really, now?” opening your eyes, a tear trickles down your cheek as you looked up at his hand pointing the gun he just shot to the sky. noticing this, katsuki puts it back in it’s place against your neck. “i- i really don’t! i just stalked you... cause- cause i liked you and you’re- you’re hot.” you admitted, fearing for your life. 

ignoring the confession, katsuki kneels down and using his unoccupied hand, he uses the flashlight on his phone. his hand hoists your skirt up without warning, attaching the hem to your waistband as he shined the flashlight on your thigh. expecting to see the symbol for deku’s little clan on your thigh, his hand is already on the trigger, ready to pull it and end your life.

but he saw nothing, just your bare, quivering thighs. and maybe your lace panties too, but he looked away before he could stare at it for too look. with a harsh movement, he fixes your skirt and pulls the weapon away from your neck before grabbing your collar and staring right into your eyes.

“listen here, you fucker. you like me don’t you?” a relieved sigh leaves your lips and you nod, staring back into his lust-filled eyes. “i’ve been fucking stressed lately, and you fucking added to that. so let me fuck you into oblivion as a punishment.” the straight forward statement made your pussy wet.

it was the fact that he still asked that made you agree, even after you life was fucking threatened 30 seconds ago. katsuki bakugou may be bad, but he’ll never stoop to that level. plus, it could be a form of sorry for pointing a gun to your neck and almost pulling the trigger. in the back of his head, he made sure he would make you feel like a fucking princess.

it was an ‘in the moment’ kind of thing, the car was heated and condensation pooled at the windows as you and katsuki made out with each other, his thigh making its way in between your legs to rub your clit on the rough material of his jeans. the shirt you wore was cut open by the knife he kept in his pocket and in an instant, he attacks your collarbones and a hand creeps up to cup your boob under your matching lace bra, your nipple being twisted around by his fingers. “you fucking slut. you absolute whore. getting off to someone who almost ended your life? yeah, you want this cock in your slutty fucking pussy, don’t you?” 

without you noticing, he had ripped off his leather jacket and shirt. you drooled over his toned torso, admiring his abs and the slight hint of a blonde happy trail leading straight down into his pants. unconsciously, your hand goes to graze your fingers down his bare upper-half, trailing down the blonde hair leading you to where you wanted to touch before you cupped the large tent in his pants “yes, i want it.” you whimpered out, squeezing his bulge slightly, making him grunt.

katsuki massages your inner thigh as his unoccupied hand goes to unzip his fly and rid himself of any remaining clothes. as soon as his underwear is out of the way, his cock slaps right against his lower stomach and you stare in awe, gulping. the size and girth intimidated you, but this is exactly what you wanted. he strokes himself a few times before teasing your sensitive clit with his tip, moaning at the feeling of your lace panties against his slit. your panties are soon yanked off, katsuki leaving them dangling off your ankle as he propped himself between you, hands pinning your wrists above your head and your legs hoisted up on his shoulders. 

he angles his cock to tease at your entrance, smirking at you. “come on, beg for it.” the tip goes in and out of you and you whimper out in a frantic state, “please! just- just put it in already, i want it, i want it, i want it- fuck!” your toes curl in both pleasure and pain when katsuki slams inside your without warning. the stretch burned, he was probably the biggest thing you’ve put inside you in a while. his hips still and he looks down, admiring the way your cunt swallowed him up, feeling you clench around him. “good girl.” an unoccupied hand grips your hips as he started to thrust into you slowly before gradually picking up the pace until he was pounding into you.

the car shook back and forth as the racer railed you in the backseat, skin slapping and moans prominent even outside the car. “fuck! t-too deep, bakugou, too-” a pair of lips slam into yours, cutting your sentence off. katsuki ignores your complaints and lets out a dark chuckle. “am i hitting your womb, slut? that’s what you wanted, right? you want me to fuck my babies into you so you’ll be swollen for nine months.”

“ye-”

“no. we can’t have my little fuck toy be too sensitive for sex, right? you’re my fuck toy, my cumslut. mafia boys like me are always stressed and need obedient girls like you with tight fucking cunts to keep sane.” there’s no time to think about the term he used for himself as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mind going blank as you neared your orgasm. cumming all over his cock with a loud moan, your legs quiver as katsuki goes faster and sloppier, chasing his own orgasm. his hips stutter when he cums, painting your insides his shade of white. a few more thrusts and he pulls out of you, panting. he stares straight at your glistening pussy, watching his semen slowly seep out of you.

the sight makes whimper, feeling himself getting hard all over again. “i hope you can take more, princess.” the grip on both your wrists becomes tighter and you let out a loud moan, tears spilling from your eyes down your cheeks as katsuki bottoms out inside you for the second time that night. “’cause i’m not stopping for anything.” he doesn’t wait for anything and starts pounding into you again, abusing that sweet little hole of yours. “bakugou! fuck! too much!” your legs quiver, but his speed doesn’t falter. instead, he goes faster.

lips attach to suck on the supple skin of your neck, “call me katsuki.” he whispers, biting your neck softly. “k-katsuki, gonna cum again.” you cried out, fingernails digging into the hand that kept your hands at place. “then cum, cum all over this cock again. no one, and i repeat, no one is ever gonna make you feel this good. got it?” the question is left unanswered when a loud moan erupts from your throat as you came. katsuki follows a few thrusts after, moaning uncontrollably.

the both of you pant, a heavy layer of sweat covering both your bodies. katsuki pulls out of you, instantly replacing his cock with two of his fingers, making you jump as he scissors them inside you. “katsuki, n-no more... please...” you begged, whining.

“shh...” he calms you down, pulling his fingers out and prodding them at your lips. “suck.” the command instantly has your lips encaging around his fingers covered in both of your love juices. a moan escapes your lips at the taste, pulling away once you’ve lapped all of it up. the car becomes silent, katsuki taking a roll of tissue from the corner of his car, starting to clean you up. large arms gently keep you from jumping up from the overstim. “just a little more, it would be uncomfortable if you had cum dripping all over your thighs.” a choked ‘okay’ leaves your lips as he cleaned up the remnants of his orgasm. 

“there,” the window opens and katsuki throws the used tissues outside. “are you hurt anywhere?” he helps you sit yourself up on his lap gently, his red eyes looking all over your body for any bruises he might have left. “i’m fine, thanks.” you panted out, smiling at him. the blonde looks away, gently setting you down and handing you his shirt. “sorry for tearing yours.” he picks up his clothes and the weapons on the ground, starting to dress himself. you did the same, heart jumping in joy at his scent on the shirt. 

the both of you climb to the drivers and passenger seat, katsuki still half-naked. the black jacket is thrown to your exposed thighs and you look at him in confusion. “you’ll get cold-” a hand keeps the jacket on your thighs as the car starts. “i can handle it.” he started to drive through the rest of the alleyway. “whatever you say.” you stay put in your seat.

“i’m... part of a mafia group.” katsuki starts. “deku, the guy i assumed you work for, he wants my head. i don’t know why, but i am sure not losing to a broccoli looking headass. and since you couldn’t mind your fucking business, you’re involved now.”

“how so?”

“i need to keep you at arms length. not to protect you or anything! it’s so you can’t go around telling everybody, and i still don’t know if you really work for that bastard or not.” the car rounds into an abandoned street. god, you were gonna get killed, weren’t you? you thought as he stopped at a worn out house, stepping out the car. “come on.” 

his footsteps are loud, and you do follow him. he left his weapon inside the car, as if to make you trust him. “we were pretty sure that you worked for deku, but i think you’re too dumb for that. don’t be surprised.” the blonde warns as you both near the door. nothing was heard inside. katsuki opens the door and in an instant, metal clads with metal and 6 guns are pointed straight at you. but with a raise of katsuki’s hand, all the guns are put down. you shook uncontrollably in your spot, maybe the fact that you could barely walk from what you guys did earlier. “she doesn’t work for dek-”

“she’s pretty.” another blonde smiles at you, waving and winking. as you’re about to wave back awkwardly, katsuki pulls you beside him by your waist. “don’t even fucking try, denki.”

“she’s mine.”

[biggest-stupidhead]

more modern au levi x reader!! is it okay where reader makes petra jealous???

Just a reminder: WE DO NOT CONDONE PETRA SLANDER IN THIS HOUSE!!!

with that said, I will write this heavily focused on Petra to make it a lil angsty, hope you enjoy!

Summary: Petra watches her ex fall for another

Word Count: 1.7K

__ 

It had been two long years since Petra and Levi ended things. It wasn’t messy but it was painful, she had seen it coming from a mile away. He had grown just as distant as he had been when they first met. Staying late at work, texting her dryly, and using terrible excuses. Although she had known it was coming, she still was a wreck when he actually ended things. She spent the months following the break up drinking wine and crashing at Oluo’s place regularly. After two years she was finally feeling better, dare she say, ready to get back into the dating scene? Or at least that’s what she thought, she was scrolling through her instagram feed when she stumbled across Hange’s page. It was someone’s birthday, someone she wasn’t familiar with. 

A woman with bight eyes and an even brighter smile was in the center of the group photo. On her right was Levi, who had an arm thrown casually over her shoulder, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. Petra pinched the screen to zoom into Levi’s side, where she saw a feminine hand on his waist. She stared stupidly at the image. She shouldn’t feel jealous, she had no right. It had been two long years since the break up. But the picture only dredged up old memories of times when she would hold Levi that same way. When that smile was directed to her. She then turned her attention to the caption, which read: 

Happy Birthday (Y/n)! 24 never looked so good!

She then scrolled through the comments, many of them consisted of birthday wishes and support. She lost interest when she didn’t see Levi’s username and instead went back to the collection of photos, three of them in all. The group one that she assumed had just been taken, the second one was a picture of Hange and you on the beach, Petra felt a involuntary wave of self consciousness wash over her at the site of you in a swim suite. The final picture was the one that hurt the most though, it seemed to be a very old picture of you, maybe from your early years in college? You were sitting on a couch with younger versions of Hange, Erwin, Levi, and Moblit. Levi’s arm was casually thrown over your shoulders. Why had he never mentioned you before? Were you the reason that they broke up? No Levi had assured her that it wasn’t like that, said he wasn’t seeing anyone else. She tried to stop herself from going down that rabbit hole, but she couldn’t seem to. Before she really knew what she was doing, she had clicked on your profile which she was almost disappointed to find as public. This meant that there was nothing stopping her from judging every perfect image that was posted, and to her pleasant surprise, there was only one photo of you and Levi. The photo was posted the week prior, the two of you were hiking in the mountains, the dusty trial behind you. Your face was flushed from the exertion of the climb, Levi seemed cool as a cucumber, his face blank and void of emotion. She scrolled through the post and found a video, the sound of your shoes crunching and Levi talking behind you were clear as day. 

“I mean come on, who uses fucking Lipton? Have some god damn class.” Levi spat, as you snorted in amusement. Petra found herself chuckling along with you at Levi’s little rant. She felt a rogue tear slide down her cheek when you showed the phone to Levi, who’s face fell from being mildly animated to apathetic once more. You cackled as he swiped the phone and the video ended abruptly. It was so innocent, it was clear from the rest of your page that you were a private person, much like Levi. With little indication that you were dating him, it left her wanting to know more. More about the girl that had taken her place, had managed to worm her way into Levi’s heart of stone and make herself comfortable. As soon as these thoughts crowded into her head, she deleted instagram all together and powered her phone down, determined to wipe her memory of the images she had seen. 

__

The music was a nice distraction from the awkwardness that hung in the air. You had arrived uncharacteristically early to Hange’s party, and consequently meeting a whole group of people that you had never met before. The new people were about your age, three young men and one stunning young woman. It was early fall and Hange’s annual bonfire bash as you all had dubbed the event. Basically you lit a massive fire, when you were younger it was your past assignments from your pervious school year, then it became just regular old wood. You tapped your finger against the cool beer bottle as you leaned up against the counter, the men were laughing obnoxiously as they dropped the alcohol that they’d brought into one of the many coolers. The woman was looking at you almost nervously, she seemed extremely on edge, shifting her weight back and forth, eyes wandering around the room in a jittery manner. You frowned, wondering what was bothering her, but ultimately deciding that it was not really your business. Erwin shimmied behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he slide past you into the kitchen. You caught his arm, clinging to his familiar presence. 

“Erwin.” you hissed as he stooped to reach your level. 

“Who are these people?” you asked as you held his bicep firmly in your grasp. He pulled away and looked at you with a confused expression. 

“You mean Levi didn’t tell you?” He said slowly, clearly he was unsure if it was his place to speak on the relationship between Levi and these people. 

“No....” You said carefully, not wanting to make Erwin uncomfortable. 

“Oh well they used to work in the same department before Levi switched.” He said, he looked over to the men and motioned for them to come over, they ambled over with curious expressions. 

“What’s up Erwin?” the dark haired man asked as he looked between the two of you. 

“Just thought I’d ought to introduce you to (Y/n) here, she’s an old friend of ours from high school.” Erwin explained, his hand still comfortingly placed on your mid back. You waved shyly and smiled at all of them, including the girl. 

“Pleasure to meet you.” The blonde with a ponytail said, outstretching his hand to shake yours. 

“I’m Eld, this is Gunther, Oluo, and that fine young lady over there is Petra.” He said, pointing at all of them respectively. 

“It’s so nice to meet you guys!” you said sweetly as you struck up a conversation with Oluo about what they thought about the department that they worked in. It didn’t go unnoticed that Petra remained nearly silent, her amber eyes wide and a bit fearful. When the interns arrived, the men were quick to go help them carry in the alcohol that they brought, leaving you and Petra alone in the kitchen. You cocked your head at her as you poured some pretzels into a large bowl. The warm glow of the setting sun cast a halo over her head and you couldn’t help but voice your admiration for her. 

“You’re really pretty.” you gushed as she blushed at your words and turned to look at you with wide eyes. 

“So are you...” She returned the compliment and you smiled, feeling more at ease now that the two of you were alone. 

“So how long have you known Hange?” You asked conversationally as you crumpled up the bag and tossed it into the trash. 

“Hm let’s see...about four years now?” She responded with a bit of a wistful tone. 

“Really? I’m surprised we haven’t met sooner!” you chuckled as the two of you opened a bottle of wine and poured it into two large glasses. The two of you strolled out into the bark yard, where Hange and Moblit were chucking large pallets of wood onto the fire pit. You and Petra sat down in two lawn chairs watching as Hange and Moblit bickered over if it was safe enough to light the fire with gasoline. 

“I am too, you seem....like a really nice girl.” Petra said a bit downcast as she looked deeply into her wine. 

“So do you! We should grab breakfast ooo or maybe even brunch sometime!” You said excitedly and Petra sat there in awe, wondering if there was even a mean bone in your body. Or if you had any clue that she had dated Levi. 

“Yeah...this is kind of random but...are you dating Levi?” She blurted out, her face turning to look at you with a flushed expression. You nodded nonchalantly and took another sip of your wine. 

“Yeah we just started dating about a year ago.” You said with a shrug, Petra inhaled, readying herself for the next words that would either make or break the future relationship between the two of you. 

“Did...you know we dated?” she said, cringing when the words left her mouth. She sounded crazy and she knew it, but she felt obligated to clear the air between you before it got bad. 

“Hm I think he mentioned it once or twice, and Hange told me about you when you first started dating.” You said looking up thoughtfully, your tone held no malice or any sign of ill will. 

“You’re not...” 

“Insecure? Nah, and don’t take that like I’m being cocky! I just mean that...” 

“No, no let’s just not do this. I’m sorry for bringing it up. God I’m such a bitch.” Petra went to stand and you followed her, catching her wrist. 

“It’s alright really, I don’t care about what happened between you and Levi. It’s frankly none of my business, I just...wanna be friends with you.” you smiled at her sheepishly as she looked at you with wide eyes. 

“Oh” She managed to say dumbly. 

“That is if you want to be friends.” You said, letting go of her hand and giving her some space. 

“Yeah...I think that I’d like that very much.” Petra said with a bright smile. 

__

In honor of Women’s History month, I couldn’t bare to write something that was a stereotypical jealous ex, so I did the next best thing and wrote this more geared towards the reader and Petra bringing each other up instead of tearing one another down. As someone who was apart of the fandom back in like 2014 I am way too familiar with writers turning Petra into a psycho bitch, and I don’t like that. SO I hope that this is good enough to fit the prompt! 

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances: Ch. 24: Important Questions (Wedding)

AO3

Prev

Marinette pouts from her spot on the couch, shoving another spoonful of cookie dough in her mouth. She makes her eyes as big as possible, channeling Manon as she tries to emulate the younger girls’ puppy dog eyes.

“Silena, your kid’s eyes are breaking my heart. Look at her!” Harley cries, pointing at Marinette’s face. Silena rolls her eyes.

“Don’t give in Harls, remember what happened the last time we watched it?” Silena reminds her, and Marinette resists the urge to huff at her soon-to-be stepmom. Or, bonus mom, as she’d taken to mentally calling her. Stepmom had such an unfair negative context thanks to fairytales, and she actually really liked Silena. Except in this one moment. At this moment, they were on opposite sides of the war.

“Please Auntie Harley! Please!” She begs again, sitting up so that she can make direct eye contact with the woman. If she was any good at the ‘Manon stare’ as she called it, then Harley would be giving up in 3, 2, 1-

“Okay! I give! Looks like we’re watching Mamma Mia next.” Harley calls out, leaning over to grab the remote and turn the movie on. Marinette grins widely, settling back on the couch and curling into Selina’s side. Selina huffs.

“You’re lucky I love you, kitten. Last time we watched this Harley got in trouble for her impromptu ABBA concerts.” She complains, and Marinette’s grin widens.

“Really?” She says, then she gasps as the best idea comes to mind. “I just realized something.”

“What is it kiddo?” Harley asks, popping a handful of Reese's Pieces in her mouth.

“You guys can be Donna and the Dynamos.” She says, before miming a small explosion. This was awesome! Amazing! She could- whoa. She could even design them a group outfit with the characters in mind. She could already imagine all the ways she could improve on the original design. Of course she’d keep the bell bottoms, they were a staple of the time. And she knew her bonus mom and aunts would rock a good pair of bell bottoms. The major changes would come with the material type, the colors, and the sleeves of the suits.

“If we perform another musical on a roof Batsy’s gonna get mad.” Harley says with a sigh. Marinette purses her lips as she thinks. She was technically already on thin ice. She’d stolen the Batmobile earlier in the week, and had managed to worm her way into regular patrols. Which was technically her dad’s fault, but he still looked frustrated the first night she walked down and asked who she was patrolling with. But she was finally patrolling with them regularly, even if it felt like she had a babysitter some of the time (all of the time). She was supposed to always be with her dad or Dick (apparently she’s not allowed to go out with just Jason or Damian because they caused ‘trouble’ when they were left unsupervised). So she went, but it was more stifling than patrols in Paris. Patrols which she’d had to lighten up on, with the lack of attacks and the way it tired out Kaalki before there was even an emergency. It was wrong. But if she kept one of Gotham’s former rogues off the crime path with catchy tunes and bell bottom pants, who was her dad to judge?

---

Apparently her dad wouldn’t judge. Dick on the other hand..

“How can you do this to me? This is an absolute, utter, complete, total-”

“Dick, calm down! What’s wrong, talk to me.” Marinette hushes her older brother, looking at him worriedly. He takes a deep breath.

“I can’t believe you would stoop so low. After the hurtful things you said about my discowing suit?” He sniffles, throwing a hand over his heart. Marinette blinks, then realizes what the man was talking about.

“Is this about the Donna and the Dynamos outfits that I designed for those girls?” Marinette asks frowning. Dick lets out a pained moan, contorting his face as if he was in actual pain.

“I thought you cared about me! I thought we were close!” He cries. Marinette huffs, shoving him lightly.

“If I designed your discowing suit, it wouldn’t have been godawful. We would have used the disco elements in a way that didn’t suck. Ya know, like I did with the Sirens’ outfits?” She says, patting his back. “Just because I hated your suit doesn’t mean I hate you.” She reassures him. Though the distressed groan he lets out lets her know that he’s still taking it to heart. Oops.

---

“Hey! I’m here. I brought ice cream, like Harley asked.” Marinette announces, using the key Silena had given her to get into the apartment. She frowns at the emptiness of the apartment. She’d never seen it so devoid of life. Someone (usually Harley) was always there to greet her and pick her up into a huge hug. Not today though, which put her on edge. Creeping forward slowly, she glances around the room, looking for any potential danger. Or clues on where the Sirens might be. Had they forgotten about her? Just as she’s about to text Silena, music seeps into the apartment and she tenses. Until she sees her bonus mom and aunts. In their Dynamo outfits. Performing “Super Trouper”. With choreography and everything. Marinette lets out a short laugh, grinning widely at the three who just laugh and continue singing.

“Cause somewhere in the crowd there’s you.” Selina sings, pointing dramatically at Marinette. Marinette runs over and stands next to Silena, moving quietly and copying their movements. She’s pleasantly surprised at the level that she’s able to keep up with them, laughing with glee as the song continues. Once it’s done, the three women wrap her in a hug and Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed together.

“Ya know, I love that I got to see the outfits in action and everything, but was there a reason for the dramatics?” Marinette asks with a teasing smile. Silena glances at the other two before nodding.

“Marinette, sweetheart, I wanted to ask if you would be one of the bridesmaids.” Silena says and Marinette freezes. She swears she bluescreens. Bridesmaid? Her? She’s a disaster. She can’t do anything right and then her dad and Silena will be upset with her but then they’ll get more disappointed at each other and when she tries to fix it they won’t let her and instead they’ll send her away and say they never wanna see her again because she’s an awful bridesmaid and-

“Kitten, I need you to breathe.” Silena’s voice breaks through the haze she’s found herself in. Marinette blinks slowly, trying to break herself out of whatever hell her mind had managed to suck her into today.

“Why me?” Is what’s able to escape her mouth. It’s the only question that is able to breath past the barrier that Marinette set up for herself.

“Because you’re my daughter, whether you like it or not. So I want you to be part of the wedding, more than just someone who shows up for the food in a fancy outfit. Though that can definitely be your motivator.” Silena says, looking slightly unsure as she watches Marinette’s face- probably looking for any visible cues of discomfort. Marinette grins widely before throwing herself forward, wrapping her arms around the older woman, melting in the arms of the woman who truly was her second mom. She sighs in content at how safe she feels, how at home she is. It was strange for her, how quickly Gotham had managed to worm its way into her soul. Strange, but definitely something that they would figure out. She had to. She refused to lose either side of her family- civilian or not.

Next

Tag list:  @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @laurcad123 @waiting247 @jayjayspixiepop @mizzy-pop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @lady-bee-fechin @corporeal-terrestrial

[austarus]

Harrison Wells (Eobard Thawne) x Reader Ballistic Confrontations (1/3)

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif belongs to me!

Yes, I’m alive.

*TW: mentions of suicide, drowning, and cutting. Along with Eobard being a dramatic bitch*

Word Count: 3184

Part 2   Part 3

Felicity deadpanned with Harry beside her on one of the Cortex monitors. She had glanced to all her friends. “The bottom line is that we have to catch these parallel-earth goose-steppers.” Everyone was well aware of her dislike towards Nazi’s. The things they had done on this earth to her ancestors and to people like her. Utterly Disgusting.  

“This might help,” Barry stepped in, holding up a blood-stained arrow.

“Is that a kryptonite arrow?” Kara’s sister, Alex, unfurled her arms as she gently took the lethal arrow away from him.

“Yup,” Barry responded with a sigh, hands at his hips while the others rounded together. He felt exhausted from chasing around Eobard while Kara and Oliver dealt with their doppelgangers. Years later and he still wasn’t fast enough to stop the yellow speedster.

“I know I shouldn't have to ask this question, but I have to ask this question.” Felicity interjected with quick words; worry seeded in her chest. “Oliver didn't shoot Kara, did he?”

“Sort of,” Barry replied, further clarifying with a face. The days just keep getting worse and worse with these parallel-dimension-hoppers. “The other Archer and flying woman are Oliver and Kara of Earth-X.”

“When you said that Earth-X was horrible,” Caitlin glanced back at Harry, who had raised a hand in mock defeat, “you might have undersold it.”

“Wait a minute. How- how could there be another Kara?” Alex was thoroughly confused; she was still new to the concept of parallel earths doppelgangers.

“Well, there are 53 Karas, just like there's 53 Kryptons and 53 Earths.” Harry explained simply.

“And the Thawne from our earth is working with them.” Barry gave a look, clearly annoyed at the fact that Thawne was back. Again. Thawne coming back due to time travel and the Speedforce were already giving him a headache just thinking about it all over again.

Caitlin just gave Barry an incredulous look. “He's an idiot.” Harry plainly stated.

Felicity already was thinking up of ways to track them down. “Ok, if that arrow has not-so-Supergirl's blood on it, we c—"

“We could track it using quantum analysis.” Harry cut her off, but she just nodded at his words.

“We could.”

***___***

“Harry, Cait, Iris,” Barry unfurled his arms and gestured to them with his head for a sidebar. The others were busy with Alex in isolating the city for Kara-X’s radioactive blood signatures. Felicity’s specialty. After all, she was able to track a deranged killer with just his face cream. “Whatever happens, (Y/N) can’t know Thawne’s here.” Both scientists gave odd looks to each other at the speedster’s words.

“Barry she’s going to find out one way or another, she’s part of this team too,” Iris voiced, side-glancing the door as if you’d step in at any moment.

“If he’s working with them, she has the right to know.” Caitlin added. “She should know what to expect.”

“Allen, unless you decide to lock her up in the pipeline until this is all over, she’ll find out.” Harry said. “You can’t possibly hide this from her forever.” The genius scientist hinted at the fact that when Barry had run back in time last year, Thawne had been the one to ‘fix’ things when really, he had altered the timeline. A timeline created to suits him and his plans. Even going as far to tell Barry that this was how the timeline was supposed to be before Thawne had caused the alteration when he had time-traveled back to kill Nora and escalated into what is now Team Flash. Three different timelines had been created, but this one, according to Thawne, is how the original one should have been. Just with a few… absences… Like Eddie and Ronnie. Barry had never mentioned any of this to you or the fact that Thawne had ended up escaping him that night. The scarlet speedster did not want you looking for the man in the yellow suit. But it seems that fate’s not on Barry’s side this time.

“Harry, I can’t have her chasing after him. Not with all this going on,” Barry protested. “One maniacal problem at a time.”

“Whether she does or doesn’t is up to her, Allen. You’re not a god.” Harry pursed his lips before heading to the side lab.

Barry ran his tongue over his lips tightly, frowning deeply at the echoed words. He didn’t need this right now. Those words stung the speedster, mainly with the aftermath of his time remnant – Savitar - claiming god-hood, wanting to alter everything and anything in his way to stay alive. Even to kill the love of his life. Jay Garrick told him that when he ran back to this timeline a year ago. ‘We’re not gods, Barry.’

How did Wells know about that? Maybe he didn’t. But it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that time-traveling powers shouldn’t be abused like that. Yet… Thawne always gets away with it. He gets away with barely a scratch. I can be one step ahead, but he’ll be 15 steps further.

Caitlin gave her friend a sympathetic look, exchanging one with Iris. Alex and Felicity were still present in the room, but too preocuppied with their blood sample. Barry’s intentions made sense, but it was your decision whether to chase after Thawne or not. It’s your choice on whether you’d even side with him for this battle.

***___***

You had stood right outside the Cortex in the corridor, your feet stopped when you heard Barry announce that “Thawne is working with them”. Your heart got caught in your chest. Eobard was here. He was back. But why in the hell would he ever work with Nazis? Nazis? Seriously Eo??? What the absolute fuck? You knew Eobard never had a tolerance for people like that. People like Eiling or Stagg, who would “poke fun” at those with disabilities, even if he had feigned his inability to walk in the end. People who would intentionally use their status to torture others. It just goes to show how people with that kind of caliber would think. So why this sudden change? Not ‘why now’. No, why at all?? How could he have stooped so low? That idiot. Unacceptable.

But what ached the most was Barry’s words. He doesn’t trust me… Even after all these years. Your heart shook and eyes narrowed as your eyes peered at the light being cast from the Cortex. You took in a breath. Taking a quiet step back, your feet carried you to one of the higher levels of STAR Labs- one of the tower levels. Your quiet place of refuge when this had gotten too much, whether it was because the shadows kept you safe from judgment or not, you didn’t know. If he wants to act like that, then two can play this game, Bartholomew Henry Allen. You looked out onto the city, subconscious scanning every light – every street. Lights winked in and out, the night progressing as the city remained unaware of the new monsters it currently hid. But what am I going to do?

***___***

Iris rubbed her eyes before taking a step closer to her almost-husband. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I can’t have (Y/N) fighting with us. Not now. Not in this battle.” Not when he’s lurking around.

“Why?”

“You know why? Thawne’s out there. Running, scheming.”

“So, you don’t trust her.” It was more of a statement rather than a question.

“Iris, she knew what he did to my mom. Lied to us about it for months back then and still chose Thawne when we locked him up. What makes this time different?”

“Barry, while all those sound like good points, first and foremost she’s our friend.” The speedster just shook his head, Iris huffed, “Look, it’s been -what?- 3? 4 years? Since she’d last been with him? Things have changed. You think after everything we’ve been through; she’ll throw that all away?”

“Yes! Old feelings come back; they always do and she’s going to get her revenge.”

“How do you know that? How do you know that she wants revenge?”

“Thawne will coax it out of her. He’s good at manipulating a person’s feelings.”

“And what would she get in the end?”

Barry didn’t answer her, instead he wrung his hands together.

“Barr, if she had wanted revenge, she would have done so already after the incident. But she didn’t. (Y/N) was depressed after Thawne was erased. Vulnerable. The love of her life was gone, just like that. Don’t you remember? How she wanted to end it all, but we stopped her.” Barry’s eyes flickered to the ground, remember the sight he had seen. Drowning. You were purposefully drowning yourself in your tub. The way your looked back at him- lifeless- when he had gotten you back to your senses. The blood the dripped, your cold skin. The monitor beeping every so often in the Cortex. Iris’ own mind shifted to when she had seen the scars littered on your arms when Caitlin had fully examined you. Your dull hair and gaunt face, nothing like the brilliant fire that rang through you months prior to Eobard’s erasure. “We helped her work through it when we found out. Caitlin and I looked after (Y/N) every second of the day until she was ready to get back on her two feet. And then Zoom happened and he was breaking you. Breaking your bones and your spirit- when you broke your back, she was all-hands-on-deck to step in and help in your place while still dealing with her own issues.”

“I know, it’s just- something just tells me otherwise with Thawne here.”

“Barry-”

“-She’s going to choose him, Iris. Nothing will change that. To her, everything we’ve been through until this point won’t mean anything. Not when Thawne’s at the end of the tunnel waiting for her. She’s going to choose him and help him.”

“But what if she doesn’t? What then, Barr?”

Barry just shrugged. “I-I don’t know, but I can’t take any chances. Not this time.” I can’t hesitate with Thawne here. One misstep and that’ll be all he needs to make his move.

Iris reached out to her fiancé, gently caressing his cheek. She knew that he won’t change his mind, no matter the reasons she could come up with. Barry thought in absolutes when it comes to Thawne. And your past emotional ties with the evil speedster only further drove his current mistrust. “Come on, we have to help the others.”

***___***

You threw the ball against the concrete wall opposite to you, all your strength forced into it. The stress ball ricocheted back to where you sat. You caught it with ease, giving it a firm squeeze as your eyes shut.

“How could you betray us? We were your friends, your family!-”

“You are-”

“We stood by you!”

“I just-”

“-Just what!? He took everything from me!”

You cringed at the voice from years past. Breathe in, breathe out.

“You’re just as guilty as him. No wonder, like calls to like.”

“I-”

“I don’t want your excuses.”

Breathe in, breathe out.

“I hope you rot with him.”

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Swallowing harshly, you did your breathing exercises to push Barry’s cold voice away. You had stolen the malleable ball from Harry- or rather, he had allowed you to take it from him. It was an unused gift from the others for Harry to deal with his anger issues. Instead of throwing beakers and graduated cylinders off desks, the Earth-2 scientist can simply channel his anger into this stress ball… Which had been a hard pass for him. Rather he preferred his method of anger outbursts, even if he did end up hurting himself in the process. So you put it to use instead; a tool for simple meditation, as well as the redirecting your certain senses. It’s made of rubber polymer so your electrokinesis didn’t harm your new toy in any way.

Your eyes lingered back onto the city, your arm hanging over your bent leg while your other remained outstretched. No good in hiding up here forever, it’ll make things more suspicious. Not like Barry isn’t suspecting anything anyway. But you had needed time to think, to collect your thoughts and assess what actions you would take. You touched the necklace Eobard had made for you in rich gold- a Columba. It’s a constellation signifying the dove in astrology as he always called you his little birdy. But also, because gave him a sense of peace which the dove has generally symbolized fore. A finger ran over the one of the six diamonds that twinkled for the constellation, connected to each by a trail of gold. Eobard. Licking your lips, you got up, you pocketed your ball and brushed any dust particle from your leggings.

Upon entering the Cortex, a group of heroes left: Oliver, Kara, Barry, Sara, and so on. Barry had shoved past you, your eyes meeting briefly as you raised an eyebrow. His expression was guarded, but you said nothing.

“I’m guessing they’re going on a little midnight excursion?” You turned to Felicity and Iris with a thumb pointing in their direction. Mick was nowhere to be found so you can assume he’s already raided the lounge fridge. Caitlin had already prepped the med bay for incoming injuries, which isn’t an uncommon expectation, but wasn’t in the Cortex.

“Ding ding ding, you’re correct,” Felicity piped up, typing away at her computer screen. She was already hacking into cameras around the warehouse as the inside had ones out of commission. “The remaining Legends are to be on standby, should something happen during the warehouse fight. Per Sara’s orders.” At least Felicity isn’t treating you any differently, especially with how close she is to Barry. He probably told her to.

“And we’re going to be…?” You raised an eyebrow, a bit offended no one decided to volunteer you for the fight. You wanted to kick some Nazi ass too. Fry those fuckers. Guess Barry told them all to not trust me. Great, thanks Barr. Bitterness welled up inside but didn’t show it. Felicity and Iris aren’t the ones to be at odds with. Maybe it’s a good thing if Eo’s there. Barry would have his eyes all over your interaction with him.

“Just doing some monitoring and staying on comms. The usual Overwatch stuff,” Felicity smiled up at you then quickly turned to her tech. You could tell that her mind was wondering. About what? You had no clue and decided it’d be best to not involve yourself should things go sour if you did and Barry would find a reason to blame you.

No, this reunion needed to be on the downlow. One away from prying eyes. Your eyes drifted to Iris’ back in a subtle manner before pulling out your phone to check the time.

“Where’s Harry?” You asked, if anything he was one of the people who hadn’t seen you for just your past. Didn’t care for it as Zoom terror and Jesse’s rescue were more pressing matters. And you had seen him for more than a doppelganger to Eobard, even if their tendencies and bristliness seemed similar. Harry was Harry and Eobard was Eobard. Both were their own men, it wasn’t that hard to see and understand. He had done his own share of horrors and dark deeds for Jesse that Harry was dealing with his own darkness, while your demons haunted you. In an odd way, you both understood one another. Begrudgingly at first, though. Plus, you needed to return the stress ball back to him, thinking he’d need it now with Thawne around. If anything, you found it funny how Harry got mad when people would call Thawne a Wells. The Wells doppelganger would spectacularly blow up, which was always a site to see. Though you were hoping the two would never meet. You chewed on the inside of your cheek on how that interaction could possibly go. Would you-

“He’s probably back in his lab,” Iris spoke up from the other side of the Cortex, padding up to you. You nodded at her, mind drifting once more as you strolling to the Cortex exit. Harry could hold his own, but up against Eo, with all his speed… You’d choose-

“Hey,” Iris stopped you, snapping you out of your thoughts and placing a hand on your arm. You blinked. A small smile was woven on her face, one of those comforting smiles that said that you can come to her for anything… But could you?

“Hey,” you returned it, feigning any indication that you had overheard what Barry had said earlier. Schooling your features, you calmed your nerves. I’ve done this before. Pretended not to know. I can do it again. I can’t trust no one, and it seems like no one can trust me. I’ll be the actress again in this drama, spun by Barry this time.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Sure”

Iris was perceptive, she didn’t miss the slight strain in your voice. The guarded look that the young journalist had become accustomed to receiving when approaching you. There were times where she’d realize you were walking on eggshells with her. Because of Barry. Because of the serrated words he had thrown at you like knives all those times ago. But there were times where all was well with the world, the past forgotten and the strength of your friendship with the team more prominent than ever.  Then again, having Nazi’s return and who are hell bent on ruling this Earth by eradicating its heroes then move on to the next Earth in the multiverse does tend to throw tension into the air. Iris bit her lip. Especially if she doesn’t know about Thawne.

“(Y/N), look there’s… there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“…”

“Iris, is something wrong? Are you ok?”

She noted sincerity on your face. “Thawne’s here.”

You pursed your lips, internally confused. “Iris-”

“And he’s fighting with the Earth-Xers.”

“I… what?!” Your rage was not false. Sure you knew about it earlier, but now it was necessary to unleash it. It’d make your surprise all the more legit.

“I needed you to know,” Iris swallowed.

“How?”

“When Barry, Oliver, and Kara intercepted their heist.”

“…” It was your turn to be silent. You knew, but you had to play a little longer until you could leave.

“I trust you, ok?”

“But” You knew there was a ‘but’. There always is one. Iris blinked, opening her mouth a few times then looking away before meeting your gaze once more.

“But I need to know you’re with us on this.”

Your eyes never left hers, your hand was held in both of hers. Before you could even respond an alarm had gone off. Both your necks snapped to Felicity, who snapped up from her sitting position.

“That was the corridor alarm.” Fear crippled its way in the air. “This is a setup.”

[deniigi]

A fic from Boba’s POV as a babysitter seeing Din’s family dynamics isn’t self indulgent it’s indulgent to your readers - fuck, that sounds like the best, most hilarious thing ever?!? (With peppered in bits of Boba’s identity crisis/diaspora feels)

I say you release babysitter boba fic ;) It sounds hilarious

Ask and you shall receive, anons. Beware. It’s like 11k of world building lol.

(I will post here and not on Ao3 because I’m not ready for that level of commitment rn lol)

Title: in the plains of Zeffo

Summary:

“I don’t like him,” Karren told Din.

“Concurred,” Din said.

“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.

“I will not be shamed into liking him, either,” Din asserted.

“Din,” Karren whined.

“I’ll consider coming home if it means there will be no space for Bojzka,” Din said.

(Din’s original finder’s old crush on the Armorer is rekindled after he helps her reunite with Din. He tries to win her favor, but keeps getting tripped up by Din who knows she’s not interested. Boba Fett’s POV.)

---------------------------------------------------------------------

There was little more entertaining than watching Djarin snap.

Boba ten years ago would have spat at the very idea that such meagre fare would suit his humor, but he was getting old, man. You had to take what you could get, and Djarin’s bared rage was a sight to behold.

Currently, he was locked in combat with Urro Bojzka. The Urro Bojzka. The one who even Boba had heard of, growing up on Kamino.

Dad had had some pointed feelings about Mr. Bojzka. Mainly, they revolved around how it was unfair that everyone called him an opportunistic traitor when Bojzka continued to exist and thrive in the universe at large, but Dad also had more specific feelings about Bojzka that bordered on jealousy.

Urro Bojzka was said to be the ideal Mandalorian man.

He was big. He was strong. He sounded like he’d smoked six different kinds of spice for forty years, and nothing and no one could take him down.

The cherry on top was that he was notorious for rescuing kids. The man had snatched nearly two hundred up out of smoking ruins and battlefields. A good twenty or thirty had become foundlings and then Mandalorians themselves, and counted among their number now, to Bo-Katan’s absolute glee, was their sweet, precious Din Djarin.

They should have known. Din was the epitome of Mandalorian; it figured that Urro Bojzka himself would have picked him up as a child.

Din however, had little appreciation for this fact beyond that which was only polite. He made it very clear that he’d already thanked Bojzka for taking him out of his childhood hellhole. He’d done that bare minimum and so no one could ask anything more of him.

Bojzka had other plans.

It turned out that Urro Bojzka had a thing for Din’s covert’s Armorer. God, did he have a thing. And not only did he have a thing, but he’d had it for decades.

Apparently, a thousand years ago, when Boba and Din and all the others around them had still been rolling around on dirt floors trying to eat beetles and shit, Bojzka had attempted to court Din’s Armorer. He’d gone as far and wide as a young Mando could. He’d tried flowers, perfume, credits, displays of strength and courage. He’d tried gifts of food and offers of travel. He’d even stooped so low as to read a book.

None of it had gone well for him. And that was probably because Din’s Armorer had recently proven herself to be no less than one of the heiresses of the Katzkai clan.

The Renda Bears. Those people were hard-fucking-core.

When Bo-Katan found out that Din’s ‘Goran’ was, in fact, Nomri Katzkai, the second daughter of Lanlee Katzai and the official apprentice of Fii Katzkai, the imperial Armorer himself, she threw up her hands and declared all endeavors hopeless now.

Din was one of them; he just didn’t know it. And his buir, who had removed herself from her family to be even more hardcore than anyone would have thought possible, didn’t seem overly excited to start explaining shit to him anytime soon.

So here they were. With Din about to kill one of the most famous war heroes in recent Mandalorian history over a crush that wouldn’t quit.

Bojzka smiled at him with dark eyes with scars through both of his eyebrows.

“Just a message,” he lobbied. “One letter.”

Boba would’ve fucked him. Yeah, why not? Just look at him.

“She’s busy,” Din said. “You’ll have to submit it to Eegang Quodo. That’s E-e-g-a—”

“Yeah, see. Here’s the thing, kid. This letter’s gonna be kinda personal, if you catch my drift—”

“Q-u-o—”

“—probably not great for the eyes of anyone who ain’t, you know, in on this whole relationship—”

“—d-o. He’s usually busy, too. So you probably should submit it to Paz, instead. He’ll lose it for you forever. That’s P-a-z—”

Fennec hid a razor-sharp grin behind a clenched fist. She flashed it at Boba.

‘I love him’ she mouthed, pointing at Din’s hiked-up shoulders. Even his cape seemed to have gone stiff in Bojzka’s presence.

“Din, honey. Listen to me,” Bojzka crooned. “I know you’re protective of your mama, but—”

“She’s not my mother. Don’t you fucking dare call her that, you hulking piece of—”

“Ah-ah-ah. You’re not listening. Come on. Chin up. Ears open.”

Bojzka tapped at the bottom of Din’s helmet like a CO with a teenage recruit, and Fennec just about screamed when Din went completely still and silent.

Bo-Katan met Boba’s gaze out of the corner of her eye. She mimed a syringe. Boba shook his head. If this fucker got bit, he deserved whatever infection it brought.

“Atta boy,” Bojzka said to Din’s rigid silence. “Here’s how it is: your mama and me go way, way back. And you know, after your touching reunion the other week, she even went and had a drink with me, and we got to talkin’ and started to reconnect, the old folks do. And I could read her body language, Din-Din. She wants a man. And that man’s me. So instead of actin’ like a child over all this, why don’t we—”

“She wanted Naseem,” Din snapped. “But Naseem died. Twenty years ago, he died. You just wear similar boots.”

Get ‘im, Djarin. Get ‘im.

“I—who?” Bojzka snapped.

“Naseem,” Din repeated like he was an idiot. “Traditional, bantha-sized, green armor. He worked all the time to keep all the kids in the covert fed.”

Bojzka processed this.

“Naseem what?” he asked stiffly.

“He’s dead,” Din said. “And Hajka left. So no. Goran needs neither a man or a woman, and especially not you. What she needs is a break and for Karren to stop fighting people on sight.”

Bojzka backtracked like a champ.

“Karren, that’s her youngest, right?” he asked. “Well, I bet Karren could use some sisters. I bet he’s lonely over there on, uh.”

“Zeffo,” Din gritted out. “And no. He’s not. He has three sisters. One of which is still at the covert, terrorizing him left and right.”

Even Bo-Katan could only empathize so much with Bojzka, war hero or nah.

“Why’re you all up in arms, Din? What’d I do to you?” Bojzka finally asked. “Don’t you want your buir to be happy?”

Din’s shoulders finally came down from his helmet.

“Of course, I do,” he said. “Which is why if you set so much as a toe on Zeffo, I’m taking both of your knees with me to Yavin.”

 --

Any parent would have been proud to have Din as their child. He took family honor to a level that even the Katzkai clan would have had a hard time sniffing at.

He had to have learned this from the wayward heiress. Although, if Boba was honest, he didn’t really think that the wayward heiress was all that wayward.

She’d come to visit Din on Tatooine. She was short and stocky and not terribly interested in the court or anyone outside of Din.

She wasn’t nearly as hostile as Bo-Katan expected either. She didn’t appear to love anything that she was looking at, no, but Din had explained that that was mostly because she wasn’t really a fan of him having become Mand’alor to start with.

When she came to visit, anyways, she was far more interested in getting a good fuss in to give herself peace of mind that Din was okay. That way she could then go back to dealing with the apparently endless series of crises at the new covert.

She was a great parent in that way. She even brought along her youngest, so that he could see his big brother.

That kid was fuckin’ adorable. Maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. Barely, barely, barely in armor. He was strapped into his leathers so tight, he looked like he was stuffed with straw.

He had medium-brown skin with yellow undertones and huge, nearly-black eyes. Coarse black hair poured into his face and curled around his ears—and if he thought he was going to stuff all that in a helmet one day, he had another thing coming.

He bopped after his buir when they entered the palace and stopped occasionally to stare up in awe at the palace’s high ceilings. Upon realizing that he’d lost his escort, he scampered along to catch up and did the whole thing again and again until buir had enough and snatched his hand.

He didn’t like that. He was fourteen-fifteen years old. He was too big for hand-holding, buir.

Never too old to be ignored, though.

“Goraaaaaan.”

“Hush,” the Armorer told him. “Keep up.”

He was handed off to Boba outside Din’s personal quarters, mostly because he was making such a fuss at the Armorer that she began contemplating leaving him at the palace forever. Din intervened and the kid latched onto him instead until Din convinced him that he’d be available talk just as soon as he and their buir were done speaking.

The kid’s name was Karren.

He and Boba were now best friends.

“—so Goran said, ‘I’m not having that idiot in my rooms.’ But then Eegang said, ‘we already have Paz in these rooms,’ and you’re not supposed to laugh, Mr. Fett, but we all did because we’re all stupid. So we had to do like, a thousand chores for eavesdropping.”

“So she’s not into him, then?” Fennec clarified. “He’s really into her, you know.”

“Of course, I know,” Karren lamented. “But Goran’s picky and the last person she was all close with was Hajka and we’re not allowed to talk about her anymore or Din’ll make you do two hundred push-ups while he watches.”

Amazing. Say more about Din’s oldest-child syndrome, little one.

“No, I like Din,” Karren sighed. “Now that Digo’s gone, he’s even nicer.”

Oh?

“What happened to Digo?” Boba asked as Bo-Katan joined them in curiosity.

“Digo’s a jerk is what happened,” Karren huffed. “She wanted Goran to give over the forge and join the elders, but Goran isn’t even that old. So when she said ‘no,’ Digo got mad and said that the only foundling Goran respects is Din. Which is bullshit because everyone knows that Goran has always been the nicest with Digo and Nasif—she made all sorts of excuses for them, Mr. Fett, like when they went out and got caught stealing parts like Jawas, she did four whole hunts to raise their bail. When Din gets in trouble, he takes care of it himself. He doesn’t ask Goran to do that kind of thing. And me and Shimmol just don’t get in that kind of trouble to start with—but no. Digo had to be all ‘if you don’t treat us as equals, then we’re gonna leave and start our own forge.’”

“No kidding,” Fennec said. “So they left?”

“Yeah, both of them ‘cause Nasif does anything Digo tells her to,” Karren said, kicking his feet. “And good riddance.”

Too many sisters, this one had. Boba felt for him.

“So Goran’s still recovering from that betrayal, I take it?” he asked.

Karren frowned and chewed a lip.

“I dunno,” he admitted. “No one tells me anything. I think that Goran’s been more worried about Din than them after all that happened. We thought he got crunched by the jedi—or at least I thought he got crunched. Paz says that Jedis compact Mandalorians into cubes of armor and Din’s got the best armor.”

Do not laugh at the child. Do not laugh at the child.

“I don’t think Jedis crunch Mandalorians,” Bo-Katan said generously, having snuck into the bare antechamber while everyone was distracted with the kid’s story.

“Well, I do,” Karren countered, with zero conception of who he was talking to.

Fennec beamed.

“Do you like this Urro guy?” she asked.

“No,” Karren answered immediately. “He’s sent Eegang four messages and they’re all gross.”

Yep.

It was gonna be a late puberty for this one.

“What makes them gross?” Bo-Katan asked.

“The mush,” Karren said expertly. “Bojzka calls Goran ‘Nomri.’ That’s a bad word at home. No one says that word. Goran is ‘Goran.’ The only people who call her anything else are the elders.”

“And you and your siblings, no?” Bo-Katan asked.

Karran cocked his head at her.

“Yeah, and ‘buir’ I guess, if we aren’t in trouble,” he said.

Bless him.

“Are you in trouble a lot?” Bo-Katan asked.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. I got a temper or something.”

“Is Din in trouble?”

“With buir? No, not like me and Shimmol. He’s too old to be in that kind of trouble. His trouble’s like ‘help, I fell a hundred feet off a cliff’ kind of trouble. He gives Goran indigestion, but she can’t make him reflect on falling a million feet out of a ship—Eegang says that’s called ‘rehashing trauma.’”

The covert on Zeffo sounded like it was holding itself together through sheer force of will and that alone.

Where did Boba sign up? It sounded like a fantastic experiment to pass the time.

“Are you a foundling, Karren?” Boba asked.

The kid lit up.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been with Goran for five years now. Six in a few months. My dad’s a piece of shit. He killed my mom, and Goran got him arrested for that and for what he did to my auntie.”

Well, fuck. That explained a lot.

“And you like it there—on Zeffo?” Bo-Katan asked.

Karren shrugged.

“It’s cold and wet,” he said. “I liked Nevarro better. Din was home more on Nevarro.”

Awww.

“Aren’t you proud of Din for becoming Mand’alor?” Bo-Katan asked as gently as she could manage.

Karren’s frown eased up finally.

“No,” he said. “Din should just come home. He doesn’t need to be Mand’alor or married to some jedi. He should just come home. It’s stupid; his foundling should have stayed with us from the start. We always have room for more foundlings. I dunno why he had to leave with his foundling at all.”

Bo-Katan sat back and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “If it helps, I think he just wants to come home, too.”

“So let him,” Karren blurted out to her.

Tough tits, kid. That wasn’t how it worked.

“I think we should perhaps focus on one thing at a time,” Bo-Katan said. “What do you think, Fett?”

What did Boba think?

Boba thought that he had a great idea to distract this kid from missing his big brother.

 ---

Karren was perhaps a little too small still to reach the brakes in the crawler, but you know what? So was Fennec sometimes and she did just fine.  

“Gas,” Boba said, pointing. “Neutral. Brake. Park.”

“Gas, neutral, brake, park,” Karren repeated to him with his hands on the wheel and his knobbly wrists peeking out from the gap between his gloves and his leather braces.

Bo-Katan had refused to be present or responsible for this. Fennec had told them to wait while she went and took a shot first. ‘For safety’ she said.

“What’s neutral for?”

“You’re about to tell me,” Boba said, adjusting the rear view mirrors down to kid-height.

The sound of Fennec throwing herself onto the back of the crawler rattled through to their compartment.

“That’s our signal,” Boba said. “You ready to jam?”

“Jam?” Karren asked him.

Hm.

Punch it?

“Punch what?”

The fuck kind of slang did they use at the covert?

“Rock?”

“OH. Yeah, I’m ready.”

There we go. Onward march then.

 ---

An hour later, Din sighed with Karren whining under his arm.

“There is a reason he’s not trained yet, Fett,” Din said as Karren started chomping on the bunched-up flightsuit in his elbow.

The Armorer pressed both palms into the forehead of her helmet.

The crawler had perhaps seen better days. But it had also seen worse days, and Fennec was still going through little loops of cackling at the memory of having to chase after its open tailgate. Boba didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. The kid had done amazingly well for his first time at the wheel.

“I’m leaving all of you,” Karren grated out, trying miserably to escape Din’s elbow-prison. “I want to be Mr. Fett’s foundling.”

Bless him.

“You don’t,” Din told him forcefully. “Fett can’t handle a foundling.”

Ay, Boba would drink to that. He was happy to be a foundling-sitter and borrower, though.

“Buir,” Karren pleaded.

“You make me tired, child,” the Armorer told him. “Say goodbye to vod.”

“NO.”

Din sighed. The Armorer sighed. Karren, in a beautiful 180, latched onto Din’s ribs again.

“Come hooooooome,” he pleaded with Din.

“I caaaaaaan’t,” Din drawled back at him in a delightfully uncharacteristic tone.

“These people don’t need you. We need you. Shimmol took your bed and if you don’t take it back, she’s gonna keep it.”

Din’s shoulders dropped.

“I told Shimmol that she could take my bunk, Karren,” he said. “I’m not using it—”

“BUT YOU COULD BE.”

Boba took it back. He could take on a foundling. Fuck it, why not? This one was great.

“Come here,” Din said, dragging the kid up to his toes. He knocked the front of his helmet against Karren’s forehead with enough force that the bump was noticeable. That made the kid shut up and stand up straight on his own volition again.

“Soon,” Din told him forcefully. “Behave for buir.”

“Promise,” Karren demanded.

“Ehn.”

“Din, promise.”

“I dunno, kid. I’ve got a husband and all these damn kids to worry about.”

“Bring them. All of them.”

“No room,” Din said without missing a beat. “You have no idea how much space the husband needs to thrive.”

“Well, if you don’t come, then Urro’s gonna try to move in,” Karren snapped.

Din actually paused at that. The Armorer shook her helmet.

“Territorialism becomes neither of you,” she said. “If Urro wishes to join our covert, then we will treat him as we treat any other who wishes to.”

Din’s helmet seemed to squint at her. Karren glared outright.

“I don’t like him,” he told Din.

“Concurred,” Din said.

“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.

“I will not be shamed into liking him, either,” Din asserted.

“Din,” Karren whined.

“I’ll consider coming home if it means there will be no space for Bojzka,” Din said.

“Carry on with your work and give my best to the jedi and the child,” the Armorer said with an air of dismissal. “Come, Karren. Thank you three for looking after him. Apologies for the vehicle. Come.”

Boba missed that kid already.

 --------

Bojzka, Boba had to say, really had no shame and he could almost appreciate that. Either that, or Din’s buir was a catch that the rest of them were failing to appreciate.

“How bad can it be?” the guy mused at Din’s stiff, furious hands mere days after the Armorer and Karren’s departure. “It’s a helmet, right? You can take it off with the people who matter, no?”

“We do not take it off,” Din said from between clenched teeth.

“Right, I got that. But there are exceptions for kids and spouses,” Bojzka said. “Or did I misread that part?”

Din was going to start shaking at any minute now. Bo-Katan assigned Boba the task of making sure he didn’t commit War-hero-homicide while she went off to find a calming device. It was only polite. It wasn’t Bojzka’s fault after all that he’d come in right after a tense meeting with a dissident group from Mandalore itself that made even Bo-Katan’s jaw jump.

“I think the rule is more important than the exceptions here,” Boba pointed out on Din’s behalf. “Joining the Children of the Watch isn’t something to take lightly.”

Din pointed at him wordlessly. Bojzka lazily followed the finger and then pointedly ignored Boba.

“What I’m hearing is that if we marry first, nothing changes,” he said.

Din’s index finger curled in with the rest of his knuckles until it was a fist.

“She is not looking to marry,” he said.

“What, so you speak for her now?”

“She is not looking to marry.”

“I can repeat things, too. Wanna see? You don’t speak for Nomri, Din.”

Boba was getting the feeling that Ms. Katzkai sort of did let Din speak for her in these types of situations. He was, after all, her oldest. And it sounded like he was the most loyal of her foundlings, too. If she shared anything personal with anyone besides her second in command, then it was going to be Din. That was just how these things worked.

“Did you call Eegang?” Din asked.

“I did,” Bojzka said. “He’s not especially helpful, I have to say. He keeps sending my missives back to me with grammar corrections.”

No. No. Keep it in, Boba. Keep it stoic.

“Eegang is the second CO at the covert,” Din said. “If you won’t take my word for it, then you’ll take his.”

Bojzka arched a fucked-up eyebrow.

“Eegang, the same guy who is allegedly secretly married to his partner? That Eegang?” he asked.

Din balked. Boba felt like electricity had just rocketed through him.

“Eegang is—” Din started.

“Nomri told me about him,” Bojzka said off-handedly. “She seems to think that he’s bitten off more than he can chew with taking on his last kid.”

“Eegang—”

“Something about baby being blind? Funny, did you not think that she trusted me enough to talk about her people?”

Any more of this and steam would start rising from the lip of Din’s helmet.

Thankfully, Bo-Katan returned with the jedi, AKA the calming device. Skywalker even came equipped with Grogu. They both appeared very confused and innocent, what with Skywalker drowning in his formal robes. They looked like they were going to absorb Grogu at any moment.

A+ distraction work, Kryze. Well done making yourself useful.

“Who’s Eegang?” Skywalker asked.

The line pulled taut across Din’s shoulders began to loosen.

“A comrade,” he said sharply in Bojzka’s direction.

“Is he nice?” Skywalker asked. Grogu chirped at him and resumed trying to dig into his multitude of collars.

“Very nice,” Din confirmed, staring deep into Bojzka’s eyes.

“He’s got foundlings, too?” Skywalker asked.

“Two,” Din confirmed. “Who he adores. Regardless of all challenges.”

Ah. It wasn’t just Eegang Din was protective of. It was the baby. Bojzka had really stuck his foot into that one.

“I’m sure the foundlings are fine,” Bojzka said. “It was just Nomri’s concern that—”

“Stop calling her that in my presence,” Din said. “In fact, let’s drop the whole thing now.”

 --------

Boba wanted to meet secretly-married Eegang. He sounded like he had a rich interior life. Din gave him a strong look and said that if the Armorer had left the covert, Eegang would not. One of them had to be there at all times.

Bo-Katan asked what Eegang’s speciality was.

Surprise, surprise: it was diplomacy.

Kryze was now invested. She followed Din around on his heels and suggested that if the Armorer gave words to Eegang to deliver during a formal meeting with the Mand’alor, then Bojzka might finally get the picture that Katzkai wasn’t interested in him.

Din thought about that.

He asked if this was not just a ploy for Boba and Bo-Katan to rally his covert comrades against him.

And it honestly wasn’t until he phrased it like that.

 -----------

Eegang was tall, sea-green, and in Bojzka’s face without so much as a by-your-leave.

“Three tests,” he threatened Bojzka with a baby on his hip. “One: stop sending transmissions. Two: get Elder Fayrz to approve your presence. Three: make even one of Goran’s foundlings like you. If you pass all three, your admission will be taken into consideration.”

The baby was very pink with curly hair so pale it was almost white. Its blue-gray eyes moved rapidly back and forth as it cuddled into its buir’s teal armor. Bojzka glanced from it to Eegang’s chipped helmet.

“Where did you find him?” he asked.

“Please give confirmation of your understanding,” Eegang said mechanically.

“He’s kinda cute.”

“Please give confirmation of your understanding.”

“Are you a droid or somethin’?”

“Please give—”

“Alright, alright. Fuck. This is confirmation of my understanding.”

“Excellent. This conversation is over,” Eegang said. “It is your responsibility to contact the elder and earn the approval.”

Bojzka jerked.

“Wait, what?” he said. “How am I supposed to do that if y’all won’t even let me through the door?”

Eegang’s helmet tipped so daintily to the side that Boba could have shed a tear.

“That sounds like a you-problem,” Eegang said.

 -----------

Eegang thereafter blocked Bojzka out of his mind and heart. He introduced himself with a dipping motion to Kryze and Boba that probably would have been more dramatic if he’d opted to wear a cape, which he did not. He revealed himself to be exceedingly polite and very fond of Din, though—if the gentle armor tapping and the use of the word ‘little brother’ was anything to go by. Din was usually receptive to gestures like that, Boba had learned, but not this time.

No, no. Din cared not for his ‘big brother.’ He cared only for the attention of Eegang’s baby.

“His name is Mesa,” Eegang explained after Din had kidnapped said baby. He introduced Mesa to Grogu who was stationed nearby, stuffed in the sleepy jedi’s shirt this time. . Grogu waved from Skywalker’s chest, but Mesa didn’t register the motion.

“His grandmother was quite ill, and it was her dying wish to see the child placed into the care of someone trustworthy. I have to admit, though, I may have made the decision a little rashly,” Eegang hummed as he watched Grogu lean as far as he could out of Skywalker’s clothing to try to make contact with his fellow foundling.

“Is he your first?” Bo-Katan asked.

Eegang winced.

“No, uh. I’ve got another,” he said. “She’s a huge fan of certain someones.”

“Me,” Din said without hesitation.

“And Paz,” Eegang said. “Which is a deadly combination.”

“She will be a mighty warrior,” Din informed Mesa and Skywalker. Skywalker twitched awake and didn’t understand anything that was happening. He noticed the baby, cooed, and waved with his gloved hand.

“She’s declared this one goat her nemesis and I cannot—I cannot—get her to just leave it alone,” Eegang said.

“A goat clan in the making,” Din said with approval.

“I’m hearing unnecessary commentary,” Eegang said without looking at him. “Please rephrase or shut up.”

Din seemed to gloat at the scolding. Skywalker glanced between him and his tall, teal comrade. He made his move and carefully came in to extract baby Mesa from Din’s arms to add him to his ever-growing collection. Grogu cooed again, closer now. He offered Mesa a hand, and this time, Mesa perked up and tried to grab at it clumsily.

“You manage the covert in the Armorer’s absence?” Bo-Katan asked Eegang. “You must be very dedicated to the Children of the Watch.”

“Define ‘manage’ and then ‘dedicated,’” Eegang said. “I prefer ‘accidentally charged with responsibility one too many times’ and ‘in too deep to turn back now.’”

“He’s being humble,” Din said. “Eegang has brokered peace between our covert and locals on numerous occasions.”

Eegang’s shoulders started to raise.

“Stop telling people that, they’re going to expect things from me,” he said, then popped back up like flipped switch. “Oh, I totally forgot why I even came. Jedi?”

Skywalker looked up from the conference of baby talk happening in his arms all wide-eyed, as though he’d been caught in the act of stealing imperial property.

“We did not welcome you into our covert,” Eegang said, “You must allow us to present you with a gift of welcome and entry.”

Oho. Very formal. Boba folded his arms and watched Skywalker for his reaction.

“A what?” Skywalker asked.

 -------

Bojzka was somewhat justifiably upset at the double standard going on here.

Skywalker was a jedi and yet welcomed into the covert with open arms and no admission requirements. He was, in fact, measured against his will for a set of armor. This was what Din’s buir had actually been after when she’d sent Eegang along to say hi.

Boba found that he enjoyed the reciprocation of ulterior motives that they were getting from Din’s covert. Kryze had never been happier. This was a game that she knew how to play.

“Wait no, hold up,” Bojzka interrupted. “I deserve a chance. Din, at least give me the name of one of your siblings so I can track them down with the elder.”

Din didn’t want to; there were foundlings happening and another meeting soon, but eventually even he had to give the guy something.

An honorable battle required at least two willing bodies.

 -----------

Din and Karren’s remaining sibling at the covert’s name was Shimmol. According to Din, Bojzka had next to no chance of gaining her favor because she did not leave the forge and therefore Bojzka had no access to her. Eegang corrected Din and said that Shimmol did, in fact, leave the forge, but never on her own volition.

She was preferred the dark. She hated social interaction.

To circumvent that, the Armorer had refused to induct her into the trade until she proved herself able to coexist with others. But Shimmol was eighteen, that fun age where no incentive or punishment was effective and digging your heels in was far more preferable to doing a damn thing your elders mentioned.

She’s announced that very weekend that she was officially becoming a recluse. Her present aspiration in life was apparently now to become a forge spider.

Bojzka, along with everyone else, had no idea how to receive this information. Kyrze took it upon herself to pat Bojzka on the shoulder and tell him to start with the elder. He might actually have some luck that way.

 -------

It took two weeks for Bojzka to re-emerge from whatever hellhole he’d had to walk a tightrope across to locate the covert’s elder Fayrz. He climbed in through Din’s personal quarters’ window and interrupted him and the Jedi in a moment of infrequent intimacy.

The sound of a body being throw over a bannister had a special kind of thud to it. Boba was up on out of his quarters in an instant.

Din flung Bojzka’s helmet after him. Skywalker had the grace to cover Djarin’s face with his shirt and walk him back into the room before anyone caught sight of it, telling Boba and Fennec, who had also emerged from her bed, prepared for drama, that all was fine. There was just a misunderstanding.

His bare torso was covered in scars. Boba found himself somehow surprised and impressed as the jedi unsuccessfully wrangled his furious husband back in the direction of bed.

He and Fennec peeked over the banister to see what had become of Bojzka. He was fine.

Fennec informed Boba that she was claiming part of his bed ‘in case anything else good happened’ since he was closer.

 -----

In the morning, Din was in marginally better spirits. Skywalker was to be found at his side, walking backwards and tripping over his cloak every four paces. He truly knew how to hit all Din’s ‘endeared’ buttons. If not to the earnestness and the near-miss of a disaster on the stairs, it would have looked like manipulation.

Bojzka attempted to rectify the peace by breaking into the court through one of the windows high up on the wall outside the second floor’s conference room.  This time, to ensure that he had Din’s full attention, he removed the jedi from the equation. Or he tried to anyways.

The jedi, in a split second, decided that, all joking aside, today, he would not be moved. His green saber managed to glow even in the sunlight pouring in to the hall.

“Do not touch,” he ordered, with both feet planted and Din and Grogu securely at his back.

Bojzka cocked his head at the saber pointed right at his nose.

“That’s a fun trick,” he said.

“Do not touch,” Skywalker repeated. “Me, him, or the child.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bojzka said. “Stand down before you regret it.”

“Luke,” Din said testily. “He’s not worth it.”

“Make me regret it,” Skywalker said to Bojzka.

Bojzka’s eyes widened slightly in interest. He used the back of his wrist to try to nudge the saber’s tip away and snapped his hand away from the burn.

“Do you expect me to be afraid of you, jedi?” he asked, trying to play it off.

Skywalker’s eyes reflected the light of his saber.

“Ask him what the glove’s for,” Fennec called from the far hall. Bojzka scoffed. Skywalker didn’t move.

“What happened to your hand?” Bojzka asked.

“My father cut it off,” Skywalker said. “But not to worry, I got a new one. Now step back. Sir.”

Bojzka didn’t move for a long time.

“Does it feel good to walk in the presence of these people?” he asked. “Is it a kink for you the way it was for your master?”

Boba had officially lost the plot. These were old politics now. Kryze would know what Bojzka was talking about, if only she deigned to come out from wherever she was hiding, which she wouldn’t. Of course.

“Does it offend you? My presence here?” Skywalker asked back without emotion.

“It doesn’t,” Bojzka said.

“I’m glad. That’s very convenient for me. I’d feel terrible if you bled out on these tiles,” Skywalker said. “So move.”

And goddamn. The mountain finally yielded to the sky.

 -------

Skywalker spent the rest of the day on high alert, with one hand on the hilt of his saber and his full concentration tied up with making fierce eyes into the palace’s corners to keep Bojzka at bay. It was really something to see. Din looked about ready to lay his fingers on his heart and swoon, and that was more than fair. If Boba’s spouse threatened to kill a man for looking at him wrong, he’d be touched too.

Fennec told Boba that she’d protect him from a man the size of a bantha but no larger, and it just didn’t have the same kind of ring.

She apologized and he told her it was fine. It was just in the delivery--and also, he’d murder anyone so blinked at her wrong, too.

She was pleased. Boba was glad they were on the same page.

“Let’s go find Kryze to negotiate,” Fennec said, “I need to know why Old Faithful’s back.”

 --------

Kryze’s commanding voice wrang out of Bojzka the real reason for his presence. The truth of the matter was that, War Hero aside, he was having a hell of a time getting the covert elder to grant him a second look.

Din told him that that was the point. Elder Fayrz was like that all day, every day and he’d change for no body, spiritual or physical. He bothered people when he wanted to bother them, and the rest of the time, he liked to pretend he was senile. He only really ever showed up if someone was buying a round or their life was in the balance.

Skywalker said that he sounded a lot like his late master.

Din agreed and said that Elder Fayrz had dedicated his life to two things: the covert children and fungi. Somehow, he made those two interests overlap. Din recalled being twelve and being taken out on a ‘mission’ by the old man who had informed him that he required his nose.

Elder Fayrz had no sense of smell. For a man with a fungi interest, he called this ‘very dangerous business indeed.’

Kryze demanded to know if all the weirdest Mandalorian elders still living had congregated at Din’s cohort which he quickly confirmed. Bojzka, however, demanded to know what would make this elder look him in the eye.

Din told him to go find a deathbed and lay on it.

He remembered belatedly to add ‘nearby Elder Fayrz’ to that statement.

 ----------

After about a month of this kind of back and forth, the Armorer decided that she’d had enough. She did not come to the Dune Sea. She sent a missive to Din informing him that he was coming home.

‘To talk,’ she said.

Boba vaguely remembered Karren saying something along the lines of ‘Din doesn’t get into trouble anymore,’ and was pleased to find that that was not the case. Din already knew what awaited him at his home covert and anyone with slightly more than a rock for a brain could see that it wasn’t going to be hugs and kisses.

Bojzka volunteered to accompany Din as a guard when the jedi made himself conveniently unavailable. Kryze and Boba flipped a coin while Din resisted stabbing him, and of course Boba won. Kryze flipped it again to be sure, and Boba told her sweetly that he’d send her a postcard.

“Have fun with the schmucks lounging around this place,” he gloated at Bo-Katan’s rolling shoulders.

She gave him two naughty fingers.

Whatever, girl. Sucks to suck. Bye, bye, now. Come on, Fennec. There’s adventure to be had.

 ---------

It was a ways to the new covert on Zeffo. Several hours, in fact, many of which were spent playing ‘I spy’ with Fennec while Bojzka gritted his teeth and asked them if they were always like this.

Fennec got Din to join in at that comment.

Eventually they ran out of white dwarfs and capes to identify and settled down into silence until the ship declared landing to be imminent.

Karren remembered Boba and the second he set foot inside the curiously constructed covert entrance. The kid came hurtling up to tackle him and wrap arms around his middle. It was endearing. Boba checked the doors to see if a guard would notice a kidnapping.

Fennec reminded him of child-based expenses. Her wisdom was invaluable as usual.

Karren scrambled away from Boba and, for a moment, made like he was going to attach himself to Din’s armor, but instead wriggled past Din to go tearing down the hallway. He skidded, crashed, and then clambered into a different room at the dead end of what appeared to be a row of barracks. Seconds later, Eegang exploded from one of the rooms adjacent wearing no armor but his helmet. He flung himself through the same doorway Karren had vanished through.

Din tilted his head.

“It’s fine,” a voice said behind them.

Their small party turned to see a woman wearing a cool purple helmet with only her flakvest on. Eegang’s pale baby was sat on her hip, pawing at her chest, trying to find purchase in the vest.

“Sotra,” Din greeted.

“Welcome back, brat-child,” Sotra said. “We missed you.”

This had to be Eegang’s secret-wife; unless she’d stolen that gurgling foundling in the night or something.

“Electrical?” Din asked, pointing at the far room.

“Loft,” Sotra said. “There’s hay, so of course all the kids have to be in it.”

“Just hay?” Din asked.

“And goats,” Sotra said.

Ah.

“We raise goats now?” Din asked.

“Oh, no, no,” Sotra said, sashaying past him towards the room her husband had abandoned, “It’s either coexistence or war, I’m afraid. The forge is past the hangar, keep going through the kitchens. Voxie knows you’re here—he’s awake, by the way. Welcome home, Din.”

“Thanks,” Din said. “This is my advisor, Boba Fett and our friend Fennec.”

Sotra splayed her whole, tall body into the doorway of her and Eegang’s barracks just as a fearsome battle cry sounded out on the other side.

“Hi,” she said.

“RELEASE ME,” a child in front of her about hip-height with serious bedhead shrieked in Mando’a.

Fennec’s eyebrows launched up to her forehead. Boba felt like he needed to record this so that Kryze understood what she was missing.

“Vod Din is home,” Sotra told the child.

“DIN.”

“Shhhh.”

“RELEASE M—mmf.”

“Shhhhh. It’s quiet time,” Sotra said with her free hand over the child’s mouth. “We’re being quiet.”

Din chuckled.

“Hey, Samo,” he said.

Samo let loose an ear-piercing scream behind her buir’s hand and ducked under Sotra’s legs. She ran at Din like there was a bomb behind her. Din caught her and swung her up to perch on his arm and she kicked relentless at his tassets in excitement.

“Shhh,” Din said. “People are sleeping—”

“YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE—”

Doors started opening all down the line of barracks. A few curious, hazy, and lopsided helmets poked out from some of them, and from others, calls of ‘EYYYYYYY’ and chats ‘ALL HAIL THE MAND’ALOR’ started up, to Din’s immediate mortification.

This, Boba was delighted to realize, was not a cry of honor.

These half-asleep fuckers had been waiting months to embarrass Din. And he’d known that this would happen.

“Be quiet,” Din snapped all around him. “The elders are sleeping, you’re going to—”

“Well, well, well, look who’s finally home,” a taunting voice rang out on top of the rush. “If it isn’t the Mand’alor himself.”

“Paz,” Din sighed. “Not now.”

“When could there possibly be a better time, your liege?” a huge Mandalorian wearing full blue armor despite the early hour drawled from the doorway he’d attempted to casually lean in. Samo’s braids flew as her round cheeks snapped his way.

“Paz, don’t be mean,” she told him from atop Din’s arm. “Or it’ll be to the goats with ya.”

“Fuck me, the goats, what ever will I do?” Paz scoffed.

“BUIR, PAZ SAID A BAD WORD.”

“I heard him,” Sotra said scathingly, right at Paz’s visor.

“To the goats,” Paz’s neighbor hissed at him.

The hissing was taken up just as quickly as the earlier ‘all hails’ had been. Paz told everyone to shut up and mind their own asses. He was publicly booed until Eegang emerged from the loft room with Karren stuffed under an arm and demanded to know why people were congregating in the halls. He reminded everyone that that shit was a fire hazard, and in doing so, his tone changed completely from easy-going to Commanding Officer and the effect was immediate.

People scurried back into their rooms like frightened mice until there wasn’t a single open door left in the whole line.

Eegang huffed and traded Karren to Din for his daughter. Samo happily climbed onto his shoulders and held onto his chin. Karren grinned mischievously up at her, winked, and then thumbed back to the goat loft.

“Not the welcome you deserved, but the one you got. I’m afraid nothing has changed here,” Eegang told Din compassionately, wrapping his fingers around Samo’s ankles. “I see you brought friends.”

“And foe,” Din said, gesturing at Bojzka who beamed.

Eegang’s visor contained a grimace that would otherwise have wracked his whole body.

“You got in,” he deadpanned.

“Sure did,” Bojzka said. “Lovely place you have here.”

And honestly? Yeah. It sort of was. Maybe a little ramshackle, what with all the scaffolding and haphazard support beams thrown into the walls to keep the wet earth above ground from crushing everyone below it, but for all the unsteadiness, it was oozing with comradery. Family.

Behind each of those doors was a little unit like Eegang and Sotra’s or perhaps a tired body, barely extracted from its boots, taking comfort in this honeycomb of tunnels and rooms.

Boba couldn’t help but wonder how he and Dad would have done in a place like this.

“We try,” Eegang said flatly. “I’ll let the Armorer deal with you herself—if she’s awake, I mean. Otherwise, you’re condemned to Shimmol. I’m going back to sleep. Vok is waiting for you, keep going straight through the kitchens, Din.”

“Thank you,” Din said. “Sleep well, Vod.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, Monster. No goats for now.”

Samo waved at Boba and Fennec with a smile as bright as the sun. She ducked expertly as Eegang passed through the doorway to their quarters. He closed the door behind them.

 ------

“You don’t see families like that much anymore,” Bojzka hummed as Din led their troop down the hallways, through a series of ladders into a kitchen and then from there into a surprisingly neat, up-to-date hangar with concrete floorings. Six crafts were parked inside, tucked into the tight space like fish in a barrel.

“We have a few,” Din said. “I don’t know how many people are living here now, though.”

Given the size of the place? Maybe fifty or so, if Boba had to take a guess. There had been several sets of boots lining the wall outside the barrack doors.

Din picked his way through the crafts to two tarps covered in piles of spare, rusting, and grease-covered parts. At the end of the aisle between the tarps was a rectangle bordered by wooden benches and to the left of that was a little box that a mechanic presumably operated from. The box, however, had no windows. Its door was slightly ajar.

Din knocked and a snort and a slurp answered him.

“Jus’ a mo,” a thick voice said inside.

Fennec looked at Boba with intrigue.

“Tool gnome,” she said.

No, friend. Just a grease-monkey.

“Tool gnome,” Fennec insisted.

The door opened and a man at least six feet, two inches peered out of it.

“Tool giant,” Fennec amended in a whisper.

“Is that you, Din?” the mechanic asked. His helmet was rusty red and gray. Its visor had a yellow tint to it.

“It is,” Din said. “It’s been a while, Vok. These are my—”

“Forget them. Goran told me what you did to Razor.”

Din cringed.

“I—”

“AH. No. I don’t wanna hear it,” Vok said. “I just—I’m glad you’re safe, but you ain’t touching any more of my children, you hear me, boy?”

Din sunk into his shoulders in shame.

“I hear you,” he said.

“You’re damn right you do,” Vok said. “Man, I had a whole speech written out and shit, and here you are, early as the fuckin’ dawn. Did you miss Paz?”

“We did not,” Din said.

“I tried to have him do an inventory, I did,” Vok said sympathetically. “But he wasn’t havin’ it. Took an IOU and everything.”

Din sighed.

“Thanks for trying,” he said. “Is the forge...?”

“That way,” Vok said, gesturing to the far end of the hangar, where a series of scaffolding led up to a dark hole in the wall. “Mind your step. Stairs are next on my list. Who’re your friends?”

Din introduced them. Vok considered Fennec and after a moment of thought, saluted her. She tipped her jaw to the side and gave him a once-over.

“Din’s got my number if you’re not busy,” Vok said.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Fennec said.

“I hope you do, my darlin’. You? Boj-whatever? I heard about you. You can go fuck yourself.”

“Thanks, Vok, we’re going now,” Din intervened.

 ----------

Fennec said nothing on the way up the scaffolding. She didn’t need to. Boba applauded her.

 ---------

The forge was the least finished part of the covert, and Boba could respect the Armorer’s dedication to looking after the flock before her own needs. Not that the forge wasn’t a comfortable place. Upon entry, Bojzka whistled at all the equipment inside. There were steel beams crossing in hatches along the ceiling. It appeared as though someone was working on a ventilation mechanism up there. Ropes and pipes hung down from the beams as though a pulley system had been recently removed.

The forge itself was a huge circular structure with a high wall around its exterior. It was built of a slick-looking black material. There were three water troughs set up in a line behind it and two rudimentary wood blocks with anvils set on them. Benches littered with iron tools sat next to the anvils.

Din appeared very at home in this place, despite not having even been in it. He wove around the accoutrements of the room towards a wooden door that had been placed on hinges on the far side like an afterthought.

He knocked.

“We don’ want any,” a sleepy woman’s voice drawled.

Boba jumped as a something brushed his elbow and discovered that Karren had followed them all the way down to the forge. His soft boots had hidden his footsteps, but, like Din, he was now in a place that he knew like the back of his hand. Din grabbed the scruff of his neck as he went for the door with both hands.

“You’re supposed to be in the nursery,” Din told him. “Shoo.”

“Shimmol, Din’s home,” Karren said through the door. “Goran, Din’s home.”

Very cute. Karren wanted to be the one to shared the news. Din pulled him back as shuffling started up on the other side of the wooden door.

It opened to reveal a fluorescent pink helmet with floral patterns painted down the edges in white.

“Din?” the young woman, who could only be Shimmol, asked.

Din’s brain stuttered.

“Uh?” he said.

Shimmol’s flightsuit was once white, but it was burned and smudged to gray all over. Her heavy gloves were half-burnt on both hands, too. She surged forward into Din’s chestplate. Din hugged her back awkwardly.

“Hello, sister,” he said. “This is, uh.”

“Do you like it?” Shimmol asked, pulling away from him to touch the edges of her helmet. “I thought it was cute. Wait til you see the pauldrons. They match.”

“They’re hideous,” Karren said.

“Did anyone ask you?” Shimmol flung at him. “No, I didn’t think so. Get gone, womp-rat.”

Wow. No wonder Karren was desperate for Din’s attention.

“I’m not a womp-rat,” Karren said. “I’m a Tooka. Goran said so.”

“You know, what you actually are is a ‘nuisance,’ so it doesn’t matter what—”

“Children.”

And lo and behold. The lady herself. Gold helmet and everything.

“Din,” the Armorer said, placing a hand on Shimmol’s side to move her. “Welcome home.”

Din accepted the helmet touch with grace.

“Bojzka,” the Armorer said next. “I didn’t expect to see you in my home so soon, or at all.”

Bojzka beamed.

“You’ve grown a beard,” the Armorer noted. “It does not become you.”

Boba coughed into his elbow to hide the bark of laughter screaming to escape his throat. Fennec thumped at his back.

“Let’s move somewhere with more light,” the Armorer said. “Karren, Shimmol. You’re dismissed for the next hour. Go eat breakfast.”

“But—” Shimmol started.

“Up, up, up,” Karren chanted, getting behind her and shoving hands into the small of her back. “It’s people-time.”

“Leave it. I hate people-time,” Shimmol said. “I thrive on darkness. It sustains me better than food.”

Din looked desperately into the Armorer’s helmet. The Armorer ignored him and told Shimmol that she knew this to false and to stop whining. Upstairs, now.  

The kids relented and left the forge. Din pointed after them.

“I know,” the Armorer said. “Let her work through it.”

Din pointed even more insistently.

“No, no. It’s true,” Bojzka said. “Mine went through the same thing.”

 --------

The Armorer sat them all down at a ‘u’ shape of benches on the far side of the forge. She turned on some overhead lights. They lit up the forge and threw its equipment’s shadows harshly against the floor.

“Thank you for coming,” she said lightly. “It takes a long time to get to Zeffo, even in the Outer Rim.”

“It suits you,” Bojzka flirted.

“It does not,” the Armorer countered unrepentantly. “And your flattery remains aggravating.”

Bojzka didn’t seem to process the meaning behind those words, too busy he was with basking in the Armorer’s presence. She ignored him to turn to Din.

“Eegang tells me that you have been aggressive towards Bojzka, ad’ika, is this true?”

Din hunkered down into his shoulders. He didn’t want to answer. The Armorer didn’t make him.

“This is unnecessary,” she said. “Bojzka does not bother me.”

Bojzka rounded a gloating grin at Din.

“He is delusional, but I’m afraid that head trauma does this over time,” the Armorer said lightly. “There is no need to defend my honor—I’ve already had this conversation with Eegang, so know that it is not only you who I’ve spoken to about this. And Bojzka.”

“Yes, dear?” Bojzka hummed.

“I would appreciate it if you ceased in antagonizing my foundling and second.”

“I’m not trying to, Nomri.”

“I know,” the Armorer said. “And that is where I believe this tension arises from. Din, you and your advisor may leave. I’ll handle this. In future, know that it is not your place to speak on these matters in my stead, yes?”

“Yes, Goran,” Din mumbled.

The Armorer waited.

“Buir,” Din corrected.

“Thank you. The last thing I need is the Mand’alor becoming invested in old-standing relationships. You may go.”

Din stood and Boba and Fennec stood with him.

“He is not Naseem,” Din said right at the doorway.

The Armorer’s helmet turned slowly his way.

“No one will ever be Naseem,” she said. “It’s okay. Go.”

 -----------

Boba need the full story on this Naseem guy approximately yesterday, but all he had at his disposal in the kitchens where he, Din, and Fennec had been banished was a collection of foundlings all staring up at their party looking guilty as hell.

In the midst of their group was a ten-year-old holding a glass jug absolutely brimming with frogs.

Boba had never seen this many foundlings together at once before, and he had to say: these traditionalists knew exactly what they were doing. There was nothing quite like a whole mass of youths to shift the mood.

The kids made a break for it.

  Fennec was the fastest of all of them, but even she was not as fast as the bodies that popped their heads out of the rattling back room and launched themselves without warning over the few rows of tables set out in the main space.

Din’s covert collectively looked after the little ones, he explained when one of these bodies returned with the wrist of a shrieking Twi’lek child in their grip. The shrieking cut off when the nurse dropped down into a crouch and flattened both of the child’s hands against their helmet so that they left splotchy prints behind.

Two of the folks who filed back into the room covered in mud did not wear helmets. Din didn’t recognize them until they spoke and said their names. They’d removed their helmets back on Nevarro, apparently, and they had not to put them back on. Now, they wore veils and headscarves—neither of them comfortable with their whole heads and faces on display.

One of these was a woman named Madda. She saw Din’s helmet and froze by one of the long tables.

“Din, I’m so glad you returned,” she said with hitching breath. And then she took her newly-acquired jug of frogs and went tearing back down the hallway towards the covert’s main entrance. Din watched after her, confused.

“Is the transition difficult?” he asked one of the other Mandalorians next to him.

Their helmet showed zero emotion, and yet Boba gleaned from it everything he needed to know. He put a palm on his forehead.

“Djarin, come here,” he said.

 -------------

Din chased after Madda to apologize for fucking up what was probably a years-long infatuation at this point. Fennec watched after him with a sly grin. But the Mandalorian with the flat helmet turned to Boba with far more open shoulders.

“You got through to him like that,” she said, snapping her fingers.

“It’s his secret talent,” Fennec told her.

“What was your name?” the Mandalorian asked.

“Boba Fett,” Boba said. “And yours?”

“Jhuvac.”

“Nice to meet you,” Boba said politely.

“Aren’t you the clone-guy?”

Welp.

“I prefer ‘Fett,’” Boba said.

“Nah, I feel that,” Jhuvac said, tossing her scarf over her shoulder. “Paz calls you the ‘clone-guy’ is all. That shit’s wild, by the way. But you can’t help your dad’s decision now can you?”

What was this? Understanding? From a traditionalist? Kryze would lose her shit.

“I can’t, although everything after that was totally me,” Boba said.

Jhuvac glanced back at him.

“Including the Solo stuff?” she asked.

Boba lifted a brow.

“Is there something you would like to know?” he asked.

“No,” Jhuvac said. “I know everything I need to. But you know what’ll make Vok’s life miserable?”

 ---------

The mechanic was a huge fan of Han Solo, and he had a list of reasons why Boba should cease hunting  the man about as long as one of his lanky arms. He listed them out one by one in his hangar full of metal scrap. Jhuvac was very correct when she said that the mere mention of Solo meeting his maker would cause Vok immense misery. Boba could see how it could be entertaining.

Fennec made it even more entertaining by poking holes in each of Vok’s carefully laid out arguments.

He kept asking her why she was hurting him like this. Was this a domination kink?

Fennec asked him if he wanted it to be.

Vok walked it all back and told her to do her worst.

Jhuvac decided that she suddenly had other things to do and invited Boba to accompany her on these things. Boba assented and left Fennec to her business.

 ----------

In the end, Boba found himself outside in a group huddle with a handful of covert people, two with no helmets, watching the feud between the foundlings and the local wildlife. The covert, he learned, broadly did not like Zeffo. They hated how wet it was. They hated how cold it was. 90% of them had grown up in desert climates, the remaining 10% in ice climates.

Zeffo, as far as they were concerned, was a backwater hellhole that they’d had little choice in selecting.

“It was this or breaking up and forming two coverts,” Sotra explained, removing Mesa’s captured snail from his face area for the third time. She gave the snail to the guy next to her who got up and took it down to the edge of the nearby river. He stooped to set it in the grass, then froze in shock when a fish’s wide mouth erupted from the water and encapsulated his whole glove.

It left the glove wet and empty.

“But you didn’t want to do that?” Boba asked.

“No, if we separated, it would be Eegang at the head of the new covert,” Sotra said. “And that’s just not in the cards for us right now.”

Gotcha.

“The children didn’t want to be separated either,” one of the Mandalorians with no helmet said. “Goran gave them the option, but things were frantic, you know. They cling to each other when they’re young like this.”

More than understandably, in Boba’s humble and correct opinion.

“What do you all think of Bojzka?” Boba asked them.

“Who?”

“The bull with no helmet? Beard?” someone said.

“The one trying to court the Armorer?” Sotra asked.

Everyone clambered back onto the same page in the face of this descriptor.

“He’s supposed to be some kind of hero,” Jhuvac said. “But I dunno, man. He seems a little, uh.”

“Goran’s too good for him,” Sotra interjected simply. “Imagine stooping so low after a life of respect and service.”

“He’s not ugly,” the Mandalorian who’d lost the snail pointed out. “I’d bang him.”

“You’re not a good bar, Ban.”

“I could be.”

“You’re the lowest bar, Ban.”

“Can’t be disappointed if your expectations on the floor.”

“Go bang him for Goran then,” Jhuvac said. “I can’t tell if she thinks he’s kinda cute or if she wants to stab him in the heart.”

“For the good of the covert, I will endure this hardship,” Ban said.

He was unceremoniously yanked back down when he started to stand.

“Din mentioned some guy named ‘Naseem?’” Boba asked.

The name alone sent the group into titters.

“Naseem was so nice.”

“Naseem was great, you have no idea. So respectful.”

“He wanted to take Din on so bad, it was almost heartbreaking. He and Goran were perfect for each other. He was so happy around her; I don’t think he ever talked in front of anyone else.”

“God, when he died, I cried so hard. I cried for days.”

“Same.”

“Same.”

“Same.”

“Kind of a tough reputation to beat, then?” Boba asked.

“Oh definitely,” Jhuvac said. “I mean, there was Hajka after him, but she was just so explosive. Like, she made Goran laugh a lot, I remember that, but she was kinda awkward, too. There was a battle on her home planet and she left everyone here to defend what was left of her people.”

“Goran collects the awkward ones, they’re her favorite,” Sotra said.

“You can’t judge her, you collect Eegangs,” Ban pointed out.

“There is only one Eegang.”

“Girl, we know.”

There was a pause while Sotra handed off her child so that she could beat the shit out of Ban on the lumpy grass. Jhuvac handed Mesa over Boba’s lap to the quiet person at his right. They took the baby without question and laid him on their chest.

“Where did you grow up, Boba?” Jhuvac asked. “Sorry, Fett. Do you like Fett?”

Boba was taken aback. It had been ages since someone had called him by his first name—and a Mandalorian no less.

“Boba is fine. I grew up on Kamino,” he said.

“With a covert?”

No, no covert. No anyone, really. Boba was what people in white coats tended to call ‘under-socialized.’

“That’s sad,” Jhuvac said. “It must have been lonely.”

It was, actually. Especially after Dad had died.

“That’s so sad, I’m gonna cry,” Ban said. “Join our covert.”

All helmets and eyes rounded on Boba and he felt like his collar was suddenly digging into his neck. He shook his head.

“I’m not really a Mandalorian,” he said. “It’s not right—”

“Bullshit.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Jhuvac, let ‘im talk.”

“No, that’s bullshit. Listen, Din has ‘don’t trust people’ syndrome. If he trusts you enough to bring you with him here, then you’re Mandalorian enough for us,” Jhuvac said. “And anyways, being a Mandalorian is about what you do, not who you are. It doesn’t matter if you’re clone-guy so long as you follow the Creed in a more or less northernly direction.”

Boba stared at her and realized that everyone was staring at him again. He cleared his throat but found that he didn’t have any words trapped back there like he’d thought.

“Or easternly,” Ban offered to break the awkwardness.

There were still no words on Boba’s tongue. He struggled to say at least something.

“I—th—that’s kind of you,” he eventually managed. “I don’t think I could cut it here, but that’s really kind of you.”

The Mandalorians exchanged looks and shrugs.

“Know that the offer stands if you feel any pull towards it later,” Sotra said. “We have a number of reformed who converted and who move in and out of our covert. Not recently, but when we were children, there were more. Goran, too, was once a reformed Mandalorian.”

“My buir, too,” Jhuvac added.

“My ba-buir was reformed,” Ban said. “But she might have caused a public riot. Or two. Or three.”

“Speaking of which,” Sotra said. “Elder Fayrz has emerged from his cave.”

“I’ll get him,” Jhuvac sighed.

Boba frowned and looked from them out to the hill the foundlings had selected to gossip on. A Mandalorian in black and white with a green cape was, indeed, now kneeling among them. Every face was turned towards him in wonder.

“I’ve heard of this guy. He looks fun,” he noted.

At least one hand from every body came up to clutch at their face.

“That’s exactly the problem,” Ban said.

 ------

Din rejoined Boba in the midst of Elder Fayrz’s attempt to recruit him into the covert. He somehow knew Dad. That in itself was a little disarming. At first, Boba hadn’t believe that the elder was speaking the truth, but then he started up with alarmingly specific training corp numbers and mentioned off-handedly that he used to work in the corps, training kids from six to fourteen.

It made sense now why, in old age, he was considered the most dangerous person in the covert to have around the foundlings.

Grandpa was a serial spoil-er and mischief-instigator. The children saw in him everything they wanted out of life and were loathe to be separated from their most favorite old man.

Din got between him and Boba and informed the Elder that he’d just gotten married.

The Elder’s attentions went rocketing in the opposite direction. He wanted pictures, he wanted to know all about the reception, he wanted to know why Din hadn’t brought his partner home with him, what color their armor was, where they were presently based—the whole barrel of spotchka.

Boba appreciated the save.

He also appreciated the moment when the Elder fully realized that Din had, in fact, married a real jedi.

“YOU STUPID BOY.”

There it was.

The children bustled and whispered.

“This is what happens when we do not teach them to read—where is your buir? I told her, I told her that you needed more lessons. Always with the dogs, I knew it would have some effect—”

Din couldn’t even argue. He and Kryze had been over the very same deficit about sixty times. If they were lucky, Bo-Katan gave him a day or two off in between scoldings.

While the old man was outraged, Din signaled to Boba that they would be leaving soon.

 --------

Bojzka joined Boba, Din, and Fennec at the ramp of their ship about ten minutes late. The Armorer personally showed him out of the covert and told him to return only if the galaxy began to collapse in on itself. She was at least cordial about it, which, in hindsight, was probably why Bojzka was having a hard time reading the glaring ‘please desist’ sign flickering over her head.

“Be safe,” she told Din while Karren made sad sounds behind her.

“Will do,” Din said. “Next time, I’ll see if Luke will come.”

“We would like to have him,” the Armorer said.

She dipped her helmet to Boba and Fennec and they returned the gesture.

“I hope you were well-received by the others,” she said. “Bojzka, good bye.”

“Talk to you later,” Bojzka hummed.

“We shall not,” the Armorer said.

 ---------

Back in the Dune Sea, Kryze was waiting in one of the conference rooms. Din avoided her and all her probing questions. Boba did not. He was in a sharing sort of mood and Fennec had a ‘thanks for the lay’ message to compose to Mr. Vok.

Kryze crossed her legs and gestured for him to join her at the table.

He did and crossed his legs right back.

“So?” she asked.

“Shocking peaceful,” Boba said. “Violent mostly towards their own members. Tried to recruit me at least three times.”

Kryze’s eyebrows did a little dance.

“Surprising,” she said.

“Not very,” Boba corrected. “Din is one of the more reserved members. He resembles his buir more than I expected.”

“And Bojzka?” Kryze asked.

“Soundly rejected, but somehow optimistic about it,” Boba said. “The good news is that Din’s been forbidden from trying to kill him.”

“That is good news,” Kryze agreed.

There was a long pause.

“Are you thinking about it? Joining, I mean?” Kryze asked.

“No,” Boba said, “But it is nice to occasionally be around Mandalorians who don’t have sticks up their asses.”

“Unicorns,” Kryze said.

“A whole covert of them,” Boba told her with a smirk. “Maybe it’s not them. Maybe it’s you all.”

“I beg to differ,” Kryze said. “If the issue is resolved, then I suppose we’ll have to move back on to official business.”

That was no fun.

“Why is Fennec so smug?”

Oh, that was more fun. Sit back down, Lady. This is going to be a bawdy one.

[lsvdw-blog]

Mistakes

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings; Rating: Angst, Some curse words; Teen (to be safe)

Premise: MC confronts Ethan about standing her up.

Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone for the lovely feedback on Already Here - this is Part II! This is very angsty and I'm so sorry 😭 I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading 😊

As soon as the name hits his ears, the maître d' subtly tenses. Lifting his eyes away from the notebook in front of him, he plasters on a fake smile, and levels at the man.

"I'm sorry Mr. Ramsey, but your table has been given to another party."

Ethan's brows furrow slightly. "Dr. Ramsey and I don't understand."

The maître d' inwardly rolls his eyes. "My apologies, Dr. Ramsey. However, your date has left and instructed us to put your table to good use."

Ethan runs a hand down his face.

"That's preposterous, Joshua. She couldn't possibly have left. Are you certain she didn't just excuse herself to freshen up?"

Joshua emphatically shuts the notebook in front of him, causing Dr. Ramsey to jump slightly.

"Yes, I'm certain, as is the rest of our staff here tonight. In fact, any one of us would have been honored to spend our evening with someone as charming as her, but instead, she was waiting for you. And, in spite of her lousy evening, she made ours, by leaving a very generous tip."

Halfway through Joshua's speech, a hush fell over the nearby clientele, who were now all watching the scene unfold.

"Do you think that guy is gonna punch Joshua?" Someone whispers and is immediately shushed.

Ethan's heart rate picks up as it dawns on him that the entire restaurant, personnel included, is gossiping about him.

"I—"

"You may be a medical professional, Dr. Ramsey, but that doesn't make you any less of an asshole for standing up such a lovely young woman. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more pressing matters to attend to."

Ethan is left standing there, dumbfounded. After a few seconds, he clears his throat and straightens the front of his suit jacket. As he turns to leave, the other patrons quickly avert their eyes and begin to whisper.

~~~~~~

She pounds on his door with her closed fist.

BANG BANG BANG!

"Ramsey, if you're in there, open the door right now!"

She probably should have just gone home, but she couldn't help herself; she needed some answers.

She hears Jenner barking on the other side of the door, but no one comes. For the second time that night, she's left waiting. The anger she conjured up on the ride over quickly dissipates.

She leans backwards against the wall by his door, inhales and exhales deeply, and slowly slides to the ground.

Am I pathetic? She thinks, as she rests her head on her knees by her chest and tightly shuts her eyes.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting there when her eyes snap open at the sound of footsteps approaching.

"What are you doing here?" His baritone voice asks.

She gives a disbelieving laugh. "Really? That's what you're going to open with?"

Ethan coughs awkwardly and goes to unlock the door. He looks down at her and asks softly, "Would you like to come in?"

She's still sitting on the floor, head turned away from him. As he swings the door ajar, she slowly rises and enters.

Jenner immediately trots towards her. "Hey boy," she whispers as she stoops down to pet him.

Ethan drops his keys in a bowl and makes his way to his bar cart. "Would you like something to drink?"

"The strongest thing you have."

His large hand nearly spans the bottle as he pours them both a glass of scotch and walks back over. She glances at him, taking in his loosened tie and unbuttoned collar, hair in disarray, and how his cologne mingled with the faint smell of alcohol. His tousled state is almost enough to diffuse her completely. Almost.

She snatches the drink from him, downs it, and finally makes eye contact. To any other person, her eyes are ablaze with anger, but to him, he can see it for what it really is: a mask to hide the pain she's in.

"What the actual hell, Ethan?"

He looks away guiltily and takes a sip of the amber liquid.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Okay, then I’ll talk. You could have called, or texted, or freaking emailed for all I care. You cancelling would not have been ideal either, but it would have been better than me sitting there, by myself, for almost an hour! 45 minutes, Ethan! If you weren’t going to show, why couldn’t you have picked a place friendlier to my resident salary? I could’ve saved myself a couple hundred bucks! I know this is new for you, but I asked for a date night, not to ride off into the sunset with you!”

Chest heaving and staring daggers at him, she was yelling, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. He stays quiet for longer than she would have liked, which only frustrates her more.

“Oh, for the love of—”

“I don't want to make the same mistakes.” He interrupts her.

She freezes. “Mistakes? What exactly is a mistake here, Ethan?”

It may be the bright lights of his apartment, or her shouts of desperation piercing his heart, or the liquor he had before he left finally catching up to him,* but he snaps.

“This! All of this! This conversation, this date night, us!”

His eyes widen in horror at his malicious words and even Jenner barks at him to stop talking.

She mirrors his horrified expression and gasps. The crystal tumbler she forgot she was holding falls to the floor and shatters into a million pieces, reminiscent of her heart.

It feels like time has stopped and honed in on this specific moment. She sees everything in slow motion as Ethan opens and closes his mouth a few times, failing to make a sound. She lowers her eyes, blinks a few times, and begins to turn to collect her things.

As she grabs her purse, time resumes. She makes a beeline for the door, but Ethan is quicker. He steps in front of her and gently cups her face.

“Baby, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean that at all. It was said in the heat of the moment and it is the furthest thing from the truth. Please don’t go." He’s gazing at her earnestly, but she keeps her eyes glued to the hardwood floor beneath them.

She registers that he’s speaking, but doesn’t hear his pleading. Everything in her is screaming to get the hell out of there.

"Please look at me." His voice, barely above a whisper, quivers and she is brought back to her harsh reality.

She snaps her head upwards, coldly staring at him, tears welling in her eyes. His heart cracks when he realizes that he’s never seen her cry.

Until now.

“Ethan, if you make me stay here right now, the next time I walk out your door, I am not coming back.”

The resolve in her statement is nearly tangible and grips him with fear. He swallows thickly and gives a slow nod of his head. She breaks free from his grasp and the last things he hears are the loud thud of the door and Jenner’s whimpers.

~~~~~~

*Disclaimer: No pixels drove to or from the restaurant as our man had been drinking. He may be an asshole, but is responsible and called a cab.

[morgansmoreid]

Do You Still Love Me • Derek Morgan • Chapter Ten

Chapter Name: "Mine"

Fic Masterlist

Italic writing stands for flashbacks.

Content/Trigger Warnings: Cheating, Smut

Smut Warning: Angry Sex, Unprotected Penetrative Sex, Possessive Sex, Choking, Degradation, Restrained hands, Orgasm denial, Edging, Spanking, Aftercare

---

Y/n nods and sits on the end of the bed. She looks to her feet and hands, not having the courage to look up to Derek.

She should. She wants to. But she just can't. Her brain can't concentrate on his words. He's yelling and walking back and forth. He's hurt and his fist are balled up. Yet, everything he's saying is muffled.

The time is moving slowly. Y/n knows it's not possible thanks to the lecture she received from Spencer months ago, but it feels like it.

"So you did huh?" Derek's words click in her mind as his feet stop before hers.

Y/n gives Derek a quick look of confusion before she resumes looking at her feet.

"I'm not shocked, all you do is lie to me." He crouches down.

"I can explain-" Y/n speaks, but Derek doesn't want to hear it.

"You've cheated, lied to my face, and broken my trust, you can explain that?"

Y/n is taken aback by his words. Cheated? No. Y/n's done a lot of things, she knows that, but she never cheated on Derek or any of her partners. She could never bring herself to stoop the lowest level of low.

"Excuse me? I didn't cheat on you! Yes, I lied, I did, but I fucking reasons. And yes, I broke your trust, and I'm sorry, but you do not, I mean do not accuse me of cheating on you." Y/n speaks with truth, she makes strong eye contact with Derek, hoping that if he does, this is the one thing that he'll believe from her.

Y/n has made many promises in her life. Especially to herself, but she has stayed loyal to only one. And that was to never cheat. To never stoop as low Daniela and to never break someone like she was broken. Y/n doesn't want to show it, but she's hurt that Derek thought she was capable of something like this.

As Derek is the one taken aback by Y/n's words, the thought of James having his hands on her overpowers him once more.

"So when? When did you fuck James?" Derek brings the chair from the table and drags it until it's right in front of Y/n. He sits- no, plops in the seat, and crosses his arms, silently demanding for an answer.

Y/n takes less than 30 seconds. "Before we met, way before, I swear Derek."

Derek's conflicted. How can he believe Y/n? For all he knows, she could've killed Arianna- "stop," he thinks to himself, this is still Y/n, this is still the same woman he's loved for years, and he even though he can't see it right now, this is the woman that has him ring searching in his mind sometimes.

This is still Y/n.

The same woman who lied to him, the same woman who broke his trust, the same woman who can't even look him in eye for more than 30 seconds.

This is not his Y/n, even if she is in her body, wearing just a worn-out tank top that shows her nipples so clearly, his gaze lingers. Or that the figure in front of him has the same marks that peak out the short tennis shorts that he left just less than 24 hours ago. But his Y/n would have told him about the way James's hands went all her body and the way he heard her moans.

He hates the thoughts of sharing- regardless of when, it's never been his thing. This conversation is not over between them, but as Derek gets up and tells Y/n to, he pushes the chair back and goes to fully lock the door, chains, and all. He throws his jacket to the wall so hard, the buttons make sounds against the plaster. He walks over to Y/n, making her walk back into the wall behind her in fear almost before he's pressing his chest in hers.

"Mine." His hand grips her side and by surprise, a gasp leaves her mouth.

"I said mine." Goes his other hand and this time, it's a moan that leaves Y/n. The same moan that James heard, the same moan that Derek is determined to pry the fuck out of her.

His grip tightens, not to hurt Y/n, but to leave his trail as he repeats the same words.

"Mine."

"Mine."

"Mine."

His breath is hot as he hovers over the shown parts of Y/n's skin. He's not giving her the satisfaction of his lips, she's going to ask; beg if she has to. As Y/n falls victim to Derek's touch, she doesn't let the whorish moans stop her from claiming whatever dominance she thinks she has left. It's not in her favor as the moans get louder and louder, almost testing how thick the walls are.

Derek doesn't like sharing.

It's just not his thing.

Hands cup her ass, hard and fast as he throws Y/n back onto the bed. Not rough, only a little bounce in feedback, but enough to make the tank top on her body rub against her figure and bring out her hard nipples more.

Derek pulls Y/n, legs first before he flips her around. She doesn't see anything, knowing it's safer to not turn around, but she does hear the way Derek's shirt hits the floor and the way his belt slips off. She doesn't hear it hit the floor like the shirt, in fact, she doesn't hear it anymore. Just the zipper of his pants and what she thinks is him kicking them to the side once they are off.

Her hands are suddenly pulled behind her and she can hear the belt now. She hears it wrapped around her wrist and the last pull that really secures the restraint. Derek's weight is added to the bed and he is in her ear.

"All you have to say is red, red and I'll stop." He says, waiting for an answer. Y/n nods but that's not enough. The slap against her ass makes the word "ok," leave her mouth, and even though she's unsure of what to come, the safeword replays in her head, calming her down.

Y/n can only depend on her hearing. The sounds of her shorts being pulled off her body and the sounds of Derek's hands to her ass again come first. The feeling of her soaked underwear gone makes her feel exposed but Derek's touch on her clit makes her feel comfortable again, even with the slow circles he draws at first, his touch is there and that's all the matter then.

But as he adds his middle finger and lets his index follow, his pace is no longer tiring, but hard to keep up with. The sound of Y/n's moans and Derek's fingers pumping in and out of her is what fills the room. Y/n wants to grab on to something so bad, anything, but the fucking restraint on her wrists only makes her seem pathetic with the "grabby hands" she does, silently pleading.

Her walls plead with her, clenching around Derek as her orgasm becomes closer and closer, just for Derek to remove his hand.

"Say it," The words follow another slap to her ass. "You're mine. Say it." Two more slaps, harder each time.

"Yours!" The cry leaves Y/n. "Yours!" She says again, her stigma still high from the missing fingers.

"This is what you want?" The same fingers trace over dripping her clit. He doesn't push onto it, just letting it linger as Y/n tries to move her body to feel something, anything.

"Squirming like a little whore."

Y/n rolls her eyes and is thankful Derek can't see it. He knows what she did, he knows her enough to tell but doesn't comment on it.

"Is this what you want?"

4 slaps across Y/n's ass go into the unanswered question. The first three bring pain, like the others, before the pleasure creeps up on Y/n.

The simple headshakes aren't enough and Y/n knows she's playing with fire.

Derek steps away from her, all of his warmth gone. The word red replays again until Derek's hands are on Y/n again. They are on her side, dragging her body down one last time. Y/n knows what's about to happen, but that doesn't stop the loud moan that leaves her as Derek inserts himself.

And he doesn't waste time fastening his pace. Derek's size stretches Y/n out faster than what she's used to and the way he holds her legs open from behind is no help to her. The only thing that's in his way is the fucking tank top. He didn't think that all the way through- but when his hand slips under it and grabs Y/n's breast, he feels her hands on his stomach.

The same pathetic hands that were grabbing for something moments ago.

The same pathetic hands that James probably ran his own through.

Derek leans in as close as he possibly could, slamming into Y/n as he wraps his hand around her throat. He squeezes, gently, the action not matching his pace at all, but he still manages to get his complete grip on the women below him.

Y/n is going to cum. She can tell and so can Derek. But as she cries out his name, he mumbles no and presses his fingers to her clit, rubbing fast. It makes Y/n jerk her body but her orgasm doesn't take over her yet.

Derek doesn't like sharing.

It's just not his thing.

Y/n is his, and his only.

"Mine." The word leaves Derek.

"Yours." Comes out almost immediately. "Just yours."

Not that Y/n could take it any longer, but as Derek tells her cum and fucks her through her orgasm, her body is already drained as Derek comes insides, one last thrust before he pulls out. He walks away to get a towel from the bathroom, one of the new ones that housekeeping put in while they were gone, and runs it under the faucet.

Y/n is calmer now, content as Derek presses the cloth to her body. She stretches her arms once they are free and winces as she rolls around. She looks up to Derek with a small smile that moves to the side when he presses his hand to her cheek.

Her legs are like jelly. They are like jelly as Derek helps her up to go pee as he starts the shower, and they are like jelly as they do shower. Her whole body is like jelly as Derek moves the cloth up and down her back, and she is so tired that when she finally rests her head on Derek's shoulder, sleep was bound to pull her under until Derek spoke.

"You need to eat something first."

[one-boring-person]

Cut Myself Shaving.

Stuntman Mike (Death Proof) x reader

Warnings: death, violence, injury, swearing , mention of nsfw

Context: Mike has a little helper in case things go awry.

A/n: I watched Death Proof yesterday and now I'm obsessed with Kurt Russell's character in it...he's such a creep but he's charming at the same time and for some reason that means I'm attracted to him 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ basically, I need help 🤡😅

Masterlist

"Fucking idiot." I curse to myself as I watch the two cars speed past me, both battered and in desperate need of new paint jobs, dust flying out behind them. From my carefully hidden spot in a side road, I can easily tell that my friend's plan hasn't worked: the white car is pursuing the familiar black one, one of the passengers - the blonde woman - leaning from the window, screaming and shouting at their quarry. It sends a wave of irritation through me, that the bastard would get as sloppy as he has done in recent months. His...habits...have always annoyed me (it's totally unnecessary and it means I have to watch him go after beautiful young girls) but he gave me a job out of it, so I never say anything. Somewhere along the line, he managed to fuck up, and picked me as his next target, only to find that when he tried to outdrive me, I drove much better than he did, with just as little care for what happens to the car as he has. The fucker let me in on his secret and I've been his backup ever since, in case anyone ever gets in the way of his little game. 

Now, it seems, I'm gonna have my work cut out for me.

Cursing again, I put the car into drive and gun it down the road, staying hidden behind a treeline, quickly moving through gears with smooth rapidity. Hanging onto the steering, I keep my breathing relaxed as the tyres screech beneath the speeding vehicle, my foot slamming down on the accelerator to get me level with my own targets. Engine roaring, the car jerks and bounces on the rough road surface, my harness keeping me from going through the windscreen a couple of times, the whole vehicle vibrating underneath me. 

Glancing out of my window every few seconds, I make sure I know where Mike and his pursuers are, swearing colourfully to myself as I realise that they're headed towards a busy main road, meaning it'll be harder for me to keep my presence unknown. In my head, I make a note to scold the stuntman for it later, planning a new route as I go, smirking as I figure out exactly how I'm going to save his sorry ass.

For once, I'm glad I looked at and memorized maps of the surrounding area, plus the construction records (I get a lot of free time) so I know what's coming up on this road, the split coming into view just as I expect it to. Taking the left road, I take a deep breath and slam my foot onto the accelerator, pressing a button on the steering wheel. Immediately, a new, more powerful thrum in the engine below me comes to life, growling like some rabid animal as the car springs forwards, the speed dial tapping uselessly at the far end of the spectrum.

Unable to help myself, I let out a cry of exhilaration, hanging onto the steering wheel as I take a bend far too fast, the wheels skidding slightly, only to straighten again under my expertise. With my new route in sight, I grin wildly and brace myself, listening to the car roar at me as I gun it over the edge of the roadside. 

The ground falls away beneath me, the car hurtling through the air towards a similar break in the road down below, where the two cars are just lifting off of the ground, going at a slower speed than mine but posing no less threat. My hands grip the wheel tightly, stomach dropping as the car starts to tip forwards, my muscles tensing in anticipation of what I know is coming.

Time seems to slow as I near them, my pulse pounding deafeningly in my ears, adrenaline coursing through me with the knowledge of what comes next. Staring through the windshield, I feel a smirk of satisfaction cross my face as one of the passengers of the white car turns and sees me, an expression of absolute fear and panic contorting her beautiful features, her eyes wide even as her mouth opens into a scream…

The cars slam into each other violently, the impact throwing me forwards into the harness, the straps jerking me back into my seat. My head falls forwards, heading for the steering wheel, though I manage to get my hands up before anything can happen, despite my knowledge that the safety harness will keep me from sustaining any real damage. Painful lines circle my arms and lap now from the straps, the wind knocked out of me from the sheer force of the collision. Glass flies into the car itself, the windows and windscreens of both vehicles shattering as we go hurtling towards the ground, many shards scraping over my bare arms and hands, leaving bloody wounds in their wakes.

The second impact throws me forwards again, my lungs struggling to force air into my body as the cars smash into the ground, rolling over each other roughly. Holding my arms closer to my body, I lift my hands up to protect my face, grunting as my shoulder is slammed against the side door. Nausea floods my system as the cars continue to roll a few times, my vision blurring over until we eventually come to a complete stop, mine resting just beside theirs. 

Taking a moment, I regain my composure, breathing deeply to fight off the shock threatening to overwhelm me, ignoring the violent tremor in my hands as I scramble for the buckle of the harness. Blood on my fingertips makes it hard for me to grip the clean metal, the digits slipping off of it a few times before I can unclasp myself, pain rapidly spreading through me as the adrenaline starts to wear off. Having unbuckled myself, I try the door beside me, sighing in relief as it comes open under my hands, allowing me to leave the death trap that is the wreckage. 

As I climb out, I grab my first aid kit from the glove compartment, hobbling from my trusty car with a slight sense of bitterness, knowing what I'll have to do to make sure Mike and I really are out of trouble. Glancing back at the main road, I'm glad to find that the crash site is not visible to the road users, so what I'll do now won't get me in any grief if someone were to see me. 

Approaching the crumpled white Dodge, I stoop down to look through the passenger window (the car is upside down), lifting an eyebrow as I realise the occupants are still alive...somehow. As I get closer, the passenger feebly looks up at me, confusion trying to creep into her agonized expression.

"Wh-who are you?" She croaks out, her voice totally shot.

Managing a cruel smirk, I reach into my pocket and bring out a box of matches, taking one out for her to see. 

"The Devil's sidekick." I rasp at her, relishing in the confusion in her eyes, watching as it turns to realisation and horror as I strike the match, lighting it. 

Straightening, I ignore her pleas for mercy, stepping away as I throw the match at the warped hood, adding a second to the undercarriage for good measure, knowing the fuel will catch soon enough. With some difficulty, I limp away from the two cars, getting about ten metres away before a deafening crack splits the air, the wreckage going up in flames in mere seconds. Now it's just a matter of finding my way to the person I've destroyed my car for. 

Thankfully, it doesn't take me long to find him, though when I do, I have to fight back a sound of exasperation. 

Stuntman Mike has pulled over into a deserted side road, just a mile down the main road, making sure he's well hidden, though the amount he's screaming and crying isn't going to keep him like that for long. He's still in his car, but he's left the window open so I can hear every sound of agony and frustration he's making, my heart tugging slightly at the cries of pain. Sighing, I make my way over, holding onto the roof of the car for support as my leg finally gives a little, my face twisting into a grimace. I must've made some noise when I did so, as Mike suddenly shouts in horror, the car engine starting to splutter as he tries to get the beaten vehicle to move again. Quickly, I reach the open window, which I now realise is smashed in, grabbing hold of it and ducking to look into the interior.

"It's me! Mike, calm down, it's me! (Y/n)!" I reassure him as he turns terror-stricken eyes on me, his face pale and bloodied from a blow to his cheek. 

"(Y/n)? What happened to you?" He breathes out, eyes roaming over me as he realises back into his seat, only to tense in pain again. 

"Cut myself shaving." I mutter in response, pulling the door open and moving to help him out, having noticed that he's in worse shape than I thought he'd be.

Taking his weight, I bite back a sound of discomfort as my leg protests, my shoulder aching from where it connected with my car but I ignore it, dragging him from the driver's seat. Slinging his arm over my shoulders, I help him hobble over to a nearby rock, setting him down on it with a sigh, standing back to look him over, glad I brought my first aid kit now. 

The stuntman is cradling his left arm, where a patch of his t-shirt has come away to reveal bloodied skin, his face splattered with the crimson stuff. Purple bruising blooms on one cheek, curling up over his gnarled scar and around his weaker eye, skin grazed away in places from the ferocity of the blow. He looks thoroughly shaken, eyes wide, breaths coming hard and fast, body trembling with the fading adrenaline. 

Sighing, I go closer, kneeling beside the rock he's sat on to look at his injuries, looking up at him as I reach out to touch his arm. Reluctantly, he nods, his ego bruised as I gently place a hand on his bicep.

"Careful, I'm pretty sure it's broken." He murmurs, wincing as I feel over the tensed muscles, trying not to get too distracted by the proximity. 

"Yeah, got it." I mumble, chewing my lip in consternation, "You're gonna have to take this off."

Gesturing to his shirt, I lean forwards to help him out of the garment, pulling it carefully over his head. Mike gives me a slightly embarrassed look, but I dismiss it and open the first aid kit, swallowing as I look over his torso. For a guy his age he's really not a bad looking guy - the man has stayed somewhat in shape over the years - making it hard to concentrate, especially as I realise I'm going to have to kneel between his legs in order to get to the wound properly. 

Blushing, I pull some gauze and rubbing alcohol out of the kit, taking up a position between his thighs where I can easily reach the bloody puncture wound in his shoulder. He watches me closely as I reach up and feel over his back for an exit wound, glad to find one even as he tenses and hisses under my touch. Knowing I need to work quickly, I get started, cleaning up the puncture as best I can, wiping away blood enough so that I can plug the hole and tape it up, sticking a bandage over it. I go to repeat this on his other side, working quickly. 

"How the hell did you get shot?" I ask him after a moment, finding the silence between us awkward. 

"One of those bitches pulled a gun on me.  Shot at me a couple of times, before it hit me. Hurts like a bitch." Mike explains, hissing again as I prod the wound a little too hard. 

"She pulled a gun? How did you even get close enough?" I'm confused as to his story, having only seen that it ended in him being chased onto the freeway. 

Allowing me to continue working on his injuries, Mike recites his version of events, voice strained in pain and fatigue, eyes never leaving me as I move around him, cleaning up his scrapes and bruises. After a while, I end up at his face, carefully dabbing at a few grazes with an alcohol-soaked piece of gauze. Standing this close to him, I can feel his every breath on my cheek, vaguely aware of the fingers clutching at my jacket every now and then as I go over a particularly painful spot, my pulse picking up slightly. 

"...next thing I know, you're at my window looking like you just walked through hell." He finishes, licking his lips to wet them again as he pulls his shirt back on.

"Feels like I did." I laugh dryly, leaning back as I finish on his face, "I'll be back in a sec, hang on."

Quickly, I limp over to his car again, rifling through his things in the compartment by his seat before pulling a small bottle from the rubbish. Going back to him, I stand in front of him and hold it up.

"Mind if I…?" I gesture to him, pointing at his arm, which I've now put in a sling to keep out of harm's way.

The stuntman nods, tilting his head back as I step into his personal space again, standing between his legs. Carefully, I open the bottle and lean over him, gently placing a hand on his face to steady myself, trying not to let the butterflies in my stomach disturb me as his blue pupils fix on me. Slowly, I drip a few drops into his eyes, using a thumb to wipe away any stray droplets, almost smiling as he leans into my touch slightly. I pull away reluctantly, screwing the bottle back up and chucking it at the first aid kit before I take a seat beside him, inadvertently sitting close enough that our thighs are touching. 

Sighing, I reach into my pocket, pulling a pack of cigarettes out and removing one, offering them to him as I grab the box of matches from before again. He doesn't take one, saying something about sharing mine, watching me closely as I light it. Taking the first breath of smoke, I close my eyes and enjoy the burning of the cloud entering my lungs, slowly breathing it out again a moment later. Wordlessly, I hand the smoke to him, willing to share with him as I've always done, keeping my eyes closed for now. 

After a while, Mike hands the cigarette back, letting me take it as I stay blinded, placing the roll of paper and tobacco between my lips to puff on it languidly. It's not too long after that I feel a hand gingerly come to rest on my knee. Confused, I keep my eyes closed, not minding the contact and curious to see where this goes, holding back a gasp as he moves the strong grip further up my leg, closing his fingers over my thigh. A rustle and stifled grunt of pain alerts me to his movements, though it still shocks me a little as he leans in to smooth some hair from my face, removing the grip from my leg. Opening my eyes again, I look over at him, surprised to see him gazing at me with an intense expression on his face. 

Upon seeing me look, he cups my cheek, stroking his thumb over my cheekbone in a gentle manner I've never seen him display. I don't know what comes over me, but I suddenly find myself talking.

"Please don't do anything like that again." I murmur, voice quiet, "I don't know what I'd do if something happened."

Mike looks taken aback, shock clouding his features as he regards me, as if he never expected this level of closeness with me.

"Please, Mike. I don't know why, or how, but I've come to care about you, and I couldn't bear it if you weren't around." I inform him, looking down in embarrassment, blushing furiously. 

It's quiet for a long moment, before he suddenly leans in closer, breath ghosting over my face until he seals my lips with his. Tenderly, the stuntman kisses me, gently coaxing me into moving with him, one hand slipping round to tangle in my hair. Shocked, I feel my eyes close in surprised pleasure, body melting into him as he pulls me closer, our lips moving in perfect sync, his slightly rougher ones warm against my softer ones. It's not long before I feel his tongue slip out to flick against my lower lip, but before I can open up for him, he pulls away, resting his forehead against mine.

"I'll be more careful, I swear." He hums, stroking back my hair with his good hand, "For you, I'll be careful."

Smiling, I lean back in, kissing him softly on the lips, moving with him as he gently encourages me to sit on his lap, my legs straddling his as he wraps his arm around me. Pulling me flush against him, he kisses me passionately, swallowing the sounds of pleasure leaving me, splaying his hand on my back as I card mine through his thick hair. This time as he licks at my lips, I let him in immediately, letting the slick muscle slide inside to explore and rub alongside my own. Avoiding his bad arm, I moan into the kiss and pull on his hair, eliciting a groan from him. 

He pulls away again after some time, staring into my eyes with a care and love  I've never seen in them before, my heart skipping a beat as he smiles up at me, a genuine smile. Not his usual scheming smirk.

"Come on, let's go home. I wanna show you just how careful I can be." Mike smirks, his hand skimming down to squeeze a handful of my ass, making my hips rock forwards suddenly into his. He groans, helping me stand.

With his words in mind, I help him over to the car, opening the back door for him to climb in.

"I'm not letting you drive with one arm, and this is safer than the passenger's seat." I say as he shoots me a questioning look.

Mike shrugs and mutters an agreement, climbing into the seat behind me, waiting for me to get into the driver's seat and fasten myself in before talking again. 

"What happened to your car?" He asks, his good hand reaching round to run his fingers over my arm.

"Used it to blow up those bitches coming after you." I inform him, somewhat saddened by the loss of the vehicle - I had loved it.

"Thanks, sugar." He says, using his favourite nickname, most likely aware of the effect it has on me, especially as I feel him lean closer to the back of the seat, nosing at the side of my neck. Deftly, his tongue flicks out to lick over my pulse point, lips pressing against it to suck a mark, there drawing a moan from me.

"Gonna have to get you a new car, hm?" He almost purrs into my ear, biting my ear lobe before retreating again.

Feeling heat rushing to my core, I reluctantly put the car into drive and start to pull away, going slow as I wait for him to settle back into his seat and buckle himself up.

"That would be great." I chuckle, shakily.

"Yeah, it will be. Means I'll have somewhere else to fuck you besides mine and the bed." I blanch at his lewd words, feeling a heated need explode inside me at the idea of what he's suggesting.

As I pull away, I can't help but go faster than usual, using all my expertise to get us home as quickly as possible.

-

Tag list- @feirceangel @xlmonster-mashlx

[teawaffles]

There’s No Business Like Show Business: Chapter 2

The next day.

After finishing his work at the mansion, Bond headed to Whitechapel’s Leman Street, where Maya and her company normally held their rehearsals. [1]

Walking down the noisy street was not just Bond, but also three other employees of the Moriarty household. One of them was Fred Porlock.

“It would’ve been fine if only you came along, Fred…… But thanks for joining us anyway, you two.”

Bond directed that to Jack Renfield and Sebastian Moran, who were walking a little behind him.

As Fred was a master of disguise, Bond had asked him to contribute his opinion on the performance too when Jack and Moran decided to tag along. Now the four of them were on their way to the rehearsal — with Louis’ permission of course.

Jack roared with laughter.

“No, you don’t have to thank me. I’ve watched my fair share of theatre, so I thought I could help them out, even if it’s from an amateur’s perspective,” said the old butler, nodding as he reminisced about those good old days.

“You’re probably just after the young girls from the theatre company, aren’t you old man?” Moran said, half in disgust. “Bond said this Maya chairwoman is a dashing lady in her own right, so I came along to feast my eyes on—— Ow, that hurt!”

Jack had clapped Moran on the head, as a warning to not shoot his mouth off.

“The only one here chasing women is you. Really, you didn’t even finish your chores properly before coming here.”

“I did my part just fine. For once, I’m not skipping out on work.”

“Rubbish — I did a check before we left and found some cigarette butts in the hallway. Don’t you dare annoy Louis any further.”

“……W-Well, the more the merrier, right?”

“…………”

Listening to their usual argument at the back of the group, Bond smiled wryly, while Fred was silent.

Finally, they had reached their destination. Waiting in front of the theatre was Maya, and her little sister Mae.

“Mister Bond!”

“Hey, haven’t seen you since yesterday.”

Mae waved her arms up and down in excitement, while Bond greeted them with a smile.

“S—sorry. Normally, she would play with the other children near our place, but today she insisted on coming with me…… By the way, um, who might these, d—dignified gentlemen be?”

“Ah, they work at the same household as me. The short one here is Fred. The somewhat scary-looking one is Moran. And this dandy old gentleman is Mr Jack. If you’re alright with it, I thought you could use their input as well.”

As Bond introduced them, the three men also greeted their host. But Maya seemed a little perplexed.

“……Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to come here in a big group,” Bond admitted, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“No, no.” Maya hurriedly waved her hands. “I—I’m really grateful to be able to, hear valuable feedback from, so many people. For now, let’s not stand here to talk, please come in……”

Maya guided them into the theatre, stooped in a self-abasing posture. Her faltering voice was much as the same as from their previous encounter, but today, nerves seemed to have crept in as well.

“She has a sort of shadow about her, but that has its own charm. Like the transient beauty of a young widow, don’t you think?”

“She’s pretty, for sure, but not really my type. More like the kind of woman who complicates things when you break up with her.”

“Um, sorry you two, but if you could just keep your voices down,” chided Bond, as Jack and Moran whispered about the chairwoman behind her back.

Right after the entrance was a cramped space. The box seats above them looked hastily constructed; in truth, the interior decorations made it seem more appropriate to call this place a playhouse, rather than a proper theatre.

But their guide had only praise. “The manager here is, a really nice person; whenever we say we want to practise, he’s always happy to lend it to us. There are performances held at night, so we can only use it during the day.”

“He trusts you, doesn’t he.”

Hearing her speak with such sincere gratitude, Bond was quietly impressed by her character. Perhaps her dark aura easily invited misunderstanding, but she was definitely genuine at heart.

“Speaking of which, Miss Maya, you said that you’re the director for this performance, but surely someone else is responsible for the sets and the arrangements at the other theatre during this time?”

“Another member is in charge of the sets, but the negotiations and the like, w—were handled by me. Even so, the manager of the larger theatre — a nobleman — had actually approached us to be the opening act for another company, and I just accepted his invitation.”

“Still, isn’t it great to be invited to perform on a bigger stage, even if it’s just as an opening act?”

“Yes; for people like us — a theatre company from the slums, we don’t have many chances to show the world what we can do, so everyone’s doing their very best.”

Saying that, Maya secretly clenched her fists. Surely the one working the hardest was none other than Maya herself.

There was no audience in the stalls, and on the stage were a number of men and women — likely the company members themselves — doing light warm-ups and vocal exercises. A few of the children he’d met yesterday were also frolicking about on stage.

One exceptionally tall man on the stage had noticed Bond and the others enter the hall, and spoke up.

“Oh, is that the rumoured theatre master?”

Moran whistled at this unusually grand title.

“Theatre master, eh. A fitting name considering your experience, Bond.”

“Fufu, I’m honoured.”

Bond accepted it with his innate courage and composure. Then, he went onto the stage with Maya, while the other three sat in the stalls at the far end, so as to not stand out and interfere with the rehearsal.

The company members each stopped what they were doing and lined up in wait.

“Everyone, this is Mr Bond, who will be watching our performance today,” introduced Maya.

Right then and there, her voice had become clearer and stronger. A little taken aback by the sudden change in her attitude, Bond took a quick look around the room.

“Hello to you all. I’m looking forward to what you have for me today,” he said solemnly, as he bowed.

“We’ll do our best!” The company members bowed their heads in unison.

From their greeting, Bond could feel the the quality of their bearing, and the strength of their cohesion. Not only that, the tension he himself once felt when he stood on stage came rushing back in waves.

He switched his frame of mind from that of a special agent, to that of an actor, and looked over Maya and her company with an earnest gaze.

“Well then, without further ado, please show me what you’ve got.”

“Yes!”

Even though his instructions had been given with no introductory remarks, they asked no unnecessary questions, and jumped straight into preparation. Even though they had only put up plays in cheap theatres, Maya’s company already displayed the high level of professionalism they had developed.

“Miss Maya, what’s the programme for today?” Bond asked, as he moved to the row of seats right in front of the stage.

Maya was also directing Mae and the other children to sit down. “We’re starting with ‘The Red Shoes’, followed by ‘The Little Mermaid’, and lastly, ‘The Little Match Girl’.”

“Hmm, fairytales, I see.”

The unexpected subject matter piqued his interest.

In a time when Shakespeare was all the rage, to perform children’s literature in a proper theatre, and a serious scripted play at that — now this was a bold move.

But as someone who liked to do things unconventionally, that was precisely why their play intrigued Bond. Yesterday’s playful rendition of “The Little Match Girl” was probably inspired by it as well.

Then, the tall man who noticed Bond earlier spoke up.

“Ain’t it interesting? Maya always makes sure to write plays that even us poor dumb folk understand. Today’s script is also entirely her work,” he said cheerfully.

“Weren’t you in charge of creating the play too? You should be able to write at least one decent line of dialogue.”

At the man’s self-satisfied tone, a woman beside him sighed. But he ignored her pointed comment and carried on.

“There were a bunch of people who’d always thought ‘Hamlet’ and ‘Macbeth’ and the like were plain boring; but after Maya broke them down into something easier to follow, they’ve gotten hooked onto Shakespeare.”

“Being able to interpret works in a way that everyone can understand…… A wonderful talent indeed.”

But if you were to put on a proper production of Shakespeare in an unregulated theatre like this, you would be caught by the censors. To avoid that, incorporating music and the like into their productions was a brilliant adaptation on their part.

Bond had said that last part out loud, and the man thanked him for his words of praise. The members of the company had shown their admiration for Maya, but the woman herself took in a deep breath, as if to hide her embarrassment.

In other words, in order to put on a play that everyone could follow, the answer she'd arrived at was “fairytales”. Although it may be the best choice given the short length of the opening act……

“I’m sitting next to Mister Bond!”

“Hey, no fair!”

Bond had been absorbed in thought about the contents of the play. Nearby, the children were scrambling for the best spots. Having won the seat to the left of Bond, Mae asked him a question.

“Mister Bond, do you like ‘fairy tales’?”

That pulled him out of his thought process for a moment, and Mae smiled.

“Yeah. I read them when I was a child.”

“I like them too, because Maya and the rest always read them in a fun way—”

“Me too!” The other children raised their hands and shouted. Reading stories aloud while acting out the roles was indeed a theatrical way of reading to children.

However, Mae immediately pouted in frustration.

“But I really hate that story.”

“……Why is that?”

“The little girl always looks so sad. I tried asking Maya to give it a happy ending, but she just said that we have to ‘respect the intent of the story’ and didn’t listen.”

Her words helped Bond discern the true nature of the incongruity he'd felt.

As Mae had said, all three stories had their protagonists fall into unfortunate circumstances and perish. It was true that many fairytales were cruel, but there were others with happy endings too. Was there some hidden intent behind these choices?

As Bond pondered the new question that surfaced in his mind, Mae leaned in towards him.

“Mister Bond, do you also think it’s important, what Maya said? No matter how sad a story is, can’t we make it happy on our own?”

She asked that question with clear eyes. Bond thought for a few seconds, before responding.

“It’s true that it’s important to understand the intention of the original story. If you change its contents haphazardly, the fans of the story would be upset. I think your sister is the type who would take that very seriously.”

Mae glanced down in disappointment at his level-headed answer, but Bond continued.

“However, if we were all afraid of criticism, then nothing new would ever be made. If you have something you really want to tell others, then I think it’s possible to add a new interpretation to a story. After all, one form of respect is to show the world how you would’ve done it.”

“……Oh I see!”

Mae brightened up, and Bond smiled. Her question was one that had always, and would continue to vex all interpreters of stories. But at the very least, he didn’t want to make a decision on which way was right.

Just as their conversation had come to an end, it seemed the preparations for the performance were now complete.

“Without further ado, let us begin.”

Standing on a platform, Maya gave a bow, and with that the curtain rose.

Footnotes:

[1] Leman Street is a little to the north-east of the Tower of London and St. Katharine Docks, and within walking distance of both.

T/N: Is this chapter some meta-level commentary on the series itself?! omg

[justcourttee]

An Akuma shows up at school for a specific target in Mind: Bustier. Revealing the Akuma was an former student and wants retribution for her ‘teachings’ of being a ‘good example’ made a negative impact on their mental and emotional health. Mainly Bustier facing the consequences of her actions, and revealed a lot more have suffered. No class bashing, or salt. Except doing to Lila and Bustier

I like this prompt so much and I couldn’t wait to finish it! Hope it was close to what you imagined! 

Karma

Marinette paced the hallway outside the door of her classroom waiting for Mme. Bustier to meet her there for what she could guess would be yet another lecture on being the bigger person. It was so frustrating.

The sound of the door opening caught her attention as her teacher finally arrived, a small frown gracing her face.

“Now Marinette, I don’t understand what is going on between you and Lila, but you need to be the bigger person here like you always are. You know she has a disease and your outburst in class was unacceptable.”

“But Mme. Bustier! She was spreading lies about my friend! Adrien isn’t here to rebuttal for himself but I know he wouldn’t appreciate her lying about their relationship.”

Marinette crossed her arms in deviance only earning a dissatisfied headshake from her favorite teacher. Her heart sank a little at the idea that Bustier really meant for her to apologize to Lila yet again.

She didn’t even bother waiting for her response as she slunk back towards the door, already giving in before the argument could even begin. Her hand reached toward the handle only pausing when she heard a soft gasp from behind.

Marinette turned just in time to see a woman enveloped in the purple smoke that could only point to one thing. An akumanization.

“Mme. Bustier, let’s go.”

Marinette used all of her strength to pull her teacher out of her daze as they made a beeline down the stairs, away from the emerging victim. Without thinking, Marinette brought her phone to her ear, the number already dialing before her foot hit the ground level.

“Hey girl, what happened with Bustier? Are-”

“No time Alya, akuma outside the classroom, ring the alarm and lock the door, Bustier and I are going to be fine but help everyone else.”

She didn’t wait for a response as she slipped her phone back into her pocket. They were mere steps away from the lockers when a figure dropped in front of Marinette causing her to skid to a stop.

“Caline Bustier, I see you are still the same. Coddling the bully’s feelings and dropping all responsibility for their actions on innocent students.”

Bustier tried to shake her head, deny the accusation but she couldn't find her voice. The woman cocked her head at Marinette as if trying to decide if she was worth the trouble to get to the teacher. Deciding she wasn’t, she lowered what looked like a ribbon extending from her sleeve.

“Little girl, please go, be free. I will take care of Bustier, make sure she never hurts you again.”

Marinette shook her in disbelief as she stared at the woman with curiosity.

“She’s never laid a hand on me, I think you have the wrong person.”

Hearing Marinette’s voice snapped Bustier out of her trance as she attempted to push Marinette behind her and out of danger. The akuma’s face softened as she reached out to gingerly cup Marinette’s cheek.

“I too used to think she was an angel too. Someone sent down to protect me from everything bad in this world, but she’s not. She manipulates you into thinking it’s your fault that the Lila’s of this world exists.”

“That’s not true, Stephanie, please. Leave Marinette out of this. You had so much potential, I didn’t want to see you waste it by stooping down to their level-”

“Hush witch, it’s Professor Karma now.” Her voice was cold sending a shiver down Marinette’s back as she turned her attention back to the girl. “It makes you disappointed in not only her but yourself too. You begin to think you’re to blame for everyone incapable of change. Being the bigger person takes a mental toll, let me help ease that for you.”

Marinette hadn’t noticed the relief that had seeped through her body originating from the woman’s touch. It was so soothing, she just wanted to give in and let her take all the weight from her shoulders.

“Stay away from her!”

Marinette’s eyes flew back open as Chat Noir landed a blow onto the akuma in front of her.

“You ruined the process! You dumb hero! I could’ve taken all her pain away for her, but you just had to step in didn’t you.”

Chat Noir took a defensive stance between the akuma and Marinette.

“That’s not what it looked like to me. You were lulling her to sleep, her body was turning blue!”

Marinette looked down at her hands as the blue faded back to her normal pale color. Gods, what had she almost done? The fight needs Ladybug and she was about to give in to the akuma for what? A little bit of relief?

She sidestepped as the akuma slung its ribbons trying to bring Chat Noir down. Marinette wasn’t sure how much longer he could last by himself, but she couldn't leave Bustier by herself. She reached forward gripping Bustier's hand, startling the woman.

“C’mon Mme Bustier, we need to get you out of here.”

The teacher still seemed in a daze, a longing look in her eyes directed toward the akuma.

“Go Marinette, hide, please. I need to be here for Stephanie.”

Marinette wanted to protest, but this was her chance. She had a better chance of helping her as Ladybug than as Marinette. Without looking backward, she made a run for the exit, trying to ignore Chat’s taunting as he continued playing his dangerous game of cat and mouse.

“Tikki, was the akuma right? Am I really taking a toll from just Mme. Bustier’s words?”

“Marinette, you’ve always done so much for your class and for that woman. Eventually, it was going to catch up with you, especially when everyone expects nothing less than perfect. Nobody’s perfect, not even us Gods.”

Marinette called on her transformation, Tikki’s words ringing in her head. She knew Mme. Bustier only meant well, she wanted to push Marinette to be her very best on all levels including her personal life, but Tikki was right, she expected perfect Marinette everyday and she was never allowed to slip up even for a moment.

It was exhausting.

Marinette charged into the scene just in time to catch a limp Chat Noir, his skin completely blue. Her eyes widened as she nudged his cheek, trying to elicit any sort of reaction from him.

“What did you do to him?!”

The akuma’s smile was almost ghastly, nothing like the sweet and caring woman that had held Marinette only minutes earlier.

“I took all his pain from him. Now he will be in a peaceful sleep. You should be grateful, after all, he’ll never be hurt again.”

Marinette felt a heat rushing to her face as she tried to level her emotions. Gently laying him to the ground, Marinette placed a small kiss on her forehead, almost recoiling from how icy he felt.

“Now, it is your turn Caline.”

Before Marinette could move, the akuma's hand had already reached Bustier’s face

“Sleep is too peaceful for you. No, you Caline Bustier will turn on your own methods and finally punish those who deserve it.”

Marinette swung her yo-yo and the woman, trying to pull her teacher away, but it was useless. She watched as Bustier turned a warm shade of orange, her pupils enlarging until all that was left of her eye was a small patch of white in the corner.

“Gods, no.” Marinette raised her hand to her mouth in horror at her former teacher.

With a renewed fury, Marinette swung forward dodging the ribbons that seemed to move on their own.

“C’mon hero, shouldn’t you be for this idea! This woman breaks down the strong and raises the bullies on thrones, she deserves every minute of her punishment.”

Marinette cried out as her yo-yo finally made contact with a small locket sitting on the akuma’s chest. A small purple butterfly quickly flitted out but her yo-yo was quicker snatching it mid-air. As she released the butterfly, she ran back to where her partner laid, the color fading from his skin as he returned to a healthier shade.

Once she was sure he was going to be fine, Marinette walked over to the victim.

“Stephanie? Are you okay?”

She crouched to where the woman was sitting, her locket opened in her hand. Risking a peek, Marinette’s heart melted at the small phrase that it held inside.

“If we wish to change the world, we must all learn to love each other. It’s what she first told me when I entered her class all those years ago.”

Marinette risked a look over to where Bustier stood. The woman’s eyes were wide with concern as she fiddled with her sleeve. Offering a hand to Stephanie, Marinette helped her stand.

“You really hurt me Caline. Do you understand how much of a perfectionist I became? It was unhealthy. I lost jobs for taking too long on projects because I knew I couldn't turn in something that wasn’t example worthy. Do you know how many raises I missed out on because I took the high road and let my coworkers walk all over me, claiming my victories as their own?”

Bustier opened her mouth and closed it as if she was a gaping fish. Marinette slowly became conscious of the gathering crowd, all watching the exchange between the two women.

“Maybe-”

The woman held a hand to Marinette’s face as she marched forward, her own eyes watering in frustration.

“Did you know that I finally got a job on the school board? I was coming to observe your class, confident that you had realized your error by now, but then do you know what I overhear? You scolding another poor young girl like you did to me all those years ago. Do you know how many people you have hurt?”

Marinette took a step backward as she helped Chat Noir to his feet, both unsure how to handle the situation in front of them.

“What do we do my lady?”

“I’m not sure there’s much we can do.”

They watched as the color drained from Bustier’s face as Stephanie took a step forward. Her eyes narrowed in on the woman as she cleared her throat.

“Let’s make one thing clear here. I’ll return at a random date to do this observation and if I feel in the slightest way that the young woman I saw or anyone for that matter is falling victim to your abuse then I will see to it that you never teach again. Understood?”

Bustier simply nodded as the woman turned on her heel, exiting the building as chaos exploded. Marinette shared a look with Chat Noir as they both swung out of the school, trying to keep neutral faces.

It wasn’t the way they would’ve handled it, but maybe a little karma is what they needed to push for a change and neither could deny how ready they were for that.

Permanent Tag List:

@damianette-is-life @ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss

[wheresmynaya]

Hate to Date Ch.9 | Brittana

A/N - Lots to process, hey? I’ve been seeing in the reviews all the guesses of who will develop feelings first (& the few that are convinced they’ve already figured it out lol). It’s always interesting to see what y’all are thinking! Anyways, thanks for “tuning in” each Friday & thanks to those who have gifted me a coffee through ko-fi too. While I’m still in Lockdown 6.0, it’s really the little things that make a big difference. Until next time! 💙

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

“Okay,” Santana huffs as she turns to the blonde. “I know Artie’s your friend and you’ve got history and all but fuck that guy. Seriously, what the hell was that?”

Brittany nods along sadly, “I figured you’d say that once you met him.”

“God,” Santana shakes her head still coming down from wanting to cause bodily harm to him. “He really is a tool. Like the balls on him, complimenting you in front of your girlfriend. What a dick!”

“Yeah,” Brittany scratches at the back of her neck. “I told you he’s changed a lot.”

“You mean he used to be less of a dick at some point?”

“Surprisingly, yeah,” Brittany replies. “He won Most Brilliant Brainiac last year and now he thinks he’s God’s gift.”

Santana scoffs, “A gift that needs to be returned.”

“Stop,” Brittany scolds lightly. “He’s still my friend.”

“Well you sure know how to pick them.”

Brittany frowns and Santana instantly regrets uttering the words. Sometimes her mouth runs faster than her head can filter and by then it’s too late. Usually she wouldn’t feel bad about speaking so honestly but there’s something about the way Brittany pokes out her bottom lip like that that makes Santana falter.

“Sorry,” Santana says guiltily.

Brittany looks to Santana and nods, “I know he’s not the easiest person to get along with now, but he does have his moments.”

“Does he? I mean, what is the appeal?” Santana questions genuinely. “Because the personality is not a winner. I don’t even see him with a hot piece like me for arm candy.”

Brittany chuckles, “Yeah. I’m surprised about that too. I thought he would’ve brought two dates just to show off.”

Santana scrunches her nose in disgust, “It would take more than two dates to change my mind about him. Why does your team keep him around?”

“They love him. He’s so knowledgeable about so many things. He’s perfect for academic decathlons,” Brittany shrugs. “But I’m not sure how long it’ll last. He’s a great mentor but he’s gotten so critical of everyone, even me.”

“Especially you,” Santana corrects. She starts to feel heated all over again, “I can’t believe the way he spoke to you. Who the fuck does he think he is? Like sure, I can find you a little hard to swallow sometimes and it’s annoying how you’re just naturally great at so many things but I’d never say the things he did.”

“Honestly, I’ve heard worse things,” Brittany reasons. It sounds as though she’s trying to be lighthearted but the look on her face is anything but and that breaks Santana’s heart a little. “Artie’s criticism is nothing compared to what people used to say about me growing up.”

Santana frowns, “That doesn’t make it okay though. You know that, right?”

“It’s fine. I’ve got tough skin.”

“That’s not the point,” Santana sighs. “You shouldn’t have to take that kind of crap from anyone.”

“Sometimes you have to,” Brittany replies. “Sometimes you just have to take it and do the hard work in silence. Let the success speak for itself. Getting caught up in what everyone thinks is exactly how I lost my way before, so I’m not going to do it again.”

Santana shakes her head. She gets it – she really does – but it doesn’t make it any less okay.

These little glimpses of Brittany’s childhood really make Santana feel for her. She was fortunate enough to have parents and teachers who encouraged her studies – sometimes in an overbearing ways – but at least she had the support.

For Brittany, it seems like all odds were against her and for some twerp like Artie thinking he gets to be another one of those little voices making Brittany doubt herself really grinds Santana’s gears. He’s the worst kind of manipulative.

“It’s fine, really,” Brittany adds upon Santana’s silence. “I can take it when it’s coming from a friend.”

“Friend?” Santana laughs dismissively, “We’re not even friends and I’d never put you down like that.”

Brittany looks at her curiously and it makes Santana feel suddenly self conscious. Maybe her honesty has gotten her trouble yet again?

“Really?” Brittany asks.

Santana doesn’t hesitate, “Well yeah.”

Brittany’s shoulders ease a little and Santana takes that as a sign to continue.

“I was seriously this close to slapping him upside the head,” She says. “I may be many things and people may have occasionally called me a bitch from time to time, but even I wouldn’t stoop to the level he’s on. I wouldn’t put down my friend.”

Brittany’s brows rise, almost out of disbelief.

Santana wants to ask what that look is, but she’s a little nervous about the answer so instead she averts her attention to the dancefloor. She keeps her eyes roaming the crowd, avoiding meeting Brittany’s gaze.

“He’s just a little blunt,” Brittany attempts to reason again.

Santana shakes her head, “Whatever it is, you’re better off without him.”

Brittany sighs, “I just, I still care about him. I know I shouldn’t, but I don’t know. Have you ever felt that before? Wanting to hold out hope for someone to change?”

Santana’s anger dissipates for a second. Those words resonate with her and drudge up an unwanted memory. Has she ever felt the way Brittany does? The blonde has no idea…

Upon her silence, Brittany continues.

“You probably think I’m crazy but,” Brittany lets out a tired sigh. “Maybe I am. I just wish there was a way to bring back the real him – the one that took the time to show me around when I was new here. You know, the one who cared.”

Santana softens, because she knows the feeling all too well and it sucks big time.

“Don’t we all,” She mumbles.

Brittany looks to her, brows raised. Santana finds herself meeting Brittany’s gaze again and it’s like with one look at her the truth is impossible to hold back.

“How long do we have to suffer before we realize they’re not coming back though?” Santana asks. “What if that’s who they are now? This uncaring, unloving, unfazed ghost of a person we can’t even recognize anymore. That’s all we get and we’ve just got to deal with it and…and move on.”

Brittany looks at her curiously.

Santana averts her gaze to the crowd again, “Once again we have way too much in common for my liking.”

“What do you mean?”

Santana sighs, “I mean, you should just cut your losses now before it’s too late.”

Brittany smirks but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “Clearly you’ve never been in love before. It’s a bit harder than that. Not that this is love, I don’t know what this is.”

“It’s not love, that’s for sure.”

“Like you’d know,” Brittany jokes lightly.

Santana has the urge to laugh.

She’s almost forgotten that Brittany still doesn’t know that much about her past, because if she did she’d would know that Santana, of all people, knows what it’s like to be in love with someone you wish you weren’t.

“Well, I know it’s better to be told straight up about how you feel rather than to always wonder what went wrong or what could’ve been,” Santana finds herself saying. “But sometimes we don’t get that luxury. Maybe it’s just better to let it go and move on.”

“Or maybe he’ll finally snap out of it and see what he’s been missing now that I’m in this fake relationship with you.”

Santana’s surprised by Brittany’s honesty. The blonde looks surprised that it escaped her, but the two just stand there staring – trying to grasp the gravity of what they’ve both revealed.

Brittany’s using Santana to win over Artie; it’s almost laughable and yet, Santana can do nothing but stare in disbelief. She gets it though; she’s desirable, completely out of someone like Artie’s reach. Dating her would be enough to rattle anyone with eyes so it makes sense.

She knew Brittany was cunning, but it still surprises her. At least Santana’s reasoning for doing all of this has to do with her future, but Brittany? What’s Artie have to do with hers?

Santana scrunches her nose as her head starts filling in the blanks to that question. She pictures Artie in her place beside Brittany; them holding hands as they make their way to class, them making dumb googly eyes at each other at the library, them being this unstoppable power couple because of their success in academic decathlons.

It’s gross.

But who is she to pass judgement? She’s doing all of this because she couldn’t hold down a relationship to save her life, she’s in no position to judge Brittany’s.

And it’s not like this is the first time she’s been used like this before. Some of the girls she has been with only need her for a night, a way to get back at an ex or to make someone jealous. If anything, she’s become kind of an expert when it comes to being the middle-woman.

What’s the difference knowing Brittany’s doing the same? She supposes there isn’t one.

“Well, I guess I’ve found the real reason why you agreed to do this,” Santana says to fill the silence. As the words leave her, there’s an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Brittany looks away and replies, “I guess so.”

There’s a long pause where the two of them look anywhere but at each other. Santana’s gears are moving a mile a minute just trying to figure out the why of it all while Brittany’s – Brittany’s a mystery.

Santana glances back at her curiously, watching her profile and suddenly wanting to know more. How could someone be so blindly hopeful? Who knows if she’ll ever get that answer, but until then she still has to fulfill her obligation to Brittany tonight.

“Well, if this is what you really want to do then,” Santana pauses – trying to shake off the surprise and get back into the zone. Tonight’s about Brittany and being her perfect fake girlfriend and what Brittany wants, Brittany gets. “Then we’ve got to do this the right way. Really show him what he’s missing.”

Brittany quirks a brow, “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Guys like him always want what they can’t have,” Santana says simply. “It’ll be so easy.”

“And what do you suggest?”

Santana smirks, “Just follow my lead.”

\\

Santana’s lead ends up involving lots of flirting. Her goal was to help Brittany make Artie jealous, but she secretly kind of likes the uncomfortable look he gets anytime he happens to glance their way. He’s not so cocky and arrogant now!

It only gets worse when Brittany offers Santana a dance.

They find Mike and Tina again on the dancefloor and the couple waves to Santana and Brittany happily before getting lost in the music again. Santana and Brittany do the same, but it takes them a second before they find their synchronicity.

Afterall, this is their first time dancing together – things are bound to get a little awkward.

Thankfully, it’s all upbeat stuff – songs that are easy to groove to and they find their rhythm a couple songs in. The couple keeps it tame for the most part, almost forgetting what all of this is for, until they notice Artie watching again from a distance.

Brittany notices him first and starts dipping her hands lower and lower down Santana’s back, letting them settle low around her waist. It has Santana’s heart rate spiking until she catches on and starts letting her hands roam too.

“Poor guy,” Santana jokes when she catches sight of him. “He has no idea what he’s started.”

Brittany chuckles although she shakes her head, “It’s almost mean.”

“Fuck him,” Santana shrugs before turning her back to Brittany. She reaches back with one hand settling at the base of Brittany’s neck. “It’s his loss. Isn’t that the point of this?”

“You’re right,” Brittany nods. She leans into the crook of Santana’s neck, “His loss.”

Brittany then sets her hands on Santana’s hips, strong and steady, and pulls her in close so that their hips fit snuggly. It surprisingly tugs at something deep and dormant within Santana and she finds herself leaning into it, rolling her head back to rest against Brittany’s shoulder.

With the way Brittany’s rocking into her along with the beat, Santana has to bite her cheek to keep from making a noise. Who knew someone who spends most of their day in a musty library could move like this? Santana’s a little starstruck to say the least.

She can’t remember the last time she danced with someone like this and she starts to feel the effects of the alcohol and a tiny bit of desperation because it’s been such a long time. It’s actually sad how tightly she’s wound up. She’s sure she’d probably snap from just a touch which is so not her style, but she knows she’s not in the right kind of company to finally break.

She’s on the job; Brittany’s a job and there’s no time for mixing pleasure with work.

But damn, does it feel good when Brittany’s hands squeeze at her hips. Or when she rocks into her so smoothly along with the beat. Or how it sends shivers all over her when Brittany whispers into her ear – she’s not even saying anything risky but God it doesn’t matter.

And even if all of this is for show, Santana’s so deprived of this kind of affection that she doesn’t care – Brittany can use her all night if she wants.

Santana doesn’t begin to notice where her thoughts are taking her until she spots Artie wheeling away.

“He’s leaving,” Santana notes as she turns in Brittany’s embrace.

Brittany’s hands go to rest against the small of Santana’s back, “Do you think he gets the idea?”

Santana smirks and looks up at Brittany, “I think everyone gets the idea.”

A blush starts to bloom as blue eyes dart bashfully away, “Sorry. Was that too much? I was just following your lead like you said.”

“It’s fine. It’s the most action I’ve had in awhile,” Santana jokes.

Brittany gives her a unimpressed look but Santana’s smile only grows because of it.

The music shifts to something slow, old school Elvis. Santana recognizes the instrumental instantly; Maribel and Eddie’s first dance song. Honestly, it’s most couple’s first dance song – apparently you can’t get any more creative than Can’t Help Falling in Love.

She attempts to find her exit, but they’re surrounded by couples now. It would cause way too big of a scene to try and escape, so she goes with her only option. She lets Brittany take the lead and they start to sway.

Santana’s fingers thread at the back of Brittany’s neck while the blonde’s hands fall to Santana’s hips. They do the slow side-to-side move, but the sudden closeness has Santana feeling oddly shy. It’s bringing back memories of school functions and dancing awkwardly with dates she never wanted.

“You really miss it that much?” Brittany asks softly while they sway. “All the hook-ups?”

Santana sputters a laugh, unsure of how to respond, but one look at Brittany has her realizing that the blonde is genuinely asking. Her smile falters and she goes back to looking everywhere but inquisitive blue eyes.

“You gonna shame me for it again?” Santana asks jokingly.

She hates how quickly things between them can feel way too personal for her liking. Even more so, she hates how easy it’s starting to be to want to open up more around the girl.  

“No, I was just curious,” Brittany shrugs. “This probably isn’t what you’re used to doing at a place like this.”

“I’m not usually at places like this.”

“You know what I mean,” Brittany replies. “Parties or clubs or whatever. You wouldn’t be slow dancing with a potential lay. You don’t seem like that kind of girl.”

Santana scoffs playfully, “Well once again, you don’t know me at all. Slow dancing is my jam, it really gets the girls hot and bothered.”

Brittany quirks her brow, “Seriously?”

“Of course not,” Santana chuckles. “I’m usually out of there by the time the slow songs come on. They’re not my style.”

“Knew it.”

“But it’s not horrible,” Santana dismisses as they continue to sway. “I wouldn’t say slow dancing with you is at the top of my list of the worst things I’ve ever had to do.”

Brittany looks surprised, “Oh really?”

“It’s in the Top 5 for sure,” Santana jokes. “But it’s not number one.”

“You’re too kind,” Brittany jokes.

“I try. But hey – you’ve surprisingly got rhythm, Pierce!” Santana compliments. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a dancer.”

Brittany laughs, “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

Santana chuckles, “First the little thing you’ve got for Wheels and now this? I don’t think I can handle anymore surprises for the rest of night.”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “But you’re having fun?”

Santana shrugs, trying to be dismissive but her smile gives her true feelings away. She’s at a fancy place with great music and free alcohol looking fly as hell and one of her missions for the night is to piss off a chauvinistic douchebag – fun is an understatement.

“It’s not the kind of ragers I’m used to,” Santana teases. “But yeah – I’m having fun. Dancing with you is fun.”

Brittany’s face fills with a grin, “Yeah. I think dancing with you is fun too. It’s a bonus that Artie gets a little peeved as well.”

“That’s probably my favorite part,” Santana agrees and they continue dancing for a little while longer.

\\

Santana finds that messing with Artie is child’s play, but it’s oh so satisfying.

Santana and Brittany take turns pretending to whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ear once they get to their assigned table. They find it easy to giggle along with one another when their sweet nothings are really just lame pick up lines that would never work in real life. But they say it in these ramped up seductive voices and that makes it all the more hilarious.

Meanwhile, Artie sits across from them with a sourpuss look on his face.

Maybe they’ve gotten away from the point of all this – that being to make Artie jealous – or maybe it really is working? Whatever it is, Santana can’t find it in her to reel them back in, not when it’s this much fun.

\\

Dinner is served not too long after and Santana’s amazed once again by the spread. There’s giant cuts of filet mignon atop a colorful array of fresh Spring veggies. There’s oysters and huge lobster tails and extravagant towers of shrimp! The organizers clearly spared no expense with the menu and Santana excitedly awaits her dinner as the waitstaff start to come around to top up everyone’s wine glasses.

Santana watches as dishes are set down in front of everyone, all alternating between seafood and steak and the occasional vegetarian option. Everything looks so damn good and she glances next to her, wondering what Brittany will get.

“I ordered the shrimp,” Brittany tells her just as the plate is set down. “I got you the steak. I hope that’s okay? I wasn’t too sure.”

“Classy,” Santana nods as her plate is set down too. The garnishes make it look like artwork and she’s almost too afraid to touch it. “God, this looks so good. You didn’t mention there was free food too. This place is heaven.”

Brittany chuckles as she reaches for her cutlery.  

While everyone eats, there’s quiet chatter amongst the table.

Santana’s so glad that Mike and Tina are around, at least that’s one couple that she doesn’t mind. Most people are pretty pretentious – all I’m so much smarter than you because I know random shit about random shit – and it makes Santana want to roll her eyes so hard but she doesn’t for Brittany’s sake.

Unlike Santana, Brittany gets along well with everyone and somehow sees past the horrible personalities. That’s not too surprising considering how she feels about Artie though.

Then again, maybe Brittany was right about there being a nice guy underneath all that ego because when Artie does finally get to talking to her again – he’s not a dick. They talk excitedly about comics or something and Santana notes the way they both light up.

For once, there’s a glimpse of him being a decent human being and maybe – just maybe – Santana sees what Brittany does.

But he’s not off the hook just yet, not after the way he started off the night. She doesn’t want to rock the boat though, so she quietly eats her dinner and plays the role of perfect fake girlfriend just like she said she would. This night isn’t about her, it’s about Brittany and she’s going to do her best to keep it that way.

\\

A while later, dessert begins to be brought out as a few speeches are given up on stage. The announcer talks about the many prestigious teams in the room and how talented everyone is judging by their high percentages. Most of it goes over Santana’s head, not really interested in how academic decathlon clubs work but what does spark some interest though is when the awards start getting presented.

There’s a kind of anticipation that settles over the room and Santana looks around noting just how many clubs are in attendance. She had no idea academic decathlons were a thing until this year, but to see everyone so on edge as they await the reveal of this year’s winner really puts things into perspective for her.

When Santana glances to her side, she finds that Brittany’s got her eyes squeezed tight and her fingers are crossed on both hands. As she looks around the room, she sees club members look similarly – hoping and praying.

The Brainiacs happen to come in Second Place in the overall thing, but Brittany stands and claps along with everyone else despite things not going her team’s way. Santana watches her and smiles because this girl really is just so pure. Here she is clapping and pumping her fist in the air as the first place team take to the stage. Nothing about it is forced because she’s genuinely happy for them and that amazes Santana.

She didn’t think people like Brittany actually existed and yet there she stands.

\\

The lead up for presenting the award for Most Brilliant Brainiac is much more anticipated.

Santana looks around the room as it seems like everyone’s on the edge of their seat. It’s almost comical, because it’s basically an award for the biggest nerd in the room and these people actually want it.

Still, Santana listens quietly.

She notices Artie fixing his dumb bowtie and checking his teeth in the reflection of his silver spoon as if he already knows what’s coming. She so hopes he doesn’t win just because of that. She doesn’t care who it goes to, she doesn’t care if it’s an even bigger tool than him – if that’s even possible – all she cares about is watching the guy get the biggest reality check known to man.

Suddenly, she’s on the edge of her seat just like everyone else.

“This year the award goes to,” The announcer pauses for dramatic effect.

Santana’s still waiting for the name to be called out, but the spotlight shining directly beside her is answer enough.

“No way!” Brittany beams. She doesn’t know what to do with herself, she just looks from side to side making sure that the spotlight is on the right person. “Me? It’s me?”

“Come on up, Miss Pierce!” The announcer gestures proudly.

Their entire table turns to applaud. Santana notices Mike with the biggest grin on his face as he claps while Tina’s snapping picture after picture for her article.

Brittany’s in awe as she makes her way onto the stage, the crowd roaring with applause as she goes. When she gets to the podium, the man hands her a gold trophy shaped like a brain and then presents her to the room.

“Here she is, folks! This year’s Most Brilliant Brainiac! Give it up for Miss Brittany S. Pierce!”

Before she realizes it, Santana’s on her feet in a second and claps so hard her hands start to sting.

“That’s my girl!” She shouts and pumps her fist in the air.

Brittany must hear her from the stage because she ducks her head bashfully at the shout out, her cheeks going a little pink as she soaks in the applause.

Santana glances over at Artie who barely claps. She rolls her eyes at him, because he yet again shows his true colors. How he flies under the radar is a mystery to her, but Brittany’s not around to hold her back this time.

So she points a threatening finger at him and rubs a little salt in his ego.

“Take that, Professor X! You suck so bad!”

Artie looks a little scandalized, but he keeps his mouth shut as Brittany absorbs the limelight. She looks at her trophy like she can’t believe its hers and Santana swears she sees those pretty blue eyes start to well with tears. This time they’re happy tears though and Santana’s so relieved for that!

A moment later, Brittany’s making her way back to their table with her new trophy in hand.

“Look! It’s so heavy,” Brittany giggles as she shows off the award to Santana.

Santana smiles fondly. Only Brittany could be this proud about being the dorkiest dork in the room. She doesn’t know what it is about the way she looks, the way her eyes light up to match the brilliance of her smile, the way they seem to be even bluer than usual.

All she knows is that she can’t help but pull Brittany in for a deep kiss.

She can feel the way Brittany stiffens in her arms at first before relaxing – the kiss takes her by surprise too, she can only imagine what Brittany’s thinking.

Alarm bells ring but then she feels a cool hand touch her cheek and suddenly everything stops because she’s being kissed back.

Brittany’s kissing her back.

It’s soft and gentle and when Santana pulls away, she’s swears she sees stars.

All Santana’s thinking about is the way Artie spoke to Brittany earlier, how he scolded her like a child. She thinks about Brittany’s parents and how they never truly supported her until recently. She thinks about the stories Brittany’s told about her experiences in high school and her time at MIT. She thinks about how after all of that, Brittany’s still maintained her kindness.

Brittany’s better than her, she’s so much better than everyone here, and she doesn’t even know it.

And maybe Santana’s just really proud of her – that’s why she kissed her? Maybe she’s just really into her whole fake girlfriend role right now? Maybe she’s just super committed and she’s finally matched Brittany’s level of going above and beyond?

That’s got to be the explanation for it, because no way she’ll admit to it being anything else.

“I’m so proud of you,” Santana quickly says. “Way to stick it to those guys.”

Brittany blushes, “I really didn’t expect anyone to vote for me. I hope they’re not mad.”

“Fuck them if they are!” Santana retorts. “You worked so hard for this. If they can’t be supportive of you then they don’t deserve you as a teammate.”

Brittany relaxes upon hearing Santana’s words, “You mean that?”

Santana smiles and nods like it’s simple, “Well yeah. You’re a genius, Britt.”

Brittany grins again and looks down at her trophy bashfully, “I’m also Brilliant.”

“Yeah, that too,” Santana chuckles.

They go to take their seats when they realize everyone’s kind of staring at them still. Santana doesn’t care all that much, Brittany deserves the recognition. She finds a kind of joy in making sure she knows it too.

“Seriously though, congrats,” Santana tells her. “You really earned it.”

Brittany ducks her head before leaning closer and whispers low enough so only Santana can hear. The move makes Santana’s heart suddenly race as she’s reminded of their time on the dancefloor earlier.

“Is that you talking or my fake girlfriend?” Brittany asks.

Santana bites her lip as she ponders that. For the first time, it’s kind of hard to tell. This arrangement is like being on-call; you never know when they have to slip into character so now it’s second nature and maybe it’s finally starting to blur the lines which Santana didn’t think would ever be possible.

But just to be safe she says, “I’m a pretty good actress. Aren’t I?”

Brittany only smirks as they both start to giggle and admire her new trophy while Artie stews in his jealousy.

\\

They spend the rest of the Ball taking pictures with Brittany’s trophy for the school magazine and hitting the dancefloor once again.

Obviously, the dancing is the best part and by now everyone’s got a good buzz going with the amount of booze in the place. It’s surprisingly a good time – one of the best Santana’s had in months and it’s even more surprising that it’s in Brittany’s company.

If you would’ve told her at the start of the semester that this is where she’d be right now, she wouldn’t have believed you at all. Never in a million years would she be caught dead in a place like this, but it’s funny how things change – how relationships evolve.

Just tonight, she walked into this Ball wondering if she even stood a chance up against Brittany’s wrath. She really messed up, she knows that, but all of this is new territory for her. She’s not used to looking out for anyone else other than her family and Puck, but she’s starting to get it now.

If Brittany was anyone else, Santana probably wouldn’t have cared about her hurt feelings the other night. She would’ve let the girl go without a second thought because who has time to put up with the drama, but this relationship has her doing a lot of things she normally wouldn’t.

It’s reintroducing her to things that have been long forgotten and Santana doesn’t really know how to feel about that. It’s drudging up the old Santana; the vulnerable, the gullible, the sensitive one who has no place here now.

It’s a lot more than she signed up for, but she supposes it’s only natural to have those feelings start to resurface again when they’re both so committed to playing their roles perfectly. If anything, it’s a reminder that once upon a time Santana really was perfect girlfriend material.

And tonight, she gets to live out that little memory.

Maybe if her heartbreak didn’t harden her, maybe this is what she’d be like? Maybe she’d actually date a girl like Brittany? Maybe she’d stop selling herself short just like Puck said? Maybe she’d stick around long enough for something real to happen?

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

It always takes Santana by surprise that when she gets to thinking like this, it’s always in the presence of Brittany. This girl; Santana knew being with her would be a challenge but not like this. She can’t hold it against her though, after all this is her idea and really it could be so much worse than what it is.

They don’t really owe each other anything, they’re just pawns in their elaborate games – but here they are dancing the night away without a care in the world and for once things feel fine.

It’s a nice break from all that heaviness from earlier.

And for a moment, Santana doesn’t think it’s all too bad. The whole possibility of being friends with Brittany thing; when it’s like this, it really isn’t the worst thing ever.

She might actually kind of like it.

Other than Puck, Santana doesn’t really have that many people she’s close with. She doesn’t have many people she’d consider friends. For the past two years, maybe even longer, she’s kept people at an arm’s length.

After everything, she’s just not into getting close to anyone anymore. Letting people into her shit sounds like a lot of work and kind of terrifying.

What if they don’t like what they find? What if she’s too much? What if they decide to leave too? What if it changes her again?

It’s too big of a risk. It’s best that she does the leaving instead. It’s the only way she can keep some type of control on things, because no way she’ll let anyone go for a joyride with her feelings again.

She likes to keep her circle small, but being around Brittany starts to make her wonder. What’s the harm in trying?

A thought like that makes her laugh though; that hopefulness is a direct result of hanging around Brittany way too much.

“It’s so hot in here! Why’s it so hot?” Brittany sighs and wipes at her brow with the back of her hand. Her cheeks are flushed and sweat glistens in the hollow of her neck deliciously.

Santana averts her eyes when she realizes she’s staring.

“You’re dancing up a storm, that’s why!” Santana teases.

“Because it’s so much fun!” Brittany does a twirl then starts to sway when she stops. “The dizziness…not so much.”

“Maybe don’t spin around like that?” Santana suggests playfully. “You want to go outside? Get some air?”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Brittany nods but just before she follows after Santana she runs back to the table. “Mike! Mike, watch my trophy!”

Mike drunkenly nods and gives her a thumbs up.

“Thanks! Okay, let’s go,” Brittany tells Santana and leads the way out.

They end up going to the grand steps Santana walked up earlier in the night and take a seat by one of the columns. The air is crisp and refreshing compared to the stuffiness inside and it’s such a relief. They rest their heads back and soak it in.

“You see Artie’s face when I won?” Brittany giggles.

Santana smirks, “Oh yeah. That prick; I was hoping he’d lose. Makes it even better that it was to you.”

“I know I shouldn’t think it but,” Brittany pauses to take in a deep breath before letting it out in a sigh. “I’m glad he lost too. Maybe it’ll bring him down a notch.”

Santana chuckles, “Hopefully it’ll bring him down a few notches. That guy is a piece of work. I still can’t believe you’re into him.”

Brittany ducks her head and sighs again as they fall into a comfortable silence.

Even if Brittany doesn’t show it, Santana can feel something’s gone unsaid.

They haven’t talked about the kiss from earlier, but maybe there’s nothing that they need to talk about? They’re out in public, it goes without saying that they have to do what normal couples would – like kiss when your girlfriend wins an award.

Why would they need to talk about it? It’s not like it was the first time they’ve ever done that. Then again, when Santana gets to thinking – the last time was New Year’s Eve.

Maybe Santana’s just overthinking it all? This is why she doesn’t do relationships or feelings – real or not! They’re confusing and annoying and she doesn’t want it.

God, she wishes she was on Brittany’s level of tipsy. That would make things so much easier!

“You know when we were talking before, you said that we’ve got too much in common,” Brittany mentions awhile later. She keeps her eyes turned up to the sky as she asks, “What’d you mean by that?”

The question takes Santana by surprise as she tries to remember their conversation from earlier. When she does, she wishes that she didn’t. It’s not a subject she loves talking about, nor does she love revisiting its memories, but for some odd reason she can feel her safeguard wavering.

“I guess I was in your place once with Artie,” Santana replies. “Sort of.”

“You were into him too?”

Santana chuckles at the joke, “No way. I mean, I fell for someone I shouldn’t have.”

“What happened?”

Santana pauses, wondering if she wants to go down this road. The only other person she’s ever talked about all this to is Puck and that’s only because he was partly involved. She’s done her best to bury every feeling, every memory, but there’s something about Brittany that has Santana opening up just a little more.

“There was a girl a long time ago,” Santana finds herself saying before glancing Brittany’s way. “The one from the picture in my room back in Lima.”

Brittany nods and quietly encourages her to continue.

“She was my best friend growing up,” Santana says. “The only one who ever understood me. We were close, closer than friends should be. Eventually, I wanted to be more – make things official.”

“You?” Brittany asks in disbelief.

“I know, shocking,” Santana jokes through a sad smile. “She said she wanted it too, but she was afraid. She wanted to keep things hidden, keep us hidden, and I…I loved her so I followed along.”

Santana feels her chest tighten with that long-forgotten pain, but then Brittany’s hand finds hers. She squeezes softly at her hand and suddenly the feeling isn’t so bad.

“She kept saying one day it’ll be different,” Santana goes on. “One day we won’t have to hide, one day we’d just run off together, but until then we had to pretend. It sounded like a good plan and I felt so strongly about her, so I waited. I watched her get into relationships with guy after guy just to keep people off of our scent, off of her scent.”

“The older we got, the further in the closest she went. It was like she forget that it was all a cover and the life she was living was a lie.”

Brittany nods sympathetically.

“I ended up coming out midway through our Junior year,” Santana says. “I thought that maybe if I went first then she’d see that it was okay, but it kind of had the opposite effect. Something happened, maybe her parents divorce or something else? I don’t know, but she changed and not in a good way. I was out and proud but it was hard when the girl I loved wasn’t. It kind of felt pointless but I kept waiting for her.”

“By Senior year, I started to lose hope. I guess she did too because it stopped being about us running off together. Instead it was only her doing the running,” Santana continues. “While everyone was making their big plans for college, she was a mystery.”  

She starts to feel that annoying lump in her throat forming and swallows it back.

“All I knew was that she was getting out of Lima by any means necessary,” She says with a deep sigh. “She was so closed off though, spiraling even. I had no idea what her plans were anymore. No one did. I just didn’t think that it involved stealing my shot at a scholarship.”

“Wait, what?” Brittany frowns. “What scholarship?”

“My school had this partnership with Harvard,” Santana answers half-heartedly. “An alumni or whatever is a big wig there and has this scholarship aimed at students with extraordinary promise in law. It’s such a waste, really. No one usually goes for it because no one ever dreams of getting out of there nor would they dare go to law school, but getting out of Lima was always our dream. With her family background, she could get in easy but me? It was a little harder. That scholarship was my only shot and she took it.”

“How’d she do that?”

Santana shrugs, “It’s always been a mystery. Out of the entire school, we were the only ones who even cared enough to look into it. We agreed before that with my GPA and personal goals that I’d have the better chance of getting it, but that was before things changed. It’s no coincidence that she got in and not me. I ticked every box when it came to the type of candidate they were looking for.”

“You couldn’t tell the organizers about it?” Brittany asks. “Have them kick her out or something?”

Santana sighs, “I couldn’t do that to her.”

“Why not? Santana, that’s seriously unfair. This is your education, something you’re so passionate about.”

“I know,” Santana answers dejectedly. “Believe me, I know. But, I was young and in love and stupid. I still had hope for some reason, hope that she’d snap out of it? I knew she took her parents divorce really hard and things had changed for her in terms of getting into Harvard with their help. Maybe she needed the scholarship more than me?”

“Even so, that’s not the way to go about it. That’s not fair to you.”

“True,” Santana nods. “But a part of me figured that maybe once she got in and got settled, she’d be okay? Maybe we’d be okay again. Maybe getting out of Lima was something she needed way more than I did? I guess I was wrong though.”

Brittany looks to Santana apologetically but Santana hates that look. She hates being seen as anything but confident and sure and unwavering.

“See? Told you I’m not selfish,” Santana tries to joke to ease the tension.

It doesn’t really change the way Brittany watches her though.

“Yeah, I guess you were right.”

“Surprise,” Santana lets out a weak chuckle as she averts her gaze. “It sure did backfire though. Huh?”

“Have you heard from her since?” Brittany asks. “Did she ever apologize?”

“Hell no,” Santana tries to laugh off the pain. “She didn’t even stick around for our graduation ceremony. She just packed up and left. No goodbye or anything.”

“Wow,” Brittany shakes her head. “How could someone who’s supposed to care about you hurt you like that?”

Santana finds herself smirking as she looks to Brittany. She has no idea she’s in the same sort of situation with Artie. It’s always easier making sense of things when it isn’t your problem though she supposes.

“Anyway, it’s whatever,” Santana waves off. “It’s been two years and I still wonder why the hell I gave up a Harvard education for a girl. Love makes you do dumb shit, it’s the worst.”

Brittany goes to squeeze Santana’s hand again, “I’m so sorry, Santana.”

Santana keeps on her brave face, “It’s fine.”

“It isn’t.”

Santana knows, but she just shrugs. What’s the point of feeling sorry for herself now?

“I guess what I was meaning earlier is that,” Santana continues. “Maybe this thing between you and Artie; it’s better for you in the long run if you spare yourself the heartache and accept that people change. Sometimes it’s for the worst and you can’t do a thing about it. It is what it is, you know? You can wait but it’s only wasting your time in the end – take it from me.”

Brittany nods and they both rest back against the column again, sitting in each other’s company in silence. It’s like Brittany’s taking in all that Santana has said while Santana attempts to pack up all those little memories she’s just drudged up and stuff them away.

“People change for the better too though,” Brittany mentions quietly. “Sometimes all that patience and time you put into waiting ends up being worth it.”

“Maybe,” Santana nods. “I just don’t know how to be that optimistic anymore. I’m too tired.”

“I get that,” Brittany replies and leans her head against Santana’s.

Santana finds herself leaning against Brittany too, relaxing against each other in a peaceful balance. Another comfortable silence settles over them and Santana’s thankful for it. After opening up to Brittany, she doesn’t think she can handle anymore of these heart to hearts.

Another reason she keeps to herself, talking about feelings is exhausting.

“You know…I didn’t say it before because I was still kind of mad at you,” Brittany mentions softly. “But I’m glad you changed your mind about tonight. I’m glad you’re here.”

Santana smirks, feeling a giddiness flutter in her chest that chases off the remaining heaviness there. “Yeah well, picturing you suffer here all alone with these losers wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be. Thought I’d come see it for myself.”

Brittany snickers and pokes lightly at Santana’s side.

“Sounds like you might be taking a liking to me,” Brittany teases.

Santana scoffs playfully, “God no.”

“I mean, if you really wanted me to suffer you could’ve worn something that would make you look a little less…”

Santana glances over to find Brittany stumbling on the right word. The hesitance makes her smirk.

“Hot? You were going to say hot.”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “I wasn’t.”

“Sure,” Santana teases. “You can admit it, Britt-Britt. You think I look fine as hell.”

Brittany shakes her head although she begins to blush. “You always this full of yourself?”

“You should know the answer to that by now,” Santana quips as she rises to stand. She strikes a sexy pose while Brittany continues to sit before her. “Come on. Would you really rather I turn up here looking a hot mess? I wouldn’t be doing a very good job of being arm candy.”

Brittany’s eyes rake up Santana’s body, taking in all her perfection. Just like the powers of her cheerleading skirt, Santana’s dress works wonders all the same.

“I guess not,” Brittany admits.

Santana grins, “That’s what I thought.”

“But you’re not just arm candy to me,” Brittany teases sweetly.

Santana instantly rolls her eyes and holds out her hand to Brittany, “Let’s get back in there. I think it’s time for another drink. I can still taste your Chapstick from earlier.”

Brittany giggles as Santana pulls her up, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

[kumeko]

A/N: For the @fe3hmonthly (on twitter) Goddess Messenger zine! I wanted to write a smattering of pairings I haven’t explored as much as I’d like.

…

…

…

…

i.

Everywhere Claude looked, it was white. The grounds, the roofs, even the sky were this dreary shade of eggshell, as though even nature couldn’t muster up any energy. It was Great Tree Moon, the starting of spring, and yet Fódlan still felt like it was in the throes of winter. He shouldn’t have been surprised; even his textbooks had told him that Fódlan’s winters lasted longer, were colder, and were gloomier than anything he’d experienced in Almyra.

Still, it was one thing to read about it, another to experience it. Claude laced his hands behind his head as he strolled through the interconnecting passages between the academy buildings. All in all, it wouldn’t have been too bad if the buildings were just a little festive. At this point, Almyra was in the middle of spring preparations, the buildings decorated in bright papers and the people in even brighter clothes. The academy? Even the new year decorations were down now, leaving this depressing sight.

Claude hadn’t expected to feel homesick over something as trivial as this. He hadn’t expected to feel homesick at all.

“Hey, Claude!” Hilda waved as she fell in step beside him. Her pink hair bobbed as she walked. Clasping her hands behind her back, she leaned forward and asked, “So, what’s your take on the new professor?”

“Byleth?” Claude raised a brow, looking at his right-hand woman. Another thing he hadn’t expected: finding a partner in Hilda. Her slothful attitude hid a brilliant mind, one almost on par with his for mischief making, and he had plans.

“Who else?” Hilda laughed, shaking her head. “Gosh, you’re so silly sometimes.”

He didn’t bother to reply to that. Instead he hummed thoughtfully as he considered her question. “Byleth…huh…”

“I mean, she must have really impressed you if you asked her to be our teacher.” Hilda straightened up. Tapping her chin, she mused, “I don’t think I could handle Hanneman-levels of strictness. It’d be nice if she was relaxed like Manuela.”

“Neither, I think.” Claude shrugged. Even now he remembered the ease with which she’d protected Edelgard, her confidence as she fought—it put her head and shoulders above the other two teachers. Add in her ridiculously blank face and he had found entertainment for the rest of the year. “She’s real quick on her feet. Strong too. And unlike Hanneman and Manuela, she has a lot of experience.”

A mercenary who’d seen the continent, who’d travelled from town to town, untouched by the church…part of him wondered just what change she could bring to the academy. To his classmates. To himself. What was her view on things?

“Well, that’s good and all, but…” Hilda groaned. Her long pigtails brushed against him as she hunched over. “She’s totally going to give us a lot of work.”

“Probably,” Claude agreed, patting Hilda on the back. “Especially considering the Battle of Eagle and Lion are coming up. I wonder if she’ll be ready for it.”

Hilda groaned again, leaning against him. He wrapped an arm around her to steady her as she dramatically sighed. “You should have just let us take Manuela.”

“Nah, Teach is perfect for us. Trust me.” Their pace was slower now, his arm still wrapped around Hilda’s waist. Oddly, he didn’t mind. “Though….”

“Though?” Hilda glanced up at him, raising a brow. He didn’t miss the spark of interest in her eyes.

“Well, maybe we could give her a test of our own.” Claude grinned, eyeing the endless snow. This would solve both of his problems. “Something to make sure she’s ready for the Battle of Eagle and Lion, and maybe have a little fun while we’re at it.”

Hilda furrowed her brow, her expression distrustful. “Fun?”

“Back in…” Claude caught himself. “Back at home, my family has this fun tradition every spring. We throw colourful powders at each other.”

Her distrust turned into confusion. “You threw powderat each other?”

“Well, we usually wait till it’s a little warmer too. Trust me, it’s better than it sounds. It’s kinda like a free-for-all tag.” Claude shrugged. If there was one good thing about the border situation with Almyra, it was that no one in Fódlan knew what he was describing. As far as they were concerned, he was just describing an event from a backwater town. “We’ll make it a mock battle. Maybe we could do it with snowballs? Or fill thin waterskins with coloured water?”

The more he spoke, the more enamoured with the idea he became. Their class, just barely acquainted, could properly learn about each other. More importantly, it’d be the first Almyran thing he’d done in a year and he tried to hide his rising enthusiasm. “Maybe it can be all of us against Teach.”

Hilda, however, was on the opposite side of the spectrum. She grimaced. “That sounds like a lotta work.”

“Just a little.” When she still shot him a baleful stare, he tightened his grip on her waist and rested his head on her chin. “Come on, it’ll be fun. You’ll like it. Besides…you can always rope in the others to do the work.”

“I’d do that anyways,” she replied bluntly, though she didn’t pull away or object further.

Claude chuckled. He should have expected that answer. “Fine, you can watch during the game?”

“Let’s just say you owe me one,” Hilda replied, smiling cunningly as she pulled out of his arms.

“Blackmail?” He clutched his heart. “To think you’d stoop so low.”

“Please, like you wouldn’t do the same to me,” Hilda retorted before breaking into laughter.

“True.” Claude shrugged. There was no point in denying it. “Let’s see if Anna’s willing to cut us a deal on some supplies.”

Hilda snorted, hooking an arm through his. “Like she’d let you have a penny.”

“Oh, she’ll give me more.” When Hilda turned to him, bemused, Claude winked. “Blackmail material, remember?”

ii.

The library was quiet. Not in the way Claude was used to, where you could still hear rustling paper and erasers hitting the floor, or the soft groans of students as they tried to finish exams. No, this was the silence of the uninhabited, where only the wind blowing in through the cracks broke the silence.

It had been a long five years since the library had last been used. Holding up his lamp, Claude slowly slung it from side to side, checking the cobweb-covered shelves for intruders. Not even a rat scurried out of his sight. “I guess I can’t tease Lysithea about it now.”

Lorenz didn’t reply as he checked the other half of the dark library. The light flickered, casting shadows on his face and Claude couldn’t read his expression.

Curious, Claude tried again. “Even I feel like a ghost can pop out at any moment.”

“Yes,” Lorenz muttered non-committedly, falling in step with Claude as they exited the room. Everything about him was unnaturally stiff, from his shoulders to the way he jerked at every sound. Grinning, Claude leaned closer and blew in his ear.

Lorenz yelped, jumping. Covering his ear, he glared at Claude. “What is wrong with you?”

“Just thought you needed some help relaxing.” Claude held his hands up in surrender. He hadn’t expected this much of a reaction. “Scared?”

“It is not fear.” Lorenz rubbed his arm, looking away. “It’s just…”

They were passing the courtyard now. Half it was still covered in rubble. “It’s not?” he asked as he stepped over a pothole.

“This place…it’s a graveyard,” Lorenz whispered.

“Oh.” There really wasn’t anything else he could say to that. It was. He hadn’t thought of it that way, but it was.

They rounded the corner to the great hall, where they’d temporarily set up the patrol camp. It was the best place to keep an eye on everything. Lorenz added, “You don’t think my father…our lands and people, will end up like this?”

“What’re you talking about?” Baffled, Claude raised a brow. “We’re fighting this war to prevent that.”

“I know, I know, it is just…the Empire will know my father’s decisions. If we fail…” Lorenz gestured around them. “They will not let us off lightly. Everything could disappear.”

“Oh.” Maybe he should have expected this, considering how they were planning to visit Lord Gloucester. Lorenz’s homeland straddled the border of the battlefield, and while his father had managed to balance its duties to the Leicester Alliance with treaties to the Empire, it couldn’t last much longer.

In the dark night, it was easy for old fears to resurface. They were surrounded by ghosts and the silence only made them louder. Even the few merchants that had returned didn’t make enough sound to echo through the great hall.

Lorenz almost seemed to shrink into himself. “I know it is a little late to say all of this.”

Claude studied Lorenz, taking note of how pale he looked in the faint light and how his fingers shook as he held the lantern. If Lorenz couldn’t convince himself, how could he convince his father? Donning a reassuring smile, he shook his head. “It’ll work out.”

While he didn’t pull away, Lorenz looked at him doubtfully. “How?”

“Because we’re here!” Claude squeezed Lorenz’s shoulder, winking. “A Reigan and a Gloucester? You think anyone can stand up to this combo?”

“I…” Lorenz bit his lip as he slowly nodded, looking utterly unconvinced. “I suppose.”

This wasn’t the Lorenz he was used to; he hadn’t even considered it a chance to best him. Claude sat down on a bench as they exited Great Hall and patted the spot beside him. “Come on. Sit.”

“We haven’t finished our patrol,” Lorenz pointed out, eyeing the bench.

“We can have a little break.” He set down the lantern at his feet. “Come on, it won’t harm us.”

“Until we’re attacked.” Despite his grumbling, Lorenz sat down beside him.

“You can keep me warm till then.” Claude slung his arm around Lorenz. He squawked, his ears a bright red, but he didn’t move away.

As usual, a Lone Moon night was a chilly one. On nights like this in Almyra, Claude’s family would gather, telling stories as they warded off the cold. Winter’s claws desperately dug into spring, but a warm night was enough to chase it away.

“What’re you looking forward to?” Claude asked, staring at the lantern. It didn’t take much imagination to see a bigger flame in its stead, to imagine blankets and hot drinks in their hands. In the last several years, he had learned how to sneak in his customs into life, to keep his Almyran memories alive.

“What do you mean?” Lorenz asked, hesitantly leaning closer.

Claude laughed, pulling him close enough so Lorenz could lean on his shoulder comfortably. This time there wasn’t even a squeak, though Lorenz’s ears were an even darker red. “Well, we’re going to your home, right? Tell me about it.”

He didn’t so much see Lorenz’s frown as much as he felt it. “I suspect your intentions.”

“Completely honest and pure,” he replied easily. Resting his chin on Lorenz’s head, he added, “Just think of it as a way to pass the time.”

For a long moment, Lorenz was silent. Then, slowly, he replied, “There’s a rose garden that I’ve hand-planted. It won’t be much in the spring but come summer…you won’t find bigger blooms anywhere else.”

Claude hummed encouragingly, letting Lorenz’s voice chase away the ghosts.

iii.

Byleth’s hand was in his. There were many things Khalid could have been focusing on, like the fact that they were strolling through an Almyran marketplace together. After the war, he hadn’t thought it’d only take a year for him to return to her side, that he’d make it all the way to king so quickly. Absence didn’t only make the heart fonder, it seemed, but his ambitions stronger too.

Or he could focus on what he was saying. Ever since she’d rode into Almyra’s capital, Khalid had taken it onto himself to guide her through his home. Everything was new to her, and while her expression was still hard to read, it wasn’t impossible anymore. Her eyes widened at the brightly coloured stalls, her lips parted at the scent of sizzling meat and fried vegetables, and her grip tightened every time some new, strange sight caught her attention.

Yet, it was hard to care about anything except for the fact that she was here, next to him, her fingers intertwined in his. He wasn’t even sure what he was saying right now, his normally fast mind frozen as he drank in the sight of her. Her hand was just as rough as he’d remembered. Even months as the ruler of Fódlan hadn’t changed that. Calluses and small cuts littered her palm, and his thumb unconsciously brushed a scar on her thumb.

“Why are there so many?” Byleth asked.

“Because—” Khalid stared at her blankly before realizing he had no idea what she was talking about. Or even where they were. At some point they’d passed through the market and reached the start of the residential section. “…sorry, so many what?”

Byleth glanced at him curiously. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he replied immediately, squeezing her hand. “The exact opposite.”

She raised a brow, not buying it for a second. Serious as she was, she more often than not saw right through him and Khalid wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Especially when she was still a mystery to him, one he had yet to unravel. He’d probably spend the rest of his life figuring her out.

He oddly enough didn’t mind.

“The kites,” Byleth finally asked, pointing above them. “There weren’t nearly as many yesterday.”

He followed her hand to the bright blue sky, speckled with dozens of colourful kites. There had been a few in the marketplace as well, but now that they were near the homes, the kites were everywhere. Children laughed and shouted as they stood on the flat rooftops, tugging the strings of their kites as they tried not to tangle one another. Their parents kept a watchful eye, ensuring no one fell off as they played along as well.

Khalid had been so busy planning everything, he’d actually forgotten that spring started today. For once, he wasn’t going to spend it in the cold snows of Fódlan, or their dreary hallways. He wouldn’t have to make up a story on old family customs as he convinced his fellow deer to bring his traditions to life and ease his homesickness a little.

No, it was all right here in front of him.

And yet, he couldn’t help but turn to Byleth. It was the first time he’d seen kites dance in several years and all he wanted to see was her expression as she studied their ribbon tails.

“It’s to celebrate spring,” Khalid replied softly, watching her quiet awe. “Nothing as stuffy as Fódlan’s customs.”

“It is different,” she agreed, turning her head slightly to follow a bright red one as it swooped through the air.

“It’s more fun to join in than to watch.” He let go of her hand, scanning their surroundings for a vendor. They weren’t hard to find; almost every shop was selling kites today.

The closest vendor held out two kites, one teal green and the other golden them. Shaking them, he called out, “For you and your consort, Badshah.”

His people were nosy busybodies. Khalid missed the anonymity of his youth, a time when no one cared about who he was or where he went. Still, he was the king now. It wasn’t surprising they were all watching him now.

“I’ll send payment after,” he replied, resisting the urge to sigh as he gently grabbed the two kites.

“No, there is no need—”

“I’m not that cheap,” Khalid replied, grinning as he returned to Byleth’s side. She cocked her head curiously at the kites. “Now let’s—”

“You can fly them here, Badshah!”

Khalid did sigh now. Busybodies, the entire lot of them. Oh well, it was a nice spring day, with a constant, gentle breeze, and Byleth was at his side. He’d save the complaints for later.

The offered roof was two stories off the ground. From here, he could make out the maze of buildings that made the capital, the rooftops he used to dash across as a mischievous child. Byleth brushed back a stray lock as the wind blew. “We fly them up here?”

“Yeah, best spot in the city is one of these rooftops.” Khalid grinned as he handed her the teal kite. Busying himself with unwinding thread for his kite, he added. “There’s a lot of kites here, so you’ll have to keep a tight hold of yours.”

“Why kites?” Byleth stared at her kite, rotating it in her hands. Noticing what he was doing, she imitated him and started to unravel her thread.

“They’re colourful? Fun?” Khalid shrugged. Almost all of his childhood was filled with mundane things that amounted to just cause. He’d spent so much time looking at Fódlan, that he’d never really considered Almyra. Maybe it was time he changed that.

Byleth held her kite awkwardly in one hand, her string in the other. Tossing the kite in the air, she watched as it immediately crashed in front of her. “Huh.”

Immediately, Khalid burst into laughter. “What was that?”

“Flying a kite,” Byleth replied evenly, picking up the kite. Once more, she tossed it in the air. Once more, it crashed right in front of her.

It was even funnier the second time and Khalid wrapped his arms around his belly as he guffawed. “That’s not flying.”

“How do you do it?” she asked, giving him a baleful look.

“You’ve never flown a kite?” He straightened slightly, rubbing the tears out of his eyes.

“No.” Byleth turned the kite in her hands one more time, but her bemused expression didn’t change.

“I don’t know how you always manage to surprise me.” Khalid shook his head, still laughing as he put down his kite and picked up hers. He held it up, waiting for the wind to push against it. Once it did, he grabbed the line, slowly releasing it into the air. As he moved toward Byleth, he released more and more wire, sending the kite high into the sky. “There you go, one flying kite.”

Byleth scrunched her nose as she observed. “I see.”

Unable to help himself, he broke into laughter. “You don’t have to concentrate that hard. It’s easy.”

Her expression didn’t change as she gingerly took the kite. She looked like a wooden doll, square shoulders, tense arms, stony expression as she glared up at the kite, daring it to fall.

“Seriously?” Khalid snorted. There’d come a day when Byleth ceased to either impress him or amuse him, but it wouldn’t be today. “Here, let me show you.”

Standing behind her, he pressed his palms on her shoulders and forced them down. “Relax.” He leaned forward now, his dark hair mixing with her green locks as he guided her arms into a more neutral position. “The wind does most of the work, you just have to guide it.”

“This is harder than it looks,” Byleth muttered, still looking like the kite had personally wronged her.

“Only for you.” Khalid grinned, tugging on the string slightly so the kite swooped. “If you get really good at it, you can even cut other kite strings with your kite.”

Byleth frowned. “Why would you do that?”

“Kite battles. Though, with your stance, you’ll lose every time. Didn’t think you could be bad at something.” Khalid sighed blissfully, feeling utterly content and warm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so complete, without something he needed to strive for, without pushing for yet another destination. They could just stay here for the rest of their lives. “You know, I really missed this in Fódlan.”

Byleth didn’t say anything, but he could feel her lean back into him, encouraging him to continue.

“I didn’t think I’d get homesick of all things.” Khalid chuckled, feeling soft at the memories over the years. “I’d find excuses to worm in traditions into whatever we were doing.”

Byleth stiffened slightly. “Is that why you attacked me with coloured water back then?”

“That…yeah.” Khalid had almost forgotten about that incident—it’d been almost six years ago for him, but for Byleth it had only been last year. “You had fun.”

“Fun…” she trailed off doubtfully.

“Well, everyone else did at least.” Khalid grinned. “The actual festival’s going to come up in a few weeks—you can see what the real thing’s like. That is, if you aren’t homesick by then.”

“…I don’t think I’ll be,” Byleth replied easily.

Somehow, that answer didn’t surprise him. “I bet you’ve never felt homesick, huh?”

“No, I have.” Byleth tugged on the kite string, pulling it lower before releasing it back up. “When you were gone.”

Of all the answers he’d expected, that wasn’t one of them. His voice cracked. “Did you now?”

“Yeah.” Byleth concentrated on the kite, as though this were just an idle observation, as though she hadn’t said anything important.

Khalid wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her neck. Despite how stoic she was, she saw everything so clearly. Suddenly, everything clicked into place for him—he’d been feeling homesick too. It didn’t matter if he was in Almyra or in Fódlan, the sights around him meant nothing if she wasn’t by his side. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Byleth hummed, pressing her cheek on his head. “Me too.”

[nerdypanda3126]

City of Love

Happy Valentine's Day and happy birthday @crescent-woods! I'm your @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Secret Admirer! 😁

The prompt that I chose was: "They both host foreign exchange students who are dating, and end up getting dragged along on their dates and fall in LoOoOve"

Or rather, that prompt chose me because this thing took off and ran with me trailing along behind and hoping I can keep up 😅 I hope you like it!

As a side note: because there's a bit of a language barrier, there will be minimal French used throughout with definitions provided in the end notes, but the characters are speaking English unless otherwise mentioned. 

Read on Ao3 

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Marinette paced by the door of her apartment, waiting for her new roommate to arrive. She had offered to go to the airport to pick her up, but the woman—Tikki, that was her name—had insisted she could find her own way. Marinette was clutching her phone, waiting for the inevitable call. Paris was confusing, after all, for those not familiar with it, and it was so easy to get lost, and what if she couldn’t make it? 

Just as she was starting to bite her fingernails, there was a knock at her door and Marinette ran to it, flinging it open to find a small woman—shorter than Marinette, even, which was quite a feat—in a bright red sundress with black polka dots and a huge sun hat big enough that the brim flopped over her face. When the sun hat tipped up, Tikki had gorgeous, wide blue eyes, and a black pixie fringe with red feathery highlights peeking out.

“Marinette?” Tikki asked, out of breath from carrying her bags up the many stairs to the apartment. Marinette nodded and Tikki squealed, dropping her bags to the floor, all fatigue seemingly forgotten as she swept Marinette up into a hug. She smelled like something sweet, although Marinette couldn’t place it. Some sort of pastry, maybe? She started yammering in rushed English, her sprawling American accent making some of the words run together in Marinette’s ears.  

“I just know we’re going to be the best of friends! I’m so glad I made it, those streets are so windy, you know, windy, like—” she made a motion with her hand, like a snake, back and forth—“but there was this nice man who pointed me in the right direction and—oh, désolée!” When she slipped into French, the tiniest hint of her accent remained. “J’ai oublié, this is supposed to be immersive, n’est-ce pas?” 

Marinette was taken aback, but smiled at the mashup of language. “C’est vrai,” she agreed, “but English is fine for now.” She stooped to grab Tikki’s bags for her, but Tikki smacked Marinette’s hand away and picked everything back up herself. Marinette almost giggled at the ridiculous contrast between the tiny woman and the wealth of luggage she’d brought. Tikki was stronger than she looked, though, because the weight didn’t seem to bother her a bit. 

“Your room is this way,” Marinette said, gesturing as she walked, intending for Tikki to follow her. On the way, she pointed out the kitchen and the bathroom they’d share. Tikki ooh’ed and aah’ed enthusiastically at everything, then squealed again when they got to the room Marinette had laid out for her and instantly dumped her bags on the bed and opened the curtains to let the sunlight stream in. 

In the smaller space, the scent surrounding Tikki was more concentrated and Marinette finally placed it. Cookies. Tikki smelled like chocolate chip cookies. It pulled Marinette back to living above the bakery with her parents. How was she the one that was homesick? Tikki was an entire ocean away from her family and would be for the next few months. 

Although Marinette's homesickness was rather the point of her signing up to host a foreign exchange student for the fall semester. She'd spent the spring semester looking for busy places to go so she could draw or study; her apartment was too quiet when she was used to living above a bustling bakery and with her parents. But it was her first year at University and she was determined to make it work. When she pulled herself out of her thoughts, Tikki was still looking out the window with absolute awe written across her delicate features. She started when she noticed Marinette watching her.

“Everything is so pretty here!” she gushed. “How do you say it? Jolly?” 

“Joli,” Marinette corrected kindly, emphasizing the ‘ee’ sound at the end.

“Right, c’est trés joli.” Tikki repeated carefully with a flounce of her hands. “I want to see absolutely everything.” 

Marinette did giggle at that. She supposed Paris was pretty, when it wasn’t something you saw every day. Tikki’s enthusiasm was infectious. 

“I was planning to take you out to lunch, if you wanted to go? There’s this little place—”

Tikki flopped her sun hat down on the bed and unzipped one of the smaller bags to pull out a crossbody purse and a pair of black flats. She ruffled the short ends of her hair, fluffing them on top where they’d gotten flattened by her hat, unfolded a pair of sunglasses and set them on top of her head like a headband, and grinned at Marinette. 

“Allons-y!”

***

Luka tapped his foot along with the music in his earbuds as he waited for the exchange student he’d be hosting to get off the plane. No thanks to Juleka, he had a picture to go off of and that was it. Although he assumed this guy had a picture of Luka and would be looking for him, too. 

He flicked through his phone absent-mindedly, keeping one eye on the gate. Juleka had been texting him the entire time, asking questions he couldn’t answer and telling him to be nice. This was all her idea; quite frankly he was a bit anxious about the whole thing. 

He was expected to chauffeur this guy around the city and show him all the French culture and, as Juleka had so kindly pointed out, “It’s not like you have anything else going on.”

“You need to make friends,” she’d wheedled near the end of the spring semester, shoving the brochure in his face.

“Friends that are forced to hang out with me and then leave after a semester? Yeah, sounds awesome.” He’d ripped the brochure out of her hands and thrown it back at her, but she didn’t give up. 

“Come on, all you do is go to that stupid club and whine about not being in a band yet! You should be breaking out of your shell, isn’t that what Uni is all about?”

“I don’t have a shell,” he’d muttered as he stuck his earbuds in. Juleka had rolled her eyes at him, but picked the brochure up from the floor and left it on top of his music theory book. She’d given him a pointed look as she flounced out the door. 

And then she went and signed herself up as a host for the fall semester anyways without telling him, somehow making it his job to pick their new roommate up from the airport. “Because you’re the one with the motorcycle,” Juleka had reasoned. And of course he had to stay in Luka’s room with him, because “he’s a guy, and so are you.” 

Whatever. It was one semester. How bad could it be? 

The guy who matched the picture ended up being the last one off the plane, and Luka wrapped his earbuds around his phone before stashing it in his pocket. As Luka’s new roommate strolled up, he had one bag on his shoulder, one rolling behind him, as if he were on vacation instead of about to stay in someone else’s home for the next few months. He was a head shorter than Luka, with russet skin and sleek black hair, pulled back into a small ponytail at the nape of his neck. He took one look at Luka, adjusted his bag on his shoulder, and walked towards the airport door. 

It took Luka a second to process what had happened before he was jogging after a great view of the guy’s shoulders straining against his teal T-shirt. What the hell was his problem? 

“Hé! Attendez,” Luka grabbed at his backpack and the guy turned with an unamused frown deepening by the second. “Uh, salut?” Luka stuck his hand out for a handshake, but deep brown eyes underneath heavy black brows just flashed down to Luka’s hand, then back up to his face. 

“Anglais?” he asked, drawing out his ‘s’ the slightest amount. Luka nodded. “Cool. Look, I’m only here because my girlfriend had her heart set on ‘Paris,’ okay?” He rolled his eyes as he made air quotes and pronounced it “Pari.” He shrugged, adjusting his bag on his shoulder again in the same movement. “I’m not here to make friends, I couldn’t care less about discovering your culture, and I don’t plan on being around much. So, thanks, but no thanks, you know?” 

The way he was pronouncing his “th” as a soft “t” and the subtle lilt to his voice, added to the consistently drawn out sibilants gave him a serpentine accent that made Luka pause before he realized what he’d actually said. 

“Your girlfriend?” How was it that this guy had just shown up in the country—with a bad attitude, no less—and already had a girlfriend? A scowl started to pinch Luka’s face although he had little motivation to stop himself. No way he could be friends with this smug little shit.     

Said smug little shit nodded, although his shoulders shrugged along with the movement, making him look like he was a cobra assessing whether to strike or not. “Tikki. We’ve been long-distance for a while. Pen pals, you know? Decided to come here, meet up, see the sights. She’s a bit of a Francophile, you know what I mean?” 

Luka blinked at him. He’d joined a foreign exchange program, flown who knew how many miles, would be staying away from home for months… for a girl? He hadn’t met yet? Was he insane? He shook his head in sympathy and shoved his hands in his pockets. “All right, well I’m Luka.” 

“Yeah, I gathered. Are you gonna show me the way to your place, or what?” He turned again and started back for the door. This time Luka was able to keep in step with him. 

“You got a name?” Luka asked, only slightly irritated by his apparent dismissal. 

“Not a French one. How about you just decide on something and I’ll answer to whatever.” 

“How about ‘ass’?” Luka grumbled. 

“What was that?” 

“Sass. I said ‘Sass,’” Luka amended quickly. 

He stopped again and leveled a look at Luka, narrowing his eyes to little more than dangerous slits. “Weird, but sure,” he said finally, adjusting his grip on his bag again. “So are we walking or what?”

Luka dug his keys out of his pocket and flashed the lights on his bike. It was an older model Yamaha; sporty, reliable, slim enough to wind through the narrow streets of Paris on deliveries, with an extra seat behind the driver for the times Juleka needed a ride. He’d bought it used and kept good care of it, other than the fading midnight-blue paint job. And the brakes. And the sputter it made when it started up. He'd meant to get that into the shop sometime soon. 

For the first time, Sass cracked a smile. “Now that I can work with.”

Translations:

désolée: sorry

J’ai oublié: I forgot

n’est-ce pas: is it not

C’est vrai: it is true (that's right)

Joli: pretty

c’est trés joli: it's very pretty

Allons-y: let's go

Hé! Attendez: Hey! Wait

salut: hi

Anglais: English

[ashtheshortstack]

beautiful disaster - ch 1

Rating: M Ship: Kyoru Chapter 1/5: “Do you wanna hang out?”

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Learning intimacy, Virgin Dorks, Post-Curse, Manga/Anime Spoilers 

Graduation was fast approaching, it seemed. Though it was still a few months away, Kyo couldn’t help but want to hang onto these memories of high school. Life would be completely different soon. Not in the way Kyo had originally suspected, of course. For so many years… he believed after he graduated high school that he’d be locked away for the rest of his life. That his life on the “outside” would be over. That he’d be separated from Tohru forever… and he’d be doomed for a lonely eternity. 

But instead, she changed his life forever. Changed everyone around her like the precious flower she was. If anyone could bring out the good in someone, it was always her. Always Tohru. He didn’t deserve her… God, he didn’t. But she chose him. And how lucky he was that she did. 

Shigure and the rat weren’t going to be home that afternoon. The thought of being left alone with Tohru made him warm all over. It shouldn’t be a big deal. They spent so much time together as it was since they’d been dating for months. And during their summer break they were alone a few times and it didn’t matter. Kyo couldn’t be afraid of being alone with the girl he loved. That was just stupid. There wasn’t anything to worry about. Or fret over. Or overthink. Right? 

Right?

So, why did today feel so different? Why was he so itchy all over? He’d noticed a shift lately. He found himself staring at her hips as they swayed, found himself eyeing the creamy skin of her legs that shown between her skirts and socks. 

“Oh, hey, Carrots. You waiting on Tohru?” 

Bristling, he rocketed out of his thoughts. Kyo glanced up to see Uotani standing there with her arms crossed. Freaky wave girl wasn’t with her, shockingly. Not that he minded… her constantly teasing him about how attractive his master is made his skin crawl. Since the spirit of the cat had left him, he’d noticed that people were able to sneak up on him a lot easier than they used to. He kind of hated it, but he couldn’t really complain. 

“Yeah, why?” 

She cocked a brow. “Why do you think? Usually the prince is around to walk Tohru home with you, but he’s been surprisingly absent lately.” 

Kyo snorted. “‘Course he is. He’s gotta girlfriend now and that student council crap. Besides, s’not like I want that jerk around.” 

“You do like to hog our Tohru to yourself, huh?” 

“That’s not what I meant!” 

Uotani just barked a laugh at his expense. Just like she always did. Kyo couldn’t help but think there was a bit of spite to her words. She wasn’t wrong. And Tohru already agreed to move away with him. She’d be far away from the people she loved. There was a small guilt that ate at him for that reason alone. Tohru had agreed to come with him. Insisted that he was her most important person, and that she wanted to be with him. So, so many times, Kyo thought about how he didn’t deserve her devotion. That she shouldn’t give up everyone she loved just for him. But she was insistent. 

He’d do whatever it meant to make her happy. 

Kyo would give Tohru the damn universe if he could. If that's what she wanted. 

“Seriously, though… Don’t go too crazy with your new found alone time. Be gentle with her, alright? She’s never had a boyfriend before and all of this is new to her.” 

Pushing off the wall, he tilted his head. “Well, yeah. I’m new at this too and-- wait .” Kyo felt his cheeks heat as the meaning of her teasing words suddenly sunk in. “Shut up! That’s none of your damn business.” 

Uotani tsked. “Don’t tell me you’re a prude, Carrots.” 

“I--” he gritted his teeth. “I ain’t talking about this with you,” he sneered as he turned his back to her. 

“You really do fluster easily, dontcha? No wonder you’re soulmates.” 

Kyo grunted, feeling his cheeks warm clenching his fists before stomping off. “I’m gonna go find her.” 

“See ya! I’ll ask Tohru all about it later!” she snickered with a wave. 

“Shut up!” 

Damn, did she know? Was it obvious he’d been checking Tohru out lately? Shit! Had she noticed!? Fuck, that was embarrassing. 

  The walk back home was uncomfortably silent, not that Tohru noticed. Her fingers were twined with his own as she hummed happily and swung their connected palms without a care in the world. She was muttering about what to make for dinner. Kyo loved that about her… that she could be in her own little world. Entirely obvious to the inner turmoil he felt. Not that he wanted her to know what he was so worked up about. 

That stupid yankee didn’t know what she was talking about. ...Well, maybe she did . But that wasn’t the point. He couldn’t pressure Tohru into something like that. Unless… Wait. Did--Did Tohru bring it up to her friends? Did they talk about that kinda stuff? Did that mean she was ready for the next level of--of physical affection? 

Shit, what did he know!? He couldn’t even hug a girl until recently. And the only girl he wanted to hug was Tohru. The only girl he wanted to do anything with was Tohru. They’d just learned how to cuddle, dammit. And Kyo hadn’t even realized how fucking touch starved he was until he and Tohru curled up together watching movies in the living room. Until they laid together listening to stupid music on the radio on her bed. Until he hugged her from behind when she cooked dinner--Shigure and Yuki caught them that time. And he was utterly humiliated and annoyed by their teasing. 

Who could he even talk to about it? Certainly not Shigure. That guy was gross and perverted and there was no way he was going to ask for sex advice from somone who wrote trashy romance novels. Even if he was an expert on the topic, clearly. His master was also out of the question. He would be far too embarrassed to discuss that with his parent. Even if he wouldn’t make a big deal out of it, it’d still be a big deal for Kyo. 

So… that left the damn rat, didn’t it? Shit. No way. No way in hell would he stoop low enough to ask that bastard if he knew how to… er. Besides, he didn’t necessarily understand Yuki's relationship with Tohru, he can’t say that the guy would appreciate it. Anytime he fucked up, that guy was always there to glare at him. Or beat the crap out of him. 

Fuck. He really was on his own with this, wasn’t he? Obviously, Kyo wasn’t an idiot. He knew the mechanics of how intimacy worked. But that just seemed like such a huge step to take. Which meant… he really would have to ask Tohru how she felt on the matter. 

“Kyo…? Are you okay?” 

Ah, crap. She finally noticed. 

His cheeks flushed in an instant. “Y-Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine.” 

Tohru blinked, looking over him. “Are you sure?” 

Just spit it out. Just spit it out, goddammit!

“D-Do you and your friends talk about--uh--I dunno… girl talk?” 

She seemed a bit taken aback by his question but took a moment to mull it over. Tohru glanced away from him, tapping her chin as she thought. “I guess so. We have sleepovers a lot. We talk about girl things then.” 

“Do you… talk about me?” 

“Well, yeah. I love talking about you, Kyo. Oh,” she glanced away as he tried not to focus on the admission that his girlfriend does, in fact, talk to her friends about him. “That must get bothersome after a while. I hope Uo-chan and Hana-chan aren’t annoyed by it.” 

Kyo bumps her slightly with a small smirk. “They would never tire of hearing your voice. Neither do I. It’s… It’s special.” 

Giggling, she gazed up at him. Those brown eyes full of a happiness that made him weak as she smiled so innocently. God, he almost felt dirty… thinking of her like that. But wouldn’t it be wrong if he didn’t? She was the love of his life. Of course, he thought of her like that. As a woman. As someone to hold and kiss and caress… He really did want to touch her. To please her. To make her feel loved the way she deserved. Damn, she deserved so much.  

There was a dampness between their palms. Was he sweating? Was he nervous? Shit, he needed to chill out before she really noticed something was up. Because she would. It was Tohru. She could read him like a damn book, just as he could with her. 

“Why do you ask?” 

He nearly choked. “Uh! J-Just curious is all. Just wanna know if I need to be worried about that yankee knowing all of my business.” 

Tohru giggled at that. “No, of course not.” 

Humming in agreement, Kyo thanked whatever deity was looking out for him that they were finally home. That had to have been one of the longest walks home of his life. Normally, he’d love Tohru’s company but being around her while he was driving himself insane… wasn’t helping him at all. 

He just kept thinking about touching her. How soft her skin was. How her cheeks flushed when he told her how cute she was. Would she blush like that when he ran his palms along her bare hips and-- stop! Nope! Nope nope nope. Enough of that. 

Releasing her hand, he quickly unlocked the door (because it was actually locked this time) and kicked off his shoes. Tohru trotted in happily after him, blissfully unaware of the dirty images that had just flashed in his mind. Was he really a dirty pervert like Shigure said? No. No way. It was perfectly natural to be attracted to his girlfriend. Physically. Emotionally. ...Sexually. All of it. That was part of being in love, right? To desire someone? To feel that want aching inside of him? 

Dammit, this was all Uotani’s fault. Yes, maybe he was fretting over being alone with Tohru… a little. But she brought it up! She made him think about--about that.  

“Kyo?” 

She was looking at him then. Tohru was bent at the waist, hands behind her back as she peered up at him from beneath her brown locks. There was that smile… that sweet smile that always made his chest tighten in a wonderfully longing ache. 

Finally, he relaxed for the first time since they’d left school. She wouldn’t bring it up, would she? It had to be him… She’d tell herself something stupid, wouldn’t she? She’d think he didn’t want her like that. She’d think that he wasn’t ready. She’d think he didn’t desire her physically, but dammit it all he did. He wanted her so badly it made him feel crazy. 

Dropping his bag, he grabbed her hand and tugged her close. She yelped in surprise when her face hit his chest. A small part of him was waiting to transform, but it never came. He knew logically it wouldn’t, but a small part of him always had that fear gnawing at the back of his mind. Instead of fretting, he wrapped his arms around her waist. 

“Sorry,” he murmured into her hair. “I’m the one being spacey today, huh?” 

Tohru gazed up at him with those beautiful brown eyes before reaching up and bumping him lightly on the head with her knuckle. 

...Did she just…? 

He snorted. “Dork.” 

“Kyo’s the one who needs to come back to earth,” she sang with a beam. “What do you want for dinner?” 

You.

His cheeks flushed. “Um, it’s up to you. M-Maybe, Shigure and the rat will know what they want. How about we just… Do you want to hang out?” 

Blinking, she tilted her head. “Of course. I always want to be with you.” 

Kyo groaned, bumping his forehead to hers. “You can’t say cute things like that.” 

That earned him another giggle in response. He could listen to that laugh every single day… Every sound she made was addicting. And Kyo greedily took them in. 

He wasn’t sure what he was doing when she followed him into his room. There wasn’t a plan… he hadn’t thought he’d get this far? N-Not that he was trying to go far with his girlfriend. He just--he just wanted to spend time with her. Whatever happened just happened. They would be leaving soon. Things would be different. And he just wanted to savor every moment he had of this life before their lives changed. Of course, he wanted to be with Tohru for the rest of his life. And he was excited for that. 

Tohru was curled against his side, her head resting on his chest. He loved her. He loved her so much. It never crossed his mind that there would be a day that he could do this. That he could cuddle. That he could lay in bed with her touching him like this. Unable to help himself, he brushed a hand through her hair. Pressing a kiss to her crown, he snuggled closer to her. 

With a content hum, Tohru glanced up at him. “Is this really okay, Kyo? Are you sure Shigure-san and Yuki-kun won’t mind that I’m not making dinner?” 

“If either of them have something to say, they’ll have to answer to me.” 

She laughed at that before nodding. “I’m… I’m so happy we can be like this. It’s so nice to lay here with you.” 

“I know… I--I never thought I’d be able to hold you.” 

He heard a small sniffle in response. Kyo looked down and saw the tears welling up in her eyes. “Oi! D-Don’t cry,” he sputtered and wiped her tears before they could fall. “Dummy, that’s nothing to get upset over. We’re here now.” 

Her voice was soft when she spoke. “S-Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll wake up and--and everything will be different. That Kyo will be gone and--” she whimpered. 

Oh. Oh, never. Never ever would he let that happen. 

Kyo tipped her chin up, smiling softly at her. “I’m not going anywhere, alright?” 

She nodded. “I-I love you.” 

“I love you, too…” 

He cupped her cheeks, pulling her in for a soft kiss. Warmth pooled inside his gut, swirling and seeping into his veins. Heartbeat quickening in his chest, he felt more want for her than he ever had before. Kyo wasn’t sure when he did… and he hadn’t even meant to… but he deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth against her own. Tohru didn’t seem to object as she sighed into his mouth. 

Palm sliding into her hair, he twined his fingers into the brunette strands. He felt Tohru’s smaller digits clench the front of his shirt. When did the room get so hot? When did it become so suffocating? So hard to breathe? 

When she let out a whine, Kyo felt his world tilt. The tiny sound sent heat straight to his groin. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Mayday. This was bad. This was so, so bad. He had to control himself for her sake. 

Suddenly, her lips left his. She didn’t move far though. “Kyo…? Is this okay?” Tohru asked, her lips brushing his. 

He chuckled. “I should be asking you that. Are you okay?” 

Tohru nodded, face flushing. “Y-Yes. I feel, um…” 

“Yeah,” he snorted. “Me too.” 

“Really? You too?” 

“Mhmm…” 

Tohru cuddled closer to him. “Could we… continue?” 

“Do you want to?” 

“Yes.” 

Well, hell. Who was he to deny her anything? 

Kyo cupped her cheek with a tender smile. The way she gazed up at him, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. She was so beautiful. He hoped she knew that. Hoped she knew how much he treasured her. He wanted to show her. Gently, he pulled her back in. Kyo pressed his lips back to her own. The kiss was chaste and tender. Until he deepened it, his tongue tracing her lips gently. Tohru hummed sweetly in response, her lips dancing with his own. 

Slowly, he trailed his fingers downward over her hips. Tohru’s breath hitched making him chuckle. “You okay?” 

“Yes, you just surprised me is all.” 

He smiled at that with a timid brush of his fingers against her thigh. With a whimper, Tohru clutched his chest again before tugging him down for more kisses. He would gladly oblige her. Kyo felt his fingers tremble when his hand slipped beneath her skirt. No slap came or anything, so Tohru didn’t seem to mind so much. 

She hummed when he cupped her rear, and it only egged him on. Kyo kneaded the soft flesh there. God, she was soft. So soft. He loved that. Loved how much she squished under his touch. Maybe, he was being too bold… but he fiddled with the edge of her panties, dipping a finger beneath the cloth. 

Her lips left his. “You, um--” 

Pausing, he glanced down at her. “Yeah?” 

“Take--” she sucked in a breath. “You can take them off.” 

Heart pounding, his throat grew tight. “O-Okay.” 

His hand traveled slowly upward, giving her time to change her mind. The last thing he’d want was to displease her. But the objection never came, and Kyo tugged at the waistband of her panties. His breath was lost in his throat as he watched them slide down her legs. He was going to die. This would truly be the death of him. 

She shuffled, her thigh brushing against the bulged formed in his pants. He groaned in response. Tohru yelped, pushing back. 

“I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you!? I didn’t mean--” 

He bumped his fist to her forehead. “Stop, dummy. That didn’t hurt. Uh--at all.” 

“Oh. It--It didn’t?” 

“Yeah, I, uh, didn’t make that noise cause it hurt.” 

Blinking, she gazed at him. The gears were turning in her head. God, he loved her but sometimes Tohru could be really dim. But… he couldn’t help but find it endearing. She was really cute. She gasped, the realization dawning on her. Cheeks reddening further, she gawked at him. “O-Oh. I understand. Should I do something…?” 

“Just… Can I touch you?” 

Silently, she nodded. 

Kyo gently pushed her shoulder, encouraging Tohru to roll onto her back. Leaning his cheek against her forehead, his hand returned to her skin. He rubbed gentle circles on her thigh before finally venturing upward. When his hand found her center, they both froze. Tohru whimpered, brow pinched and lips pursed. He was sure it didn’t hurt… She was just nervous. So was he. 

He was timid when he brushed a finger along her folds. There was a slickness there that surprised him. Her breathing was heavy on his neck, the feeling sending tingles down his spine. Kyo was terrified of rushing. Of going too fast and not pleasing her. Or even disappointing her. 

Pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, he stayed there with his lips against her skin as he dipped a single digit inside her. The little moan that left her lips almost killed him. But he had to keep his wits about him. He had to do this right. This was their first time doing anything like this. He couldn’t fuck it up. 

His motions were slow. A soft in and out. When Tohru hitched her leg upward, he almost died. But that was a good sign, right? He wasn’t hurting her. She was okay with what he was doing. That was what he wanted. He wanted to please her. Make her feel good. That was his goal. All for her. 

Tohru’s fingers wrapped into his hair. She panted through parted lips. The sight had him wanting her even more than he did before. His movements grew faster, earning him another sound approval from her throat. 

“Kyo… I-I…” 

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” 

She clutched him, thighs quivering as her walls throbbed around his finger. She suddenly gripped his wrist, stopping his motions in his tracks. Tohru fought to catch her breath as he pulled his hand from her folds. Cringing at the moisture, he wiped his hand on his pants. 

Tohru gave a contented sigh. “That was really nice, Kyo.” 

“Did it feel good?” 

“Mhmm.” 

He smiled, nuzzling her crown. “Good. That’s what I wanted.” 

“But…” her palm brushed the bulge in his pants. His brain suddenly forgot all coherent thought when she gingerly rubbed him. “What about Kyo?” she murmured. 

Clearing his throat, he shook his head. “You don’t have to…” 

The sound of the front door opening downstairs sent them both whirling away from one another in a panic. Yuki’s voice called up to them, announcing he was home. Well, that was better than it being Shigure... Tohru yanked her panties from the futon and slipped them back on beneath her skirt. Kyo tried to ignore the sight of her bare ass when she pulled them up, but that was completely futile. 

“You’re beautiful.” 

She paused in her steps towards the door. Spinning, she smiled at him. “We’ll take care of Kyo next time, alright?” she asked, pressing her fingers to her lips. 

Kyo felt himself flush as she turned and left the room on clearly wobbling legs. Was she… Did she just tease him!? Dammit! He knew she was damn cheeky. God, his girlfriend was too damn cute for her own good. She would definitely be the death of him. 

He could hear her run down to welcome Yuki home. Glancing down at the very obvious tent in his pants, he realized that he’d definitely have to wait until he calmed down to go downstairs. He flopped back on the futon, rolling to his side. 

It was… weird. Had they really just done that? Did he really just pleasure his girlfriend? And then she said--

….Wait. 

Next time!?