#I keep skipping her for hot men who are really good and strong…

[villainology]

SHUT UPPPP argenti is sooooo good 😭 im trying to get his lightcone as well, and when I do I really wanna get some eidolons of him 👉🏻👈🏻

[true-blue-sonic]

Curious to know the difference between Espilver & Silvaze for you (personally I definitely entirely disagree that Espilver is Silvaze but gay 😭)

I must say I've never heard of that statement before myself, though my gut feeling is also that they are not just "the exact same ship with a different person", so to say. It is mostly because Espio and Blaze have quite some differences in personality that affect their interactions with Silver, but I feel like the fact Silver's personality has notable differences between his '06 and Rivals 2 appearances also has an influence on it. And as I wrote this post, I also noted some things about Blaze's personality in '06.

So let's unpack all that, haha! I can understand why at first glance, it's easy to see Blaze and Espio as characters who are mostly just "the same". For example, they're both portrayed as the straight men of the bunch: for Blaze clearly seen in Rush Adventure, where she starts out rather irritable, dismissive, and unamused of Marine, and for Espio with his focused and strength-obsessed attitude compared to Vector and Charmy's goofing around and bickering. Both of them are driven and heavily disciplined, are notably stoic amidst the more zany other members of the cast, work swiftly towards goals, seem more introverted and alright with doing things solitarily, have the occasional moment of wit and snark, can certainly get flustered, and possess a strong desire for justice, among other traits.

But there's also differences between them. Blaze's withdrawal from others came from the pressure she put on herself and 'always having been alone' because of her pyrokinesis, whereas Espio's solitary attitude seems more like an informed attribute to me. Wherever he goes, the Chaotix usually are not far behind, and when he does go solo it's apparently either to go train and hone his skills or because Vector sent him out for a mission. Espio thus doesn't at all seem to have any of the self-loathing Blaze used to have in her pressuring herself: I would say that for him it seems more like a self-imposed desire to become more powerful, which he seems to tackle masterfully and with a level attitude. Blaze also has much more of a temper on her, which makes her easily riled up; Espio meanwhile has a burning desire to snuff out evil, but keeps a calm head throughout. None of these are really traits that affect Silver, but I find it noteworthy to point them out.

But.... to be quite honest, what makes this ask rather difficult for me is that Blaze in '06 doesn't have much to do, which I believe is a common fandom complaint. Silver is the only one to ever acknowledge her, and her role mostly just is to be a satellite around him who keeps him on-track and gives him encouragement and tips. There's very little of her Rush personality (hot-headed, awkward about making friends but getting better at it, not good at accepting help which carries on a bit still in Rush Adventure, etc.) that shows in '06, in my opinion. For example, a noteworthy trait of her in Rush is the fact that she was teased for her pyrokinesis and had high expectations of protecting the Sol Emeralds on top, which caused her to shut others out and put everything on her own shoulders. That is not an experience I would say can be skipped in Blaze's personality: it really heavily influences how she acted in Rush, and affects her to this day even after her growth. But afaik there's no mention in '06 at all of Silver positively impacting her with his apparent acceptance of her and her powers: the trait is merely informed at best, not shown. Basically all development is centered around Silver instead, where Blaze is there to help but does not develop in turn, if that makes sense? And thus, she's more of a blank slate who's very supportive of Silver and who clearly loves and appreciates him as her companion, but whose personality as we'd seen it one year prior is not really there for me. And that makes it difficult for me to objectively compare the differences between the two ships, to be quite honest.

I will readily concede that Espilver and Silvaze could have many things in common: I would say both Espio and Blaze serve as Silver's support in their respective games, where they keep him on track and help him keep up his hopeful attitude. They seem to be well-synced with him, and Silver clearly respects them both. But the main difference for me is that Silver generally is the one making the plans and handing out the orders in Rivals 2, that Espio also follows. Espio only steps in when Silver cannot do so anymore, such as when his powers are almost depleted in the canyon. Silver does not need him for any emotional support or to get advice: he already knows with certainty what he is doing. Meanwhile, though '06!Silver also feels like 'the leader' between him and Blaze for me, he seems much more dependent on Blaze for said emotional support and guidance. He turns to her when he gets stuck about the morality of hurting one person to help many, and she calms him down when he expresses frustration about being unable to defeat Iblis for good, for example. I'd say it is in such things that those little details lie for me: '06!Silver has a lot more focus on morality and world-saving, whereas Rivals!Silver's quality that stands out most is kiiiiiind of being a jerk at most times. He's got his sweet moments, also with Espio, but his temper is very noteworthy in that game; much more than it was in '06, in my opinion.

And to add to that, I feel like the '06 personalities are not carried over so much in later games. In Colours DS, Silver and Blaze start one-upping each other for a bit about how they each could have defeated Orbot and Cubot solo, which I would say fits better with Blaze's withdrawn and occasionally-awkward-and-overly-serious demeanour as seen in Rush. Silver's self-confidence and competitive attitude meanwhile is present in most of his portrayals, and thus also here... but gone are the questions about morals or him needing emotional guidance, which makes a strong part of his personality in '06 for me. Also in one Sonic Channel story, Blaze and Silver get off on the wrong foot at first, and it takes some time for them to see the value in the other being there as their actions sync. I'd say such a story and development fits the two of them better with their non-'06 personalities: Blaze is self-reliant and doesn't accept help easily still, whereas Silver has more of a temper against her at first. It's quite different from '06, where they apparently already are the best of companions and Blaze's role kind of is to give Silver support. But the main source of Silvaze content simply is that game, and there Blaze's personality is rather lacking to me compared to what we learned of her before, and Silver's personality carries more focus on his softer, younger, naive sides. Meanwhile, in the Rivals 2 games Espio offers him his help in the game proper and you can see how they affect each other afterwards, but Silver does not need Espio for emotional guidance or to answer questions about how far you can acceptably go to save a world. For me, that makes both ships just a bit different!

[pensat-i-fet]

Want to join me? (Rúben Dias x Reader)

Masterlist

Wattpad

“Morning”

“Morning weirdo, I made you a big breakfast”, says my roommate Jenny when I reach the kitchen island of our apartment.

“Thanks, I need to leave in…”, I look down at my watch, “an hour and a half”.

“But you couldn’t skip your morning run”, she says, rolling her eyes.

“You know it helps me with the stress”.

“Yeah yeah, whatever”.

I can't help but smile when she puts the plate on the table and I see she made frittata for today’s breakfast. My favourite post-workout meal.

“So, tell me about today”, she says, sitting down to drink a cup of tea and keep me company while I eat.

“I’m taking the train to Manchester and doing a shoot there. Nothing too exciting, really”.

“Is it a campaign or an editorial?”

“Editorial. For Men’s Health Portugal. Really random for them to hire me but someone cancelled very last minute and I guess I was the only good option. The entire crew is Portuguese. It should be fun. I won’t understand a word they say all day”.

“And who’s the model? He is probably really hot. I’m so jealous”.

I laugh at her comment. “Some footballer. I don’t know”.

“I truly hate you. You know I love football and you just say that it’s some footballer. I hate you”.

“Jen, I barely know who plays for England and you want me to care about who plays for Portugal?”, I say with a shrug.

“There are six Portuguese players in Manchester but only one good option for that shoot”, she says, ignoring my comment.

“Well, I’ll let you know when I get there”, I say, taking my empty plate to the dishwasher so I can head to the shower. “Breakfast was perfect, thank you”.

“Ew, go shower now, stinky”, she says, getting away from my sweaty hug and I laugh all the way to my room.

**

Four hours later, I’m finally on set, getting all the clothes ready. Not that this footballer will be wearing much. The brief I got sent said that only trousers and shoes will be needed. I guess the ladies and the gents who like him will go crazy when they see him showing off his muscles in all the photos.

I shake my head at the thought. I never got what’s so fascinating about footballers.

“He’s ready”, says one of the women working at today’s shoot.

“Great. Thanks”.

When I get to the dressing area, I see there is a guy with his back to me and looking down at his phone.

“Hello?”

At the sound of my voice, he turns and looks at me for a couple of seconds before smiling. “Hi, you’re the stylist, right? I’m Rúben, nice to meet you”.

“Nice to meet you too”, I tell him, shaking his hand. His really strong hand.

“Ok, I need you to undress”, I say, quickly realising I’m too used to working with female models. When I look up at Rúben I can see him smirking at me. “You know what I mean”.

“Do I?”, he says, but I choose to ignore it.

“Someone will be here soon to do your body make-up. But I need to check if we got the right size for your clothes”.

“Can’t you do it? The body make-up?”, he adds the last part when I look up at him, confused.

“I’m not a make-up artist”.

“That’s a shame”, he whispers.

“What was that?”, I ask, pretending to not have heard it.

“Nothing”.

I'm thankfully saved by the real make-up artist, who starts to fuss around him the moment he takes his shirt off. I don't understand what she's saying to him but I can tell how uncomfortable he feels by the way he's smiling. I have to bite my lip to hide my smile at the scene in front of me.

"I was told your shoe size is 10.5. Is that right?"

"Yes", he answers and I start to put each pair of shoes next to the trousers he'll wear them with.

"Big feet for a big boy, huh?", tells him the make-up artist, laughing and staring at the arm she's holding to apply the make-up.

This time I can't help it and a small chuckle escapes my lips. Rúben gives me a "it's not so funny" look, which only makes my smile bigger.

"Ok, I'm done, darling. Your turn", she tells me with a wink.

"Here, put this on", I say to Rúben, passing him some green joggers while I turn to get the matching shoes.

Thinking that he is done getting changed, I turn again to find him bending down to put the joggers on. I know I shouldn't, I know it's unprofessional, but I can't help but stare.

How is he even real?

A beep on my phone wakes me up from the beautiful dream that is Rúben.

Jenny: how is it going? Who are you doing the shoot with?

Me: guess.

Jenny: Rúben Dias.

Me: how did you know?

Jenny: he's the fittest out of the six Portuguese in Manchester 🤷

Me: he's alright, I guess.

Jenny: take a photo of him for me. Please!

Me: Jennifer, I can't do that. They could fire me if they find out.

Jenny: then don't let them catch you.

"You ok?", asks Rúben.

"Yes. Umm…would you mind if I take a photo of you? For my…eh…the behind the scenes".

"Take as many as you want".

And so I take the photo. When I go to check it I can see his cheeky smirk. Is it permanently on his face?

Jenny: I'm dead. It was nice meeting you 🥵

Me: you're so silly. I gotta keep on working. Talk to you later.

I put my phone away and walk towards Rúben to fix his outfit.

"Ok, let me pull this down a bit", I tell him, pulling his joggers down slightly, the way the photographer wants them. "And…the jacket", I say, getting a matching jacket and tying it around his hips. Trying to stop the slight shake of my hands.

I can feel my face getting hot and can only imagine how red it looks. Ridiculous. It's not the first time I dress a male model for a shoot, what's wrong with me?

"Ready. You can go with the photographer".

Seeing Rúben pose for the camera is an experience. He's so confident. Many would call him arrogant but I just think he knows how hot he is and loves it. There is nothing wrong with that.

When I look at the monitor, I can tell the bottom of the trousers I purposefully put higher to better show off the shoes look a bit weird, so I walk to where he is to put them down quickly.

I hear the photographer talking to Rúben again and I wouldn't have thought about it twice had he not changed to English so I could understand him.

"Sorry, she distracted me", he says, making me turn to see him smirking at me again. And making my already red face even redder.

This is going to be a long shoot.

**

Three outfits into the shoot, the photographer seems annoyed at something.

"What's wrong with him?", I ask Rúben, pointing at the photographer while I help him put on the next outfit.

He moves so he is closer to the people talking before answering me. "He thinks something is missing. That I need someone else to pose with me for some of the photos".

I roll my eyes at that. Photographers and their last minute changes of mind.

"Should have decided that first. Who's going to find a model now?"

"What about you?", asks Rúben, making me freeze and frown.

"What about me?"

"You could pose with me".

"I'm not a model. I know my otherworldly beauty might have fooled you but I'm just a stylist", I tell him, rolling my eyes.

"You are fit".

"Excuse me?", I say, eyes wide open.

"I mean as in being in good shape. Do you exercise often?", he answers, looking at my arms and shoulders that are now exposed since I took off my jumper and I'm only wearing a tank top.

"Yes, I love doing sport".

"Perfect", he says, smiling. "And you are also fit in the other sense of the word, by the way".

And with that he leaves me to talk to the photographer. What did just happen?

I don't really know what to do with myself while I see them talking. How I wish I could understand them right now.

"Rúben tells me you could take a couple of photos with him", tells me the photographer. "It's just what we needed. They are bringing some women's clothes you can wear. And you can style yourself", he laughs.

"I'm not a model", I say, not knowing what else to say.

"Don't worry, I'll guide you. And you've seen many models working. Just copy them".

Right, as if it was easy.

"I can't do this, Rúben", I tell him when the photographer is gone.

"You can. It'll be fine".

"Oh, there you are", says the make-up artist who is back but not for Rúben, she's here for me. "You don't need much done. Just a bit of foundation and mascara and done. Right, Rúben?"

"Yes, she doesn't need your help at all".

That smirk again. It'll be the end of me today.

"Here are the clothes", tells me one of the assistants who is carrying a rail full of women's sport clothes.

I pick a few outfits that will go well with what Rúben has to wear and look at him.

"Can you leave?"

"Why?"

"I have to get changed", I tell him, showing the clothes I have in my hands.

"I changed in front of you".

"Not the same thing and you know it. Go now so this can be over soon".

He obliges, laughing while he walks back to the shooting area.

I look at myself in the mirror and leave to join Rúben before I chicken out.

I see him standing and waiting until he turns to me and smiles again.

"Want to join me?", he says, arm extended towards me.

"I don't have another choice, do I?", I say, ignoring his chuckle.

"Ok", says the photographer, "I need you a bit closer…there. Your hands on your hips and your body turned to Rúben", he says, moving my body so I am posing just how he wants me to. "And you are almost perfect, Rúben, but how about we try with your hand on her back…right there. Yes. Not lower, this isn't that kind of shoot", he says, walking away and laughing.

He immediately grabs his camera and starts shooting again.

"Yes, you are exactly what we needed. Come to the monitor so we can see the photos".

We do as told and I position myself next to the photographer, mostly out of habit. I can feel Rúben by my side and then his arm moves so he can put it on the table that the monitor is on. After he does the same with his other arm, he cages me in between the table and him. I try not to blush again, but when he leans in and his arm touches my bare back, I can't help but feel goosebumps all over my body. When I look at him to see if he's noticed, he's already looking at me. I hate him.

"One more photo and we're done", claps the photographer and we go get changed.

For this final outfit Rúben is just wearing some plain black joggers that of course look perfect on him. I decide to wear a nice turquoise set to add a pop of colour to the photo.

"Wow", he says when I walk back to where he is.

"What is it?"

"That outfit on you is…wow".

"It's just some shorts and a sports bra. I wear this to the gym all the time", I shrug.

"When do you say is our gym date, then?"

Him and that smirk.

"You can lift her with just one arm, right?"

"He what?", I ask, looking at the photographer wondering if he's gone mad.

"For the photo. I want to try something a bit different. He can lift you by the waist and you put his arm on his shoulder", he mutters, thinking. "Look".

And so he helps us get in the pose he wants. Once we are ready, I can tell Rúben is holding me tightly so I don't fall. But he also isn't making much of an effort. That's how strong he is.

"That was perfect! Perfect! It's a wrap everybody!"

"You can put me down now", I tell Rúben. And so he does. Slowly. Which is nice because it means he's being careful, but it's also torture because of the way our bodies touch while he's putting me down. My blush is back, but I'm not the only one being obvious about how I feel right now.

"I'll go get changed. I need to get to the train station soon", I say, wanting to put some distance between us so I can think rationally again.

"Wait", says Rúben, following me. "What about that date?"

"What date?"

"Our gym date", he says, looking me up and down, his brown eyes looking darker than normal.

"I thought you were joking", I laughed.

"I wasn't. Or we could make it a dinner date if you want to".

"I…".

"Here", he says, writing something down on a piece of paper. "My number. Let me know when you are free for our date", he says with a wink before leaving.

I guess I'll have to find a free day on my busy schedule to come back to Manchester.

[waveridden]

i would love for you to give deets on why you disliked those books. i love salt

yessss i love complaining. putting this under a cut because it's long, however i'll say up top that if you found this post because you tumblr searched a book you like... maybe skip this one! because i didn't like these books!

the ballad of songbirds and snakes, if you haven't heard of it, is the hunger games prequel about president snow when he was young and hot. i dislike it on principle but when we did our hunger games book club i decided i was going to give it my best and most open-minded shot that i could handle giving it.

my main problem is actually that i extremely dislike the politics and the worldbuilding implications for the rest of the series. the timeline becomes incredibly fucked. the thematic implications don't make sense. it is so bloated, and so long, with so many names and characters and so relatively few interesting things happening.

also: the hunger games capitol is in denver. the original hunger games were in an old sports arena that was also used for concerts and events sometimes. it is described as having a massive goalpost that is tall and two-pronged. that's right. it's the denver broncos stadium. (the american football team.) once you know that the hunger games were in the denver broncos stadium, it kind of takes a lot of the suspense out.

-

the bromance book club is a highly-recommended romance novel. the basic premise is: a professional baseball player and his wife are on the brink of divorce after he discovers that she has never had an orgasm with him. in order to save his marriage (and learn to satisfy his wife) he joins a top secret book club of Alpha Men who secretly read romance novels to learn about what women like.

i actually thought the premise was cute but where it fell apart is that i HATED the main character. his wife was literally correct 100% of the time and should've left him. it was just unfunny and weird and bad.

-

identitti is a contemporary drama (translated from german) about a german-indian graduate student who discovers that her beloved german-indian advisor is, in fact, a white woman who has been lying about being indian. the book categorically refuses to cast judgment on her - the protagonist feels betrayed, but the advisor just keeps saying over and over that it's actually fine and identity is fluid, but never actually makes a good argument.

aside from the very strong personal reaction i have to this book (i.e. that the advisor was Wrong and that it was weird for this (german-indian) author to present this case) the biggest problem i have is that it used a real life mass shooting to prove a point. there was a hate crime in hanau, germany, that becomes a plot point in the book, but it revolves around people connecting that shooting to the fictional advisor, and i just think that's shitty, actually!

-

small game is the debut novel by blair braverman who is a survivalist and who raises sled dogs which rules. it is about a survivalist who goes onto a survivalist reality show, only for all the cameras to vanish halfway through, leaving the contestants to wonder: did something happen? have they been forgotten? is this all just a part of the show? or is something more sinister going on?

let me spoil the answer for you: the network lost funding, canceled the show, and something went wrong that meant that the contestants were never picked up. now you do not have to slog through ~150 pages of the contestants having that exact debate, weird gross survivalism, incredibly strange and upsetting animal and human deaths, and a really bizarre dubcon-y love story.

-

singer distance has a premise that i really loved: earth begins getting messages from mars that people realize are actually mathematical communications. after a certain point the math becomes too advanced; enter crystal, a genius mathematician who figures out the solution... and then disappears.

this book is not about crystal. it is about her college boyfriend, who feels inadequate to her and feels bad about it. after she goes missing he spends years pining after for her. eventually it is revealed that the two of them had a kid together and the kid finds him and they search for her together. i was really hoping for a fun and interesting scifi alternate history type thing and instead it was just a book about a sad boring man

-

cover is an indie comic miniseries about a comic book artist who is drafted into international espionage. the art was really nice but i haven't read bendis comics in years and i forgot how far up his own ass he gets, especially when it comes to how many words per page he writes. and this was especially navel-gazey, just talking constantly (constantly) (CONSTANTLY) about The Art Of Comics and how good it is. there also wasn't enough espionage.

-

how to give up plastic & how to save the world for free are two different and unrelated books that fall into a category i'm trying to read more of, i.e. the practical environmentally-friendly guide. these books had the same problem: the advice was fucking stupid! how to give up plastic said that if companies send you unnecessary plastic packaging, you should ship it back to them to make a statement (what!!!!!!) and every idea in how to save the world for free cost money.

i think my biggest problem with books like these is that most of the advice is for 1) homeowners, because so much of the advice tends to be like "compost in your yard" or "install solar panels," and 2) people who have never considered buying reusable bags or water bottles. i am trying to find something with advice that is practical and cheap (the climate diet is the closest i've gotten, some of it is ridiculous but some of it is genuinely applicable) but these books just gave stupid fucking advice

[ryosmne]

Calling out AOT simps.

Hey again, I did this last time with jjk, here's the aot version cause I felt like it, been pretty sick recently and bored out of my mind. This isn't ment to disrespect anyone, everything I say is meant as a joke and not to be taken to heart. I included the characters I already have an opinion on, idk maybe I'll expand the list. Anyways enjoy reading :>

Hange simps: Ok I see y'all, you're valid af, Henge is Hella hot but on a serious note how's your mental health doing? Carrying your friends issues isn't fun, pls take a break, have a cookie and sleep in fuzzy blankets you deserve it. They'd treat you like royalty, I can't roast you, congratulations on your choices. Either just as insanely upbeat as them or very relaxed and you need a person with a very upbeat personality to keep you leveled. 10/10 you're sweethearts and I've never seen an army of simps as hot and with different styles. Casual indie music enjoyer<3

Levi simps: You have attachment issues. There I said it. It's been like what? 9 years since the anime came out and you're still so down bad for this man ever since he baybladed his way into your heart. Most of y'all would drop every anime crush for him, he's top dog for you. Let's face it no one could get him to open up but I don't think you're ready for this conversation. Your family knows about Levi, your friends know about Levi, you're probably never letting him go. For that I'll say you're extremely loyal also you have unrealistic standards in dating. Pretty sure you're great cooks. You have low-key adapted his personality and you're badasses. Also valid 10/10 I think you like chill rnb, idk I can't read y'all.

Mikasa simps: You fell for her cause she's hella strong and gorgeous, she deserves the world and so do you, but for the love of God if I see another word about the unspeakable things you'd do with her menstrural products im coming for your internet connections. I'll skip the obvious need you have for her to beat you up, I love her too I'm down bad for her but I get my daily dose of grass touching, y'all should try it too. I hope you know she hasn't washed her scarf ever since eren gave it to her. 9/10 you need to chill, fucking mappa made us all feral. Dark clothes, You listen to mitski.

Eren simps: Welcome to group therapy, do you want to share something with the circle or shall I go first? :> You have extremely unhealthy habits. No you don't need more caffeine for today, I beg you have a sip of water and some fruit. You don't care if he destroyed everything on earth as long as you got destroyed by him too. You probably read a lot of modern au fics to escape the pain (don't be shy drop your recs in my comments pls, it's a need at this point). If you started the simping campaign in season four you probably simped for Levi before that. You now have a thing for long hair and man buns now. Dog person, alternative look idk I picture y'all with piercings and tattoos. You believe in traumatising people back, who am I to judge? How does it feel to have your entire simp list be villains? If mikasa simps need to touch grass y'all should probably go to a field and start chewing it up, you know what I'm talking about, I won't elaborate. 15/10 if you also simp for his Titan form, bmth enjoyer, if you don't know what music to play you go an Eren Jaeger playlist.

Reiner simps: Who hurt you? I'll just say it, daddy issues. You think you can be a therapist to him, probably give him comfort, you can't I'm sorry. I feel like he'd treat you ok, but please stop going after people who have issues it's not good for you. But I feel you he's so hot and troubled also honkers. You have a thing for big chested anime men, probably also a toji or Nanami simp, dare I say Yami? Can I be honest tho I really like y'all, you're chill and gorgeous with taste, I can ignore the mental health issues too cause this man is something else. 20/10 you give me grunge music vibes.

Armin: Smarty pants, you like control. I low-key think you're a bit crazy in a good way, you seem very calculated but lmao every decision you make is last minute :') you are very well spoken and seemingly calm. He'd treat you great I can't roast you at all, I'm sorry. 10/10 very good choice, let the rest of us burn, dark/light academia aesthetic, I think you get down to some K-pop.

Jean simps: People of culture, you're also cocky like him but not as hot headed. Another man that would give you the world, I also can't roast you, you make better decisions than I ever did in my life. MCU fan. You have a thing for side characters, I think you always like someone other than the MC. You have a thing for hands. 10/10 great street style looks, classic rock enjoyer.

Erwin: Unhealthy, he'd lead you to death just so he could see that basement. He's a crazy bastard, make better choices, you don't deserve to be eaten by titans. You have a thing for authority figures. -100/10 I picture y'all in sundresses and you'd look amazing, you deserve better.

[sunatooru]

I crave violence 🌚

May I have Kyotani, Iwaizumi, Daichi, and Kuroo react to some scrub hitting in their gf even though she’s telling the scrub that she’s happily taken? I wanna see em be scary/overprotective 😆

Thank you for requesting my violence enthusiast 😂 I hope these are good enough and let me know xx

~

Warning: f!reader, can be pre/post time-skip, creepy guy bothering you and gets close, reader talks back a little, swearing I guess

Part 2 - Bokuto and Atsumu

~

Kyotani

* He left for a single minute and a guy was already bothering you

* “Listen sweet cheeks, I think we’d look really good together.” The weirdo smirks and you grimace at his words

* “I have a boyfriend. Please go away.” You roll your eyes but that doesn’t stop him

* “Yeah? I don’t see him here. Come on baby, let’s go grab a drink.” The guy gets closer to you and you quickly take a step back

* “Get out of her face, before I break yours.” You hear a growl

* You turn and watch your boyfriend glare at the guy, his nose scrunched up as he bares his teeth

* “She told you to leave. Why the fuck are you still here?” He walks up to the guy, maintaining eye contact and pushing you behind him gently

* “I said, why the fuck are you still here?” He grits, the lines in his forehead stressed until the guy walks away

* He continues to watch the guy, ready to yell if he decides to turn around

* Fortunately the guy doesn’t and you softly pull at your boyfriends jacket

* “Ken... he’s gone now.” You grab his attention

* “I’m not leaving you alone ever again. Idiots think they’re in your league..fuck off.” He grunts and wraps his arm around your waist

* The rest of the day he keeps you close, growling at anyone who stares too long at you

Iwaizumi

* he was literally only a few steps from you when he saw a guy start talking to you

* “You’re a real beauty, you know. You’ll look much better in my bed though.” The guy smirks at you, slightly brushing his hand over your shoulder.

* “Thanks, my boyfriend thinks so too. And no thanks, I prefer my own bed.” You screw your face at him and look away, hoping the guy will leave

* “Boyfriend huh? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing.” You have to stop yourself vomiting as his breath hits you

* “The only thing he’ll share with you is gum..” the guy looks at you annoyed, ready to step closer until his shoulder gets pulled back

* “Don’t even try it.” You smile when you hear your boyfriend

* “Touch her and I’ll break your arm.” He warns, stepping in front of you and cracking his neck

* He rolls his sleeves up and eyes the guy, clenching his jaw and pushing the guy away harshly

* “Leave right now before you end up on the ground.” His deep voice ripples and the guy scurries off

* “Baby, are you okay? Did he do anything?” He checks you before glancing back

* “Haji, I’m fine. He was so gross, thank god you came.” You hug him tightly and he kisses your forehead

* “Hmm, good thing I was here but I think I’ll teach you some self defence for when I’m not, okay?” He gives you a kiss

* The next day he gives you a lesson on self defence and shows you men’s weaknesses, letting you hit him because ‘he can take it’

Daichi

* It was date night and Daichi was running a little late, so you found a bench and waited quietly until some guy decided to give you unwelcome company

* “What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone, looking that good.” The guy whistles and you pretend you didn’t hear him

* “Hey! I’m talking to you. Come on, why don’t we have some fun and head to mine?” You sigh when the guy takes a seat next to you

* “Listen, I have a boyfriend who is really amazing. So, can you like, go away.”

* “Why don’t you ask nicely?” The guy leans into you and you quickly push him away

* “Hey!” You both look towards the booming voice

* Your boyfriend stalks towards the two of you, knuckles turning white as he forms fists

* “Move away from her right now. And I’m asking nicely.” He stares down at the guy, eyes locked onto the creeps’

* “Relax man” the guy laughs but it’s not funny

* Daichi pulls the guys shirt and moves him away from you

* He holds your hand and narrows his eyes at the guy

* “I’ve been told I have strong hands. Want to confirm it for me?” He questions the guy, raising his hand to show off his pronounced veins

* The guy mutters a ‘whatever’ and leaves you two alone

* “I’m so sorry I’m late. I got a little held up but I promise it won’t happen again.” He cups your hands and apologises, kissing your cheek and begging with his eyes to forgive him

* “Babe, you’re not that late, don’t worry. You made it in time to get that guy to leave so bonus points!” You wrap your arm around his and walk together

* “Next time, I’m picking you up from your house. Can’t have weird men making you uncomfortable...” he pats your head as you make your way to your date

Kuroo

* You came into the room together with Kuroo, sat at the same table, only separated when your friend called you but this guy was totally oblivious when he approached you

* “Never seen you around here before. Why don’t you come and have a seat at my table?” The guy smiles and you shake your head politely

* “Oh, I came here with my boyfriend and I’m sitting with him already.”

* “Really? You’re not just lying about having a boyfriend, are you? Come on, you’re really hot and I’d love to get to know you.” The guy tries again and you fake smile as you explain to him again

* “My boyfriend will be coming back soon and I don’t think you should stay here any longer.”

* “Come on-“

* “Is there a problem?” You feel Kuroo’s hand on your lower back, his voice an octave lower than usual as he speaks

* “I’ve watched you harass my girl for a while now. Don’t you think you’re a little brave, hitting on someone well above your weight?” Kuroo raises his eyebrows and glares down at the guy

* “You’re lucky there’s a crowd because I’d really love to show you why you shouldn’t bother women who clearly aren’t interested.” He clicks his tongue, looking at the guy from top to bottom

* “Bother her again and you’ll deal with me. Now go and take your seat.” He gives the guy a hard pat on his shoulder and takes you away

* “Damn baby, can’t even leave you alone to go pee, without some guy trying to steal you.” He huffs, pulling out your chair then taking his seat

* “Please, he would never steal me. Thank you Tetsu, he was really weird.” He grips your hand tight

* “It’s nothing. Just got to protect what’s mine.” He winks, kissing your hand, smirking

[just-here-for-the-moment]

For the DIFFERENT POV GAME:

I want Javi’s POV on this whole adorable scene.

Okay, my Queen @quica-quica-quica, I want you to know that I suuuuucked in a huge breath when I saw this Ask, because I was entirely unsure if I could do this. It seemed like a really hard challenge, but FOR YOU I’ll try anything.

I dug in to see what I could do, and of course because I can’t just write succinctly I had to start waaaaaay back in the beginning of the story to get Javier where I needed him for the phone number scene… hope that’s okay!!

Thank you for challenging me this way! This went from scary to amazing in just a few days! I love you so much, my friend!!!

---

Coffee Shop Girl (a companion piece to “For Now” told from Javier’s point of view)

Word count: 3000+

Rating: mature, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (Austin coffee shop barista; cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: slow-burn; references to previous hiring of sex workers; cigarette smoking; Javier masturbating

Javier Peña felt like he was at loose ends. Not for the first time in his life, but it’s different feeling ‘lost’ as a young man than feeling ‘lost’ when you’re on the wrong side of 40. At least a teenager can still expect their whole life ahead of them. Since leaving the DEA and the fight in Colombia behind, he had been feeling directionless.

Spending some time at his dad’s ranch in Laredo had helped, the way that hard labor and sweat always does. It left him too tired to ruminate, to sink into the blues and feel sorry for himself. He had lined up a teaching job at a university in D.C. but it didn’t start until the fall semester, and Javier wasn’t looking forward to an entire blazing-hot summer on the ranch. So when his friend Bill called from Austin and offered a short contract job doing consulting for one of the state agencies, he jumped at the chance.

Javier landed at Mueller Airport at 2:00 in the afternoon on the second Saturday in June. He made his way out of luggage pickup to the Hertz desk and signed for a rental car. It didn’t take him long to find the apartment complex where Bill had arranged for him to stay. Bill’s coworker’s son had graduated from UT Austin in May, and the lease wasn’t up until August, so everything worked out perfectly. Javi could sublet for the remainder of the summer, and the apartment complex was close enough to the office that he could take the bus, meaning he wouldn’t have to put too many miles on the rental car or pay for parking downtown. A small, blandly furnished one-bedroom apartment near work was perfect. He could make it work for two months, and he had certainly lived in much worse places during his years traveling.

On Monday Javier was introduced around the office and given his portfolio of cases to consult on. He also found out that the coffee in the office was total shit. He had spent too many years drinking government-grade slop at the DEA and other agencies to put up with it now. He wasn’t one to complain, or to order any of the frilly new designer coffee drinks that seemed to be making the rounds among the ladies in the secretarial pool, but he had noticed a coffee shop between here and the bus stop. Some local place, one of those Austin things where they boasted about fair trade and locally roasted beans. If they made a decent cup of black coffee he could splurge, buy a cup on his way into the office each day.

The bus dropped him off at the corner at 7:45, so he could grab a coffee and still be on time to work at 8:00. Punctuality wasn’t always his strong suit, but Javier wanted to at least make a good impression while he was consulting. You never knew who might be a network contact to something good, and he didn’t want to screw Bill over after he had recommended him for the contract.

Tuesday Javier tried the coffee shop and found out that their coffee was not only decent for the price, it was actually good. Wednesday he went back again, this time brushing fingers with the pretty barista by accident. He offered her a “thanks” and then went on his way. Thursday he walked in and stood patiently in line behind two stoner kids trying to make up their minds between breakfast tacos and blueberry muffins. The pretty barista was there again, and she waved him over with a smile, indicating he could skip to the counter and leave the hippie kids in line.

“Black coffee, right?” Her smile actually reached her eyes, and for a moment Javier was very glad for all of the body language and psychology classes he had ever had to sit through. It was nice having a pretty lady smile at you to start your morning, and even better that this one already knew his order. She was quick, he figured, and good at her job if she had his order memorized after only two days as a customer. Not that ‘black coffee, to go’ was a difficult order, but he hadn’t expected to become a regular so quickly.

He smiled and nodded, “That’s right. Thank you.” He looked for a wedding ring and then for a nametag on her black apron, but didn’t see either one. He slid a rumpled $5 bill across the counter, larger than the singles he had paid with the previous two days, but she was nice. “Keep the change.”

He thought he saw her bite her lip as she turned away, and while she was fixing his cup he took a moment to check her out. He wasn’t some kind of pervert who would goose her from over the counter, but from what he could see she was attractive. Hell, most women were attractive to Javier. He suddenly realized it had been a while since he’d gotten laid. His last relationship was years past, and he no longer visited prostitutes regularly. Javier wasn’t a ‘reformed man’ by any means, it was just that that habit had been limited to a specific time and place in his life where he wasn’t stable enough to have a long-term relationship, and it had the added bonus of gathering intelligence.

The barista turned back to him with the cup and when she handed it off their eyes locked and their fingers touched again. He saw her pupils dilate and recognized the little spark that turned over in his own gut. Damn, she really was attractive. But Javier didn’t want to be the kind of lecherous guy who hit on a woman while she was working. Too many men mistook the minimum of customer service friendliness for a sexual invitation. Or worse, like the men who hit on waitresses on purpose since they couldn’t be outright rude to stop them. Javier suppressed a smile and took the cup from her, nodding his thanks.

On Friday when he breezed into the coffee shop he saw the pretty barista smile from behind the counter, and she immediately turned and started pouring his to-go cup. She turned back and gave him the ‘what’s up’ chin nod while holding his cup up. Javier walked up and he slid a few singles across the counter to her.

Javier gave her a warm, “Thanks,” and winked at her. That was at least a harmless bit of flirting, in line with her bright smiles and her friendliness so far. If she liked it, great; and if not, then at least he hadn’t made her uncomfortable by asking for her number or hitting on her directly. When he said, “See you next week,” she smiled that bright smile back. Javier noticed that it again reached her eyes, lighting them up just a bit more than last time. A good sign.

The weekend dragged but Javier filled it up with errands: a run to HEB for groceries and to Highland Mall for a new shirt. If there was the possibility of a date sometime in the next few weeks he at least wanted to wear something other than his work clothes. Saturday night he ordered pizza and watched a movie on TV, some lame action movie with giant muscled guys shooting way too many bullets, and of course all the curse words and a sex scene edited out for network TV. Can’t let the kiddies hear the word ‘shit’ while they’re flipping channels, but watching Stallone blow a guy’s head off is good for their growing brains. He finished his pizza and a cigarette and then felt that tug, the loose ends, a little bored.

Javier took a shower and his mind went to the pretty barista, that smile, the sparkly eyes. He thought about those eyes looking up at him through her lashes, or down at him from on top. He wondered what her skin felt like, imagining the rest of her naked, spread out, touching him all over. He felt a little bit creepy touching himself to the thought of her, hoping it didn’t make him a bad person, hoping he would see her again on Monday. But fuck it, he needed the release. Javier came, spurting hot in the steamy shower as he leaned his head on his forearm and groaned into the cold tile wall. He wished he at least knew her name.

Sunday Javier slept in and then did laundry, tidied up the apartment, and took a jog around the neighborhood. He tried to talk himself out of a repeat of Saturday’s shower. It didn’t work.

On Monday Javier lit up as soon as he stepped off the bus. The first week of the consulting gig had gone well, but today was a big meeting and he knew the agency was not going to like his recommendations. He was constantly trying to quit, but at least he had cut back recently. He was down to a pack a day and only one cup of coffee. That had to count for something, right? Maybe his doctor would finally get off his back about that.

He smoked as rapidly as he could on his way to the coffee shop, and stubbed the cigarette out as soon as he reached the big window that overlooked the street corner. He tucked his sunglasses into the top pocket of his blazer and opened the door to the coffee shop.

The pretty barista was smiling, looking right at him and already holding up his cup of coffee like a game show model holding a prize. Javier felt his heart give a little squeeze, and he smiled and winked at her again as he approached the counter.

“You psychic or something? Or am I just that predictable?”

“Both, maybe.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him and gave him a toothy grin.

Javier opened his wallet and saw that his smallest bill was a $10, but he decided not to ask for change back. She was attentive to her customers, she had surprised him by having coffee ready, and she was cute. “Great service, keep the change.”

Her face lit up and she turned to put the money in the register. Javier turned and exited the front door, and then decided to look back through the big plate glass window. She was looking at him, and Javier realized that meant that she had watched him leave. He hoped he wouldn’t have to tip $10 every time to get that look. He lifted his cup, nodded at her, and then made his way to the office.

Tuesday she had his coffee ready again, so he gave her another wink with his smile, and he thought that she purposely put her fingers in a spot to touch his as she handed the cup over. He paid with a $5 bill again, and then thought about her smile and her touch all the way to the office a few blocks north. He didn’t want her to think that the overtipping was him trying to come on to her; it really was nice to have his order ready to go every day.

On Wednesday she had his coffee ready again as soon as he walked in, but Javier supposed that was a testament to the bus schedule more than his own punctuality. This time he paid with singles. But he didn’t want her to think the smaller tip was because of anything wrong with her customer service, so he smiled a little more warmly, turning the charm up as much as he dared without just outright hitting on her. He noticed she was looking again through the glass as he left. But of course the only reason he knew that was because he had looked, too.

On Thursday Javier decided that it wouldn’t hurt to flirt a little more obviously, but to give her an out in case she wasn’t interested. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable or fuck up his supply of good coffee, so he decided to take it a little slow. When he got to the corner he glanced into the window of the coffee shop and saw the pretty barista looking right at him. He took that as a good sign that she might be receptive to his flirting. He opened the door and let someone exit, then walked up to the counter. She pointed at his cup sitting on the counter in front of her, smiling that bright smile.

He arched an eyebrow up. “You trying to get rid of me? In and out so quickly?”

She grinned at him. “Depends on how long you were planning to stay. We close at 1:00 a.m. after open mic tonight. After that you gotta go somewhere else.” That was the most that she’d spoken to him yet. Javier decided to take his chance.

“And what time do you get off, after the morning shift?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” She winked and then bit the inside of her lips, like she had said something she shouldn’t have.

Javier decided to be direct. At least that would give her the chance to say ‘no’ if she wasn’t interested. He locked eyes with her and said, “I am.”

He was relieved to see her flash that big smile, all pretty soft lips and sparkly eyes. “I finish at 1:00, after the lunch rush.”

“Good to know.” He stuck his hand out to shake. “I’m Javier, by the way.” She continued to smile as she gave him her name. When she took his hand she gave a good firm shake, not like one of those women who went limp as soon as they shook a man’s hand. Javier liked her even more.

He fished a few bills out of his wallet. “Can I maybe stop by after your shift, take you to lunch sometime?”

“You can do me one better than that.” She reached down to grip the lid and spun the cup. He saw her name and seven digits scribbled in Sharpie. “My phone number’s on the cup.”

Javier gave her the eyebrows, very much enjoying how direct she was. It was nice to get a clear signal from a pretty lady, instead of having to play guessing games and worry about overstepping. He pursed his lips and nodded in approval.

“You do that for all your customers?”

“Just the best tippers.” And there was her pretty smile and her wink again, so soon after the first one.

Javier decided to give her both barrels. He put his hand out again, palm up instead of a handshake. When she put her hand in his he lifted her knuckles to his lips and pressed a soft kiss, giving her a look from under his eyelashes before he let go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Javier picked up the cup and left, and gave her a warm smile through the glass as he walked away. As soon as he got to the office he jotted her name and the number on a scrap of paper and tucked it into his wallet. He felt hopeful in a way that he hadn’t for a long time, and he rolled the cup endlessly between his palms while he considered his options. Options. Something he sometimes had taken for granted in life, until those moments where they suddenly ran out.

Javier drained the last of the coffee and then scribbled over her number with a Sharpie before tossing the cup in the trash. No sense in letting her number out into the world where some creep might find it. He smoked his third cigarette of the day out on the plaza and thought about her smile, the brush of her fingers on his, the way she approached him directly. He could use a friend in town, one who wasn’t a guy at the agency or an old college buddy. One who was soft and sweet and might be open to a date… or more. He checked his watch and calculated the hours until 1:00 p.m.

Normally he wouldn’t go back to the coffee shop until tomorrow morning, but it wouldn’t hurt to pop back over there today at the end of her shift, see if she wanted to grab lunch, right? He hoped it wouldn’t scare her off, going back so quickly. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray by the lobby door and jogged back up to his office, taking the stairs two at a time. He wanted to finish up, get this meeting over with, see if he could get over to the coffee shop before she left. He sat in the meeting, watching the clock hands spin slowly, listening to someone drone on about a budget issue that didn’t impact his work, and which could have been a memo in the first place. He felt his irritation creep up the longer the meeting went on.

Finally the meeting closed and Javier hopped to his feet. He told Bill he was headed to lunch and then jogged back down the stairwell instead of waiting for the elevator. He walked the few blocks to the coffee shop, keeping an eye on his watch. He hoped he wouldn’t miss her.

When he got to the coffee shop he opened the door and let his eyes adjust to the dim light for a moment. And then he saw her, slinging her bag over one shoulder and coming out from behind the counter. Javier smiled.

She stopped a foot away and smiled softly, “Hey.”

Javier realized he was still wearing his sunglasses, no wonder it was so dark. He took them off and slipped them into his blazer pocket. He really hoped she wouldn’t think it was weird, him coming back so soon.

“Hey, I’m glad I caught you. Are you busy, or can I take you to lunch today?”

Her face lit up. Good sign. “No, I’m not busy. I’d love to go.”

She gestured out the big window, “There’s a sandwich place around the corner, and a park we can go sit in.”

Javier felt his face split into a wide grin. “That’s perfect.”

---

Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

The only tag list I have: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis

[mypoisonedvine]

Rainstorm (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

credit goes to @princess-of-riviaa for this idea although I think I took it in a slightly different direction than she intended… I hope she won’t mind ;)

this isn’t a “dark fic” in the traditional sense because Bucky himself isn’t very bad (he’s in Winter Soldier mode so he’s no saint, but he’s not a sadist either, just kinda morally ambiguous) but the situation and topics are pretty dark so be wary.  

Summary: the Winter Soldier has basic biological needs.  HYDRA has hypotheses about the hereditary capabilities of super soldier serum.  You’ve been brainwashed into believing that these two goals are your life’s purpose, and that nothing would make you happier than to be at the mercy of HYDRA’s favorite weapon.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: kind of non con* (see below), somewhat painful loss of virginity, mention of blood, captivity and grooming and general HYDRA nastiness

*This is certainly non con because the reader has been brainwashed to comply to orders, but it has none of the trappings of traditional non con fare for the exact same reason.  She’s not gonna resist and she doesn’t want to, it’s just that she lacks, on a greater level, much of a choice.

The scientist made a final adjustment to your hair, putting every curl exactly in its place.  He examined your face before nodding proudly.  “You’re ready.  Let’s go to his room.”

You tried to contain your thrill, following the scientist closely and listening to the echo of your heels on the concrete floor.

The scientist used his fingerprint to unlock the soldier’s door, and as it slid away, you finally saw him in person for the first time.  He was standing in wait, and turned to look at you through the doorway.  Your heart skipped a beat, properly; you were excited to see him, and yet so terrified.  You had been training for months for this exact moment.  There was so much riding on this, and you found yourself afraid that he would be disappointed.

“I have someone here we’d like you to meet,” the scientist informed the soldier.  As you stepped inside, he looked at you with a hint of confusion.  “We understand that you’ve been stressed.  She’s here to help with that.”

The soldier furrowed his brow.  “A woman,” he observed.  He hadn’t seen one in quite some time, at least not this up close.

“This woman represents a lot of money, and time, and research.  She’s not as strong as you, so be careful, but what she lacks in agility she makes up for in obedience.  I promise you, it knows no bounds.”

“She’ll do anything I say,” he realized-- or maybe it was a question.

“She’s eager to please,” the scientist smiled, “and she lives to serve.”

The soldier placed a finger under your chin and you jumped a little before allowing him to move your head side to side as he examined you.

“Is she not to your liking?” the scientist asked nervously.  “We can make some changes.  The hair and outfit can be different.  We figured you would want a… domestic look.”

You tugged at the bottom of your dress, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under your soldier’s observation.  

“No, she’s…” he trailed off and began again.  “She’s beautiful.”

You felt your face getting hot and you shuffled your feet nervously.

“I’ll leave you two be, then,” the scientist nodded before awkwardly stepping back.  “One thing, soldat,” he added, looking the soldier in the eyes.  “Do whatever you need to with her in order to… relax.  We ask only one thing in return: your mission is to impregnate her.”

The soldier nodded and the scientist finally left.  

You felt very aware of the silence in the room as the soldier began to pace around you.

“You were created for me,” he posited.  You nodded quickly.  “Well, get on with it then.  Show me what you can do.”

You dropped to your knees, looking up at him as you palmed the front of his pants.  You felt his cock underneath the fabric growing harder, and you smiled.  

His uniform was somewhat difficult to open but you did your best and finally managed to get his cock exposed.  

You remembered what you had been trained to do and set forth to your task.  You had been programmed to love whatever he loved, get pleasure from his pleasure.  So as his head fell back and his fingers laced through your hair, you moaned with him, taking his cock as deep into your throat as you could fit it.

He was bigger than the men who had trained you, and harder to swallow.  You did your best and earned a groan from him in reply.  The fingers in your hair curled into a fist and the pain of your hair being pulled was unexpected but arousing.  

You used your hand to stroke the parts of him your mouth couldn’t reach.  You looked up and watched him as he watched you, his eyes piercing into you with fiery intensity. 

“Stop,” he gritted out suddenly.  You pulled back and released his cock from your mouth. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you whimpered, “I’ve done something wrong.”

“No,” he shook his head, “I have a mission of my own.  Stand up.”

You obeyed quickly, so quickly that you felt a little light-headed.  

“Take off your dress,” he commanded.  It was designed to come off easily, and with just a few opened snaps it fell to the ground.  “Help me take off my chest plate,” he added, and you stepped forward to begin undoing the straps of his gear.  He watched your nimble, delicate fingers and thought they looked a bit out of place next to his armor.  But you did manage to get it off, and he shrugged his shoulders to help you slide it off his arms.  Instead of tossing it to the ground though, you folded it and set it on top of a nearby counter-top.  

“What did you do that for?” he asked.

“Would you like me not to?” you countered.

“No, it’s fine,” he nodded.

He took off his boots and you set them aside while he shimmied off his trousers.  You didn’t stare at his naked form for too long, because he hadn’t asked you to, but you were sure you’d never seen anything so perfect.  You understood that you were made for him, but now it felt like he was made for you too, in a way.  

He pulled you towards him, pressing his body against yours.  He was so warm, and you smiled as you melted into his embrace.

“Kiss me,” he requested.  You slipped your arms around his neck and leaned in, but stopped just as your face was right against his.

“How?” you asked.  He seemed confused.  “There are different ways.”

“Whatever you want to do,” he answered.  That didn’t make much sense to you, but you didn’t want to keep him waiting any longer.  You pressed your lips against his as your eyes fluttered shut, feeling the stubble on his face scratch you a bit.  His hand held the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delicately beginning to explore between your lips.  You moaned a little against him, savoring his taste.  After all this time, it felt so right to be in his arms like this.  Your life had meaning, your existence had value, and you were so lucky to be here providing whatever he needed.

He pulled back from the kiss and you found yourself chasing him for just a moment before you stopped, meeting his half-lidded gaze.  “Mine,” he said quietly.  “All mine.”

You nodded, biting your lip a little.  

He bent you over the bed, one hand tangled into your hair to hold you up and the other guiding his cock to your entrance.

They had prepared you for everything but this.  They explained that you needed to be untouched here, for him, and that you didn’t have to worry about being good at this part.  All you needed to do was follow his instructions.

“Please,” you begged, “put your cock inside me.  I need to feel you inside me.”

He slipped into you in one motion, plowing through the resistance of your walls and grabbing your hips when he bottomed out.  Pain seared through you but it was irrelevant.  He didn’t take long before he began to pull back and push into you again, and you focused on suppressing your whimpers as you figured he wouldn’t like to hear you in pain.  If he wanted to, he would hurt you more, and you were ready for that if it was what he needed.

“Does… does it feel good?” you asked weakly between shallow breaths.

“Yes,” he hissed sharply.  You smiled, sighing with relief as tears of joy prickled your eyes.  

“I’m so happy,” you admitted, savoring the feeling of purpose fulfilled.  “Tell me how to be good for you.  I want to be good for you.”

He leaned in and wrapped his arms around your body, putting his lips right against the shell of your ear.  “You want to be good for me?” he repeated.

“Yes,” you sobbed, “please.”

“Tell me how much you love it,” he demanded.  “Tell me how much you love my cock inside you.”

“Soldat, I love it so much,” you cried, “it’s everything I ever dreamed of.  It feels so good to be yours.  I love your cock inside me.  I love you.”

He laughed a little, kissing the shell of your ear.  “You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t need to,” you explained, “you’re my mission.”

“You’re bleeding a bit,” he realized as he looked down at where your bodies conjoined.  

“I’m sorry,” you apologized.

“It’s not your fault,” he corrected.  “Don’t apologize.”

You almost apologized again for apologizing, but realized that would be stupid and just murmured out an awkward “okay.”  

“Am I hurting you?” he asked in a way that made you unsure if he wanted to hurt you or not.

“Please don’t stop,” you avoided answering, because it didn’t really matter.

He adjusted his angle so that each movement was deeper, the tip of his cock brushing against something inside you that made you nearly scream from overwhelming sensation.  He was claiming you so thoroughly that you felt like your body was being molded to his shape, just as your mind had been molded to his presence, and it was intoxicating.

You savored every moment of it, hoping it wouldn’t be over soon and you could stay like this for a while-- although you knew a quick finish was a sign of a job well done, so you were a little torn on how to feel.  In the end, you would be satisfied with whatever he gave you.

You’d never been told that you could come, but you were starting to put it together as pressure built inside you, leaving you incapable of suppressing your moans.

“Yes,” you found yourself chanting, over and over, without really meaning to.

“Louder,” he demanded, and you hadn’t known you could get much louder until you did.

“Yes!” you screamed.  

“Beg,” he growled, his own voice growing in volume.  That you definitely knew how to do.

“Please!  Please don’t stop!” you sobbed.  

Even with how loud you were, you could hear the sounds of skin on skin as he pounded into you and you loved it.  You loved the way his fingers, metal and flesh, dug into your hips as he held you down, keeping you from lurching forward from his forcefulness.  You loved the smell of sweat and sex and damp concrete and old leather.  You loved everything about this moment.  

“Fuck, ‘m close,” he grunted.

“Please,” you repeated, your voice nearly going out, “please come inside me, I need it, I need you, I’m yours, soldat, please-- yes!” 

You gasped as an orgasm crashed into you like one of those rainstorms that start with just a sprinkle and then instantly become torrential; thunder, lightning, the whole shebang.  You’d never seen a rainstorm like that, but that’s what you would’ve compared it to if you had.

He moaned loudly when he came, continuing to pump into you until he was sure that he’d spilled every drop.  The flutter of your walls milked his cock encouragingly and it all produced a cycle that you wished could last forever.

“Stay still,” he demanded breathlessly, holding you down even though you had no desire to resist.  “Stay right there, fuck, don’t move.”

You nodded against the pillow.  You listened to his breathing as it slowed, relishing the feeling of his cock pulsing inside you.

He pulled out of you and both of you winced a little, him laying down beside you gently.

“It’s better if you don’t move,” he explained, and you weren’t sure what exactly was better, but you trusted his judgment regardless.  

The bed was small-- it was never meant for two people.  But you loved being pressed against him as he laid on his side and ran his fingers down your back.  It made you shiver, but it made you smile, too.

“Did I do well?” you asked weakly.

“Yes,” he nodded.  

You both caught your breath for a while, and you just soaked in the way his arms wrapped around your shoulders, like you fit together perfectly.  

“Can you handle another round?” he asked quietly after a few minutes had passed.  You jumped up at the opportunity to make him happy again. 

“I can handle anything you need me to do,” you answered eagerly.

He pulled you onto his lap, looking up at you as he maneuvered his cock towards your entrance again.  You sank down onto him and ignored the sting of soreness as your body accepted him once more.

“Yes,” he hissed, “just like that.”

You keened at the praise, arching your back a little more as he pulled you down to lay on his chest.

You felt him holding back a little bit, reacting to your whimpers of pain as his cock pushed even deeper into you than it had before.

“Don’t restrain yourself, please,” you begged.  “I want all of you.”

“I thought this was about what I wanted,” he whispered against your ear.

“It is,” you confirmed, “and I can tell you want more.”

He kissed underneath your ear with a smile.  “I’m afraid I’ll break you.”

“Never worry about me,” you shook your head.

“Ask me for it then.  Ask me for what you want.”

“I don’t want anything that you don’t,” you replied, confused.  He pulled you closer and held you down against his muscled chest. 

“Then ask me for what I want.”

You pulled back from his embrace to examine his face, which was looking back at you expectantly.

“Fuck me hard, soldat,” you begged in a weak voice, “please, I want you to use me--”

Before you could even finish he was grabbing you again and holding you still as he bucked his hips up into you, fucking you ruthlessly.  You cried out with joy as your head fell back, and he leaned into suck at one of your nipples which made your whole body tense up.

“Ride my cock,” he instructed, “show me how much you want it.”

“You know I need you,” you gasped as you followed his command, bouncing on top of him as he released his grip on you to free your movements.  He slipped a finger between your bodies to roughly rub at your clit and you choked.  “S-soldat,” you whimpered.

“Feels good?” 

“I don’t need it,” you explained, “I don’t need anything but you.”

“What if I want you to come right now?  Can you?”

You felt guilt burn through your chest.  “I-I’m sorry,” you cried, “I’m close but… I can’t yet.  I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed, stopping you from riding him for a moment.  “I was just curious.  You don’t need to.”

“Please don’t think you need to do anything for me,” you added quickly.

“I want to,” he assured.  “I want you to like it.”

You almost laughed.  What a ridiculous concept.  “I love it.  As long as you’re happy, I love it.”

He smiled, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss.  “I’m happy,” he whispered, and you started to move again, gasping as you gripped his chest to keep your balance.  

This one was different from the last.  It didn’t make your skin burn or your bones sore.  There was an ache, yes, but a softer one, one that snuck up on you as you clutched his face and he looked at you with an expression that reminded you of how you felt about him.  Like he couldn’t get enough of you, like you were everything, like you were the only thing.

He only asked one thing of you that time.  “Say that you love me again,” he requested in a soft voice.

“I love you,” you told him, and you kept telling him until you were too close to form words anymore and he pulled you into one more kiss, deep and slow and perfect, as you wrapped yourself around each other and fell backwards into the abyss of pleasure.

You laid in silence after that, just holding each other as you waited for your panting to still into slow, meditative breaths.  

You weren’t sure what to do now.  He didn’t seem like he knew, either.

“Would you prefer I keep you company, or that I leave?” you asked.

“Stay,” he decided.

“What would you like me to do?”

“Lay with me.”

You nodded, nuzzling into his chest and letting your eyes flutter shut.

The next few weeks passed relatively quickly.  Certainly faster than any weeks of training had.  There wasn’t much to do but make love so that made up 80% of what you did, the rest going to sleeping and the occasional meal.  One time he taught you about his gun, showed you how to take it apart and put it back together, and you had found it pretty interesting.  Mainly because he was the one explaining it, but still.

You asked him to wake you up before he left for his mission but he didn’t.  You woke up to an empty bed, and you’d think you would’ve been prepared for that after years of it, but just so little time with him had spoiled you.  You cried a bit but got over it quickly, straightening up and deciding you needed to be prepared for his return.  You anticipated that he would need a lot from you after having to work.

You were right.  You had been meditating when he flung open the door, and you jumped up.  He looked so different with all his gear on, including the mask and goggles.  

He stormed across the room, tossing away the coverings on his face and kissing you with an intensity that bordered on rage.  You reciprocated, glad that he had finally stopped asking you for what he wanted and learned to take what he needed.  He seemed to understand now that you could handle it.

It was a fury of tearing at clothes and pulling at hair and biting at skin after that, and you ignored the blood in his hair as you ran your fingers through it.

You frankly had no idea what he was doing when he laid you down on the bed only to slide down and start biting at your thighs, though you had no intention to question it.  As he suddenly licked a thick stripe over your sex, it was like you had stumbled into an entirely new world.  He found your most sensitive places and targeted them with the same ruthless efficiency he approached nearly everything in his life.

He had shown you pleasure that made you melt but this was like something else, something that made you grip the sheets and kick your legs and arch your back.  He had to hold your hips down to keep you from bucking against him, and when the growls he emitted against you didn’t get the message across, he let his teeth graze over your bud.  You yelped but finally stilled-- at least, as best you could.

You were speechless, even as you realized that you should remind him that he was focusing too much on you, that you wanted to make sure he was happy too…

But then again, this was what he had wanted.  What he needed, it felt like.  And who were you to doubt that?

So you let your head fall back as he sent you headfirst into a violently powerful orgasm, enough to make your entire body shake as you made sounds you hadn’t realized before that you could make.

And that seemed to only inspire him to keep going, offering you no reprieve as he kept you suspended in the peak of your sensation.

Tears burned your eyes as you were overwhelmed by him, numbness prickling at the tips of your fingers and toes and even in the places he was licking you.  You were so lost in it that you didn’t even notice he had stopped until he slipped his cock into you, still holding your hips down as he finally fucked you.

He stayed upright for a while before leaning down and caging you in under his arms.  He smelled like gasoline and gunpowder.  

“Mine,” he growled, right against your ear, sending chills over your skin.  

“Yours,” you agreed quickly, your voice coming out broken and wavering.  “Just yours, only yours, please--”

He rubbed that spot above your opening with his thumb again and you wrapped your legs around his hips.  “Ohh, yes,” you whimpered.

He kissed you and where you had found fire before, you found rain.  You felt his suffering, the exhaustion that sank deep into his bones and never seemed to leave.  You felt his guilt for leaving you.  You felt his guilt for coming back.

You hoped that you could kiss him back in just the right way that would say everything you wanted to tell him. It’s okay, you’re okay, we’re okay.

You loved the entire concept of we.  You loved being with him, in any way, although admittedly this way was your personal favorite.  It was the language both of you seemed to understand best.

Just a moment after he pulled back and looked into your eyes, you heard the beeping of his door being unlocked.

He jumped a bit before pulling the wrinkled sheet up over the both of you as the scientist walked in briskly, not even seeming to care that he was obviously interrupting a private moment. 

“Okay soldat, time to go back on ice,” the scientist informed you both mundanely.

“No,” the soldier refused.  “I don’t want to.  I’ll stay awake until the next mission.”

“Not an option,” the scientist shook his head.  “Come on, get dressed and let’s go.”

He sighed as he obeyed, slipping past you and standing up as he found his discarded clothing and put it back on.

“What will happen to her?” he asked, looking at you where you were laying on the bed, nervously clutching the sheet to your chest.

“She’ll wait.”

“You’re going to put her under too?”

The scientist didn’t answer, and the soldier clenched his jaw.  

“You’re going to keep her awake, aren’t you?  So you and your colleagues can keep ‘training’ her.”

Still no answer.

You yelped instinctively when the soldier grabbed you, pulling you up holding you in front of him with a hand around your neck.  You scrambled for footing but made no effort to cover yourself; it was nothing the scientist hadn’t seen before.  You relaxed into the soldier’s arms once you understood what had happened.  You trusted him.  If he hurt you, there would be a reason for it, and you were ready. 

“I’m not going under,” the soldier hissed.  “Don’t come any closer or I’ll kill her.”

The scientist shrugged.  “She’s yours to do with as you please.  It’s no skin off my nose.”

“Didn’t you say that you spent a lot of money on her?”

“We spent more on you.”

“What if I told you that she’s pregnant?”

The scientist’s eyes went wide.  That seemed to get his attention.  “There’s no way you could know that.  Our tests haven’t come back yet.”

“But we both know that she could be.  How much trouble would you get in if the tests come back positive but she’s already dead?”

He pressed his lips against your ear, gripping you tighter.  “You’d die for me, right?  If I wanted to kill you now?”

“Yes,” you nodded as best you could with the metal hand around your throat, “of course.  Anything for you.”

“Maybe you trained her too well,” the soldier mocked as he addressed the scientist again.

“Alright, alright,” the scientist relented, “we’ll meet your demands just… let her go.”

“I won’t go under,” he repeated, “and no one will touch her but me.”

“Of course,” the scientist rushed, “anything.  Let her go, please.”

The soldier dropped you to the floor and you clung to his legs, laying yourself at his feet.  The scientist slinked out of the room, apparently to inform everyone that the soldier would not be going into cryo as expected, but all you could think about was what he had said.  No one will touch her but me.  It was like a dream come true.  You could stay with him and make him happy, he wouldn’t have to leave you, you wouldn’t have to practice on anyone.  You could just be his. 

He knelt down to join you on the floor, wrapping his arms around you.  “Never let anybody near you but me, okay?  You’re mine.”

You nodded, looking up at him with teary eyes.  “Of course.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you like that.  I’m gonna protect you.”

“Whatever you want,” you insisted.  You felt his hand on your stomach and you looked down at it, putting your own hand on top of his.

“They’re going to take it away,” he realized solemnly.  You weren’t sure what to say.  You just wanted him to feel better.  He looked at you and glanced to where you both knew a camera was watching you from the corner, and he leaned in to kiss your cheek.  “We won’t let them,” he whispered.  “We’re going to get out, with the baby.”

You nodded a little, and leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder.  You closed your eyes as he stroked your hair and at some point you fell asleep, and you dreamt of things you didn’t understand-- freedom, choice, family.  You dreamt of a world you hadn’t experienced yet; or at least, one that you couldn’t remember.  He stayed awake, but as he carried you to the bed in his arms and laid beside you, he was dreaming too.

[spine-buster]

peaceful easy feeling ft. b.boeser | two

A/N: Thank you guys for all the positive feedback on Part One!  I’m so happy you guys are enjoying the series thus far.

CONTENT WARNING: parents with disease/sickness (Parkinson’s); swearing; sex; alcohol use; lots of emotions.

                                                                  *     *     *     *     *

Brock Boeser was intoxicated by the feel of Grace’s lips.  It was all he could think about and all he could feel every time he was alone and closed his eyes.  Well, that was a lie – that wasn’t all he felt.  Sometimes he could feel the weight of Grace’s body on his lap, like when they would make out like teenagers on each other’s couches after hanging out or before hanging out or during hanging out – any time, really.  Sometimes he could feel her long hair sprawled across his chest from when they lay in bed together.  Sometimes he could hear her giggle or see her smile or hear her voice being the kindest, most polite and gentle person on planet Earth to everyone and anyone she’d meet.  

For what it was worth, Grace Gillespie was intoxicated by the feel of Brock’s body.  It was all she could think about every time she was alone, and she found herself dreaming about the next time she’d be able to feel it.  His strong arms with his toned biceps; his abs, defined by a work schedule and sport that took up most of his time; his thick thighs…but what she loved most had to be his back.  It was weird for her to say, but it was.  It was the definition – she could see every muscle.  She could trace every bump with her fingertips and make him shiver.  The entirety, all of him, was just so…beautiful.  

It was Grace who had inadvertently given it away, so to speak – them seeing each other – when she uploaded a story of herself at the Canucks season opener.  The rumours started in no time.  The story was screen-recorded and posted on every blog imaginable because Brock Boeser was, well, Brock Boeser.  He was hot, and nice, and sweet, and every girl in Vancouver with even just a passing interest in hockey wanted to hook up with him.  It was also compounded by the fact that in the 90s the Gillespie’s put in a bid to own the Canucks.  Grace just tuned it all out.  Brock Boeser Dating a Billionaire’s Daughter!  Those who loved alliteration must have loved the headlines.  In any case, there were more important things to worry about, and more important things to dedicate her time to.  

Grace was at work when she got a call from Brock.  That meant the team flight had landed and he was probably still at the airport or had just gotten into his apartment.  She liked how her heart skipped a beat whenever he called.  “D’you want to meet some of my friends?”

That question took her for a loop.  “Who?”

“My friend Elias, but we call him Petey.”

“You mean Elias Pettersson?” she clarified.  

“Yeah,” he giggled slightly.  “He’s been fancying himself a chef lately.  He lives with his best friend Svea.  He wants us over for dinner.”

“Is he making Swedish food?”

“Don’t know.  I’ll confirm with him.  But is that a yes?”

“Well, if he’s cooking…”

***

“You told her what?”

“Petey—”

“Boes, I can’t fucking cook!” Elias exclaimed once it dawned on him what Brock had just done.  “Why would you invite her here?!”

“I wasn’t thinking—”

“Clearly not!”

“What’s all the commotion?” Svea asked as she emerged from “her side” of the apartment, hearing the screaming between the two men.  It wasn’t exactly new, to hear Brock and Elias screaming at each other, but it was usually over video games.  This sounded like something different.  

“Brock just invited his new girlfriend over to our place for dinner,” Elias huffed.

Svea furrowed her brows.  “What’s wrong with that?  We’ve been wanting to meet her for a long time, Elias.”

“Brock said I’d be cooking,” Elias deadpanned.

Svea turned to Brock with an emotionless look on her face.  “Are you dumb?!” she exclaimed.

“Sveeeeeeaaaaaaaa,” Brock pleaded, his hands clasped together, about to get on his hands and knees in front of her.  

“You need to fix this Svea.  I can’t – I can’t – I can barely even boil an egg!  What made you think I’d be able to cook a dinner to impress a girl I’m not even trying to impress?!” Elias demanded.

“Shut it, the both of you,” Svea said sternly, raising her hands slightly.  “When is she coming here?”

“Saturday night, after our game against Toronto.”

She took a deep breath.  “I’m going to make sausage stroganoff.  You better bring me a good bottle of wine,” she glared at Brock, “and you better go to the Swedish bakery to get the good Swedish sausage,” she directed towards Elias.

Brock fell down to his knees.  “Thank you Svea.  Thank you thank you thank you.”

“Yeah yeah,” she waved them off.  “Now if you’re going to play video games, keep your voices down.  I’m studying.”

When he heard her shut the door to the den, Brock looked at Elias.  “When are you gonna marry her?”

Elias huffed.  “She’s my best friend, Brock.”

***

“So they’re best friends from Sweden,” Grace wanted to make sure she got everything right before she met Elias Pettersson and Svea Nilsson for the first time.  “But you’re saying they’re in love with one another and don’t know it?”

“Exactly,” Brock nodded his head.  “You’ll see it within, like, a minute of meeting them.  They’re just…I don’t know, dumb.”

Grace giggled slightly as Brock pressed the number for Elias’s floor in the elevator.  The doors shut and soon they were speeding up.  “Does anyone else on your team know about us?”

“Some of the guys I’m closer with do,” Brock said.  “Troy, Thatcher, Marky…they all know about you.  Do your friends know about me?”

Grace snorted.  “I told them about you after that first night at Starbucks.”

Brock laughed, leaning down to give her a quick kiss.  “That eager, eh?”

“When you know, you know,” Grace said.  “You know, don’t you?”

Brock nodded.  “I know.”

That was the beauty of what they had going.  They just fell in to everything.  There was Starbucks, then there was exchanging of their numbers, then there were texts back and forth, and phone conversations, and the rush of everything else.  It was quick but it was organic.  Nothing was rushed.  They were going at the pace they wanted to go.  There wasn’t even a heart-to-heart sit down or discussion about “where they stand relationship-wise” or “Am I into this more than you?”.  It was just…understood.  They knew.  They were exclusive.  Neither was seeing anybody else.  Neither wanted to see anybody else.  It was what Grace knew a healthy relationship should blossom into.  It was what Brock knew he wanted from another person.  

Elias opened the door to the apartment, greeting Grace sweetly before walking them in to the kitchen and dining room, where the table had already been set – no doubt done by Svea, too.  Grace noticed that Svea, the roommate, was the one cooking instead of Elias, and she was absolutely mortified.  She made sure to make her way into the kitchen once Brock punched Elias in the gut about something.  

“Hi I’m Svea,” Svea introduced herself sweetly as she was whisking a sauce in a deep saucepan.  She had on an apron and everything.  “It’s really nice to meet you.  I’m sorry that I look like a mess right now.”

“I’m so sorry – Brock said Elias was cooking tonight because he fancied himself a chef – I didn’t want to put any pressure on you—”

“Oh no no no!  Don’t worry!” Svea waved her off.  “God, are you kidding?  I wouldn’t want Elias to make you anything.  He might give you food poisoning.”

Grace giggled.  “So what’s on the menu tonight, anyway?”

“Sausage stronganoff,” Svea replied.  “It’s a Swedish dish.  Elias’s favourite, actually.  I thought I should make you Swedish food.  You’re not vegetarian, are you?”

“No,” Grace said, smiling from ear to ear.  “Sounds delicious.”

***

“They’re definitely in love,” Grace said once she and Brock walked out of the front doors of Elias’s condo building.  Brock turned towards her dramatically, his eyebrows raised, about to throw his arms up in the air.  “It’s so obvious.  So obvious.”

“I told you!” he exclaimed.  

“Why aren’t they dating yet?” she asked.

“Beats the shit out of me,” Brock said, shaking his head.  “But they’re meant to be together.  It’ll happen eventually.  I just don’t want to wait until I’m, like, forty to see it.”

Grace smiled, and there was a moment of silence between the two as they walked along the street.  “Can I ask you a question?  About things happening eventually?”

“Sure…”

“D’you want to meet my dad?”

The words hung in the air as Brock considered the magnitude of what Grace was asking him.  “You want me to meet your dad?”

Grace nodded.  “I think he’ll really like you,” she began.  “And my dad always, always wants to meet my boyfriends.”

“So you’ve had loads of other boyfriends?” he quipped.

Grace went to punch him in the gut, much like Elias did just hours earlier, but Brock dodged her easily and ended up grabbing her hand instead.  “Of course I’ll meet your dad,” he said, softer this time, as he stepped into her personal space and wrapped his other arm around her body.  “I’d love to.”

“Listen, I know I don’t have to warn you about what you’re gonna see when you get into the house, but—”

“Shhhh…” Brock cooed, bringing a finger up to her lips before leaning down to kiss her.  “When you want me there?”

“How does Sunday Night Football sound?”

***

Brock had never seen such a beautiful modern mansion so big in his life.  He’d trekked up to North Vancouver, to the address Grace gave him, and came face to face with a mansion overlooking the water.  It was stunning.  Fit for a billionaire, Brock thought.  He wondered if Grace grew up in this house or if it was new.  It looked new.  And judging by its style –a bungalow – it was fit for someone who needed access to everything they needed on the same floor.  Someone living with Parkinson’s, of course.  

He rang the doorbell.  After about a minute, the door opened and an unfamiliar face greeted him.  “You must be Brock?” the woman asked, the door still only half-open.

“Yes ma’am.”

She opened the door fully.  “I’m Angeline.  I’m one of Mr. Gillespie’s caregivers,” she informed him, stepping aside so he could step into the massive foyer.  Brock could hear the TV on in the distance and the clinking of some dishes in a faraway kitchen.  “You’ll also meet Dana and Michelle, Mr. Gillespie’s others.  He’s been expecting you.  He’s been very excited to meet you.”

Brock slipped off his shoes, making sure not to drop the bottle of wine he brought (for reasons unknown; it wasn’t like Hamish could drink – it was just that him mom taught him never to show up to someone’s house empty-handed).  “Oh, really?” he asked.

Angeline nodded her head.  “He hasn’t been quiet about it since Grace said it to him.  Plus, he’s a big Canucks fan.  Let me bring you to him.”

Brock followed Angeline through the house until they got to the family room.  It was massive, like everything else in the house, with lots of space.  When he walked in, he saw Grace and Hamish.  Their backs were to him, so he was able to observe them before they saw him.  Grace was sitting right beside him in his chair, holding his hand as they paid attention to the football game just about to start on the screen.  Grace was making some comment about the teams.  Brock could see Hamish turn his head slowly to look at his daughter and nod.  Everything about the set-up – Grace, Hamish, their positions, what was on TV, everything – reminded him of he and his dad.  Even the handholding.  Brock didn’t think he even held his dad’s hand as much when he was a kid out in public than he had the last few months – few years, really.  Duke was really into the handholding.  Brock could never, would never deny him.

Brock was soon snapped out of his trance by the sound of footsteps.  One of the other caregivers walked right past him holding a plate of puréed food, bringing it to Grace.  It was only then that Brock noticed the TV dinner table beside her.  “She likes to feed him whenever she’s here,” Angeline said, noticing Brock’s staring.  “If you need any help you can always call.  We will be somewhere in the house,” she said before walking away.

Brock took a deep breath and walked towards Grace and Hamish.  Upon hearing his footsteps, Grace looked his way.  The smile on her face widened ten times over when she saw it was him.  “Hi Brock,” she said softly, getting up from her seat quickly to greet him.  She kissed him quickly behind her father’s back (quite literally) before moving and settling back into her chair.  “Dad, Brock is here to meet you.”

Brock stepped into Hamish’s line of vision.  So that he wouldn’t have to strain his neck to look up, Brock bent down on his knees.  “Hi Hamish,” he held out his hand for a handshake.  Slowly, Hamish’s hand came up to shake it.  “It’s very nice to meet you.  Grace has told me so much about you.”

“It’s…nice to…meet you…too,” he said, his words coming out slowly but surely.  “You…like football?”

Brock smiled.  “I love football.”

“Minnesota?”

“Minnesota.”

A smile crept onto Hamish’s face.  “Good.”

***

Hamish wanted ice cream, so Grace got up and went to the kitchen, leaving him with Brock as they watched the football game together.  Minnesota was winning, which made her dad pretty happy.  And despite everything, she could tell he liked Brock.  She knew he would – everybody liked Brock, he was the sweetest – but it made her happy knowing that he liked him.  There were some ex-boyfriends of hers that he didn’t like.  Some ex-boyfriends he straight-up disapproved of.  Hamish had strong opinions and vocalized them always, and the Parkinson’s didn’t stop that.  He didn’t create a three-billion-dollar company by being quiet.

When she finished putting the ice cream in the bowl, she began to head back to the family room.  Dana stopped her momentarily to tell her that her dad’s bed was ready, whenever he was tired and needed to change into his pajamas.  Grace thanked her, and before she could even step foot into the family room, she heard Brock’s voice.  “Back straight, Mr. Gillespie.  And let me get the straw.”

She stopped in her tracks so neither could see her.  She watched from the side as Brock took the glass of water her dad had been drinking with dinner and brought it up to his lips, steadying the straw so it faced him.  “Take your time, Mr. Gillespie.  It’s alright.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Mr. Gillespie.  I’m used to this.  I’m not sure if Grace told you but my dad has Parkinson’s as well,” Brock said.

Hamish seemingly forgot about the water and straw.  “He does?”

“Yes sir.  And I help take care of him too, in the off-season.  Just like Grace helps take care of you.”

Hamish brought a hand up slowly and placed it on Brock’s arm that was resting on the arm rest.  “Does your father…ever speak…of his body…betraying him?”

Grace watched as Brock took a deep breath in.  “All the time,” he nodded.  “Ever since he got diagnosed.”

Hamish nodded slowly.  “You and Grace…” he began, “taking care…of your parents.  You’ll…you’ll look after one another.”

Brock nodded again, more assertively this time.  “We will,” he said, bringing the water and straw closer to Hamish.  He pursed his lips to start drinking, and Brock brought his other hand up to steady Hamish’s head and make sure it was as upright as possible.  Hamish’s hand didn’t leave Brock’s forearm.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Hale and Dunbar | Liam Dunbar

Summary: You, a Hale, were born a werewolf, whereas Liam was bitten. You help the new pack member through his transition, becoming more than just his guide.

Warnings: Death

“Scott bit someone?” The information that your brother had just told you was a surprise. He didn’t seem like the type of alpha that would want to create more werewolves, after all, he himself knew how hard it was for the bitten to adapt to their new and changed lives.

“A kid.” Derek said bluntly, closing his car door as he walked towards Scott’s front door, with you hot on heels. “He’s strong, I’ll give him that.”

“And what does any of this have to do with me?” You crossed your arms, glaring at your sibling for an answer, pausing your footsteps momentarily.

“He’s your age (Y/N), and he could use a friend.” You groaned at that, throwing your head back.

“He has Scott, isn't that enough?” Now it was Derek’s turn to glare at you, and he lightly shoved you closer to the door and then knocked.

It was only a minute or two until Scott opened the door, and from his expression, he obviously hadn’t been expecting either one of you.

“Derek, (Y/N), what are you two doing here?” He invited you in, and you squeezed past him as you remembered that the last time that you were in here you were fighting the Oni. Just the thought made you shiver.

“This one needed time out of the apartment.” Your brother earnt himself a growl and a flash of golden eyes on your part as you wandered into the living room, where you saw Stiles talking to a boy you didn’t recognise.

Must be the new beta, you thought.

“Stiles.” You greeted him with a nod, and that was more than enough to make him jump.

“Jesus.” He clutched his chest, not having expected your presence in the moment. “You’re worse than your brother I swear.”

“I mean, I can’t help that your concept of your surroundings is slower than a werewolf’s. But Scott could, but as I’ve been told, he’s already nipped someone.” Your eyes diverted to Liam, he had to be the victim. You could smell the wolf in him, it was distinct. New.

At your gaze, the boy squirmed. You were a stranger, yet you knew all about his forced invitation into the pack, and more for all that he was aware. But he knew that you weren’t a danger, he could hear your friendly - ish greeting with Scott.

“And now, there’s another target on the deadpool. Fun.” You bit your lip, sitting right next to Liam, who watched you attentively. He tensed his shoulders before speaking to you, trying to come across as confident and cocky as he had initially done with the boys.

“You know about the deadpool?” He knew that Scott wanted to keep it on the down low, especially since the benefactor had yet to be found. At his query, you smirked. So new and naive to the workings of the pack and its members.

“I know a little bit about everything.” You spoke, noticing your brother watching you from the doorframe. You sent him a glare, and complied with the reason as to why you had been dragged here in the first place. “Except you. You’re fresh meat that has just hit the agenda.”

There was no way that Liam could keep up his outgoing persona now. Since he was the centre as to why such an attractive girl would come to a house in the middle of the night. You wanted information.

“I - I play lacrosse.” He fumbled over his words making Stiles hide his sniggers behind his hand.

“Let’s skip the basics Dunbar. Who are you really?”

-

They were on your tail, quite literally in your evolved form. The hunters had returned, and were trying to take down all of the packs in Beacon Hills. Satomi’s was near on extinguished, there were a few in hiding, seeing as they weren’t trained to defend their selves.   

But you were, and yet you were still running in the shape of a black dog, avoiding the arrows and bullets that came your way, or at least the ones that hadn’t hit you yet.

The whole town had turned their backs on you, partially because of the Anuke Ite’s influence, but the rest was down the Gerard and Monroe.

There had to be some way that you could lose these stragglers. For sure, you were faster than the lot of them, but you were so incredibly tired from the running and fighting. It was still light out, and the school was in your sights.

Liam would be there, as well as Mason and Corey. You could get help, cry out for it or just damn straight find it on your own accord. If you howled however, it would signal your location to not only the men that were trailing you, but every hunter in training inside of the school. And to say the least, that would not be good.

But you rampaged through the doors anyway, the men would not be permitted to enter with firearms. And if they did, then the sheriff would be called and that would double up the protection upon you.

Liam could sense your presence and quickly ran out of Mrs Finch’s class. He didn’t need to care about what people thought, they had quite clearly already formed their opinions.

He could smell your blood, and so he ran into the girls locker room, realising that was where you had decided to habitat.

The boys locker room would have been a rookie mistake, considering Gabe and Nolan performing as though they were Monroe’s bus boys.

“(Y/N).” He belted as he saw you in your evolved form, trying to lick at your wounds. “Shit.” He breathed, removing his jacket and holding it around you so that you could shift back without being exposed to the cold air. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay, not in the slightest. Even as you transformed back, there was still so much blood, it coming out in black clots. You weren’t healing.

“Li.” You smiled, reaching up and stroking his face that had grown more defined over the time that you had known him. “I knew you’d find me.”

“Always.” He promised, water pooling in his blue eyes as he grabbed his phone and dialled Scott, but the tone just kept ringing, ending in no reply.

There was no time, he reached towards the wounds over your body, unsure of where to start. There were so many holes imbedded and bleeding through your skin, too many.

“I don’t know what to do.” He spoke, he couldn’t ask the school for help, they wouldn’t let you die in peace, they’d ensure you left the world in pain.

“Just stay with me.” With that he pulled you closer. “At least I get to see the rest of my family, it’s been years.”

“You shouldn’t have to die like this, I should do something.” If you left like this, he’d never rinse off the guilt, he’d lose control as he would have lost his anchor.

“If this I had a choice in how my death played out, I wouldn’t change it.” Rubbing your numbing lips together, you grabbed Liam’s hand, frowning as he attempted to remove your pain.

“I can’t take your pain.”

“It’s because it doesn’t hurt.” You sighed, now understanding how Allison had felt when her time was passing. “I’m just happy that I got to know you, that I got to love you. I’ve seen you realise that you aren’t a monster, you’re a werewolf, and a damned good one.”

“Don’t go.” Tears were falling upon your face from his own. “I need you, stay, please.”

“It’s not up to me, just don’t join me anytime soon Dunbar otherwise I’ll have to kick your ass.” A few spluttered coughs left your mouth, along with portions of blood.

“But-“ he has began to speak, but noticed how your eyes were fluttering and your heart was slowing.

If these were his last words, he was sure as hell he wouldn’t make a one sided argument out of them.

[orangefoxes]

Hey, so I've been trying to submit a prompt but it won't work so here it goes I know this will be sad but what if Neil gets really sad and depressed (the reason is up for interpretation ex: bullied by jack or is haunted by PTSD) and so he becomes full of self hate and becomes anorexic and cuts himself #andreil (this would mean so much since I've been through similar circumstances and was strong enough to pull through and keep living, this book and your Tumblr have helped me so much)

Hi @soph-ie21 I am so sorry this took a whopping 4 years for me to post. I’m terrible for not checking my inbox as my notifications have been turned off for tumblr since I was like 13. I’m so glad to hear that you recovered from your ED, you must be so strong and I’m so proud of you as I know how difficult that is to do. I’m hoping this is the sort of prompt you were looking for, if you’re even looking after this long, as it’s not very dialogue heavy, but here you go.

TRIGGER WARNING: EATING DISORDER, SELF LOATHING, ANOREXIA.

When in high stress situations, to cope, the brain releases a hormone called cortisol. It’s alright in small doses, helpful even. It triggers your fight or flight response and readies the body to do something, fast. Constant exposure to the hormone however, has some not so good long term effects. Effects that include, but are not limited to: high blood pressure, heart disease, type 2 diabetes, osteoporosis, and, arguably the mildest, weight gain.

Cortisol results in weight gain for two reasons. The first is because it slows your metabolism, and the second is because the drop in blood sugar from constant high blood pressure means that you start craving fatty, sugary foods, which leads to overeating. Neil’s memory is not nearly good enough for him to recall what foods he had craved over the years, but he and his mother shied away from sweets and chocolate for dental reasons, it probably would have been a hardship for many kids growing up but Neil had never much cared for sugar anyway. However, what he and his mother did indulge in is a lot of fatty, fast food. Partly because it was cheap, partly because it was something they could eat while on the move, and partly because no one would look twice at two sketchy people in a Burger King or remember a beaten up old car briefly pausing in a drive thru.

While never giving much thought to how he looked (short of checking for ginger roots and the bruise on his cheek from where his mother had slapped that smile from his face), Neil does remember his weight fluctuating a lot when he was younger. The more stressful the months, the chubbier he got. It was in the quiet periods as he and his mother settled down and didn’t dare to venture into the supermarket too often that he began to lose it again. It was a cycle.

In Millport, Neil was at his lowest weight yet. There was only a solitary McDonald’s in town and Neil wasn’t about to become a regular. He stocked up on tinned food from the supermarket in his first week in town instead and meticulously made his way through them, heating the can up on the hot plate he had bought for four dollars from the thrift store in the high street.

He gained weight again once he started at Palmetto, he gained muscle mass too. This, of course, was thanks to three free meals a day and a new training regime with daily exercise. It was to be expected, but if, perhaps, he gained weight quicker than his teammates and muscle slower, well, he had bigger things to worry about.

Then he knew he was going to live.

Then everything with the Moriyamas was…well, not gone, but resolved.

That’s not to say there was nothing to stress about. There was the influx of reporters wanting to catch the Foxes’ attention to ask about Nathaniel Wesninski. There was Kevin’s impending break down as Riko’s funeral came and went. There was Aaron’s trial. Honestly it probably would have gone as stressful situations for Neil always go - here and gone just as quickly - except it turns out that Nicky cooks when he’s stressed, and Neil, well, he’s a stress eater.

After Aaron is declared innocent, Nicky resumes as normal. Neil…not quite. He’s constantly opening the cupboards to look for something to eat only to close them again when he finds nothing of interest. Without Nicky cooking, there’s nothing he can easily dig into and Neil, while accumulating many skills over the years, had never been a hand in the kitchen. The only things ready-eat that were consistently in the dorm were ramen and ice-cream. Even the thought of ramen makes Neil want to vomit and Neil wasn’t so desperate that he would resort to eating something as sweet as ice cream. Not that Andrew would let him if he did. (Andrew wasn’t a sharer).

He started to feel hungry.

He was always hungry.

The first few days he started to skip meals, he didn’t even notice he was doing it. Surely he didn’t notice he was doing it.

It’s just -

Here’s the thing.

Maybe he stress eats. Maybe his mother did too. They spent long car journeys with a family sized bag of potato chips resting by the gear stick and they spent half the time stuffing handfuls into their mouths and the other half checking the mirrors for cars that stayed behind them a touch to long. So maybe he stress ate, but it was never because of hunger: it was because of craving. It was because it gave him something to do with his hands. It was only when things quietened down, when the weeks turned long with the monotonous almost-existence that took up the majority of Neil’s life growing up (here’s something no one tells you about life on the run, in between the moments of sheer terror, it’s very very very boring), it was only then, that Neil actually began to feel things like hunger.

So when the hunger pangs began to curdle in his stomach, well, he didn’t mind. It meant he was safe enough to feel the hunger.

Maybe for the first couple of days he didn’t notice it. But then he noticed it.

He noticed enough to avoid things like rice and bread. Danger foods that packed on the calories and that made him bite the inside of his cheek until it bled at the mere thought. He noticed enough that he began to watch the others train and saw their muscles flex and couldn’t help but track their muscle growth and measure it up against his own. He always found himself lacking.

That’s when it started to get worse. If Allison spent 20 minutes on the treadmill. Then Neil would do 30. If Kevin did 40 push ups. Then Neil would do 50. If Renee had a salad for lunch, then Neil would just have a fruit pot.

The first time Andrew noticed that he skipped a meal, Neil just blinked. Being who he was, Neil didn’t do stupid things like stumble for lies and this time was no different. When Andrew asked about him not eating Neil just blinked like he hadn’t even noticed until Andrew brought it up.

He blinked and said “oh, you’re right. I got so caught up in watching exy reruns i didn’t even notice”

He said, “thanks, I’ll grab something in a sec”

Andrew breathed a scoffing breath down his nose, rolled his eyes and called him a junkie. He didn’t look at all surprised, as though Neil was only confirming what he had already guessed. Which of course is the trick all good liars employ.

Neil wondered if he would be surprised if he were to find out how impossible it would be for Neil to forget a meal time. He could never forget. All he thought about was food. It was all he thought about.

Food began to feel like it was all he cared about. Cared about more than school. Cared about more than exy. Is it terrible of him that that more than anything else feels like the worst thing?

And then, as things do, it got worse.

It turned into Neil stood in front of the mirror (looking at his body but not his eyes, never his eyes) and pinching the flesh between his fingers. Noticing every part of him that didn’t harden into muscle like the others. Noticing all the scars that had stretched strangely over a waist and thighs that are no longer as small.

He begins to peck at his food. Rip it into tiny pieces. Andrew looks down at his plate and glowers at him. Neil gives him a cheeky grin. He knows what he’s thinking. That this is just another one of those Andrew-mannerisms that Neil is taking on for himself. Like the sarcastic salutes and the blank, waiting stares. It’s so much easier to hide how little you’ve eaten when it’s all in pieces.

He didn’t know how to explain it. He just knows he needs to be thinner. He needs to weigh less. It’s not about looks. It’s never been about looks. He just needs to do this. He needs to be smaller. It will be alright then. Because then…then…

Well it will be alright then.

So here’s the thing about guilt and self loathing: they’re useless emotions. Andrew would be quick to agree. (Though Andrew is a hypocrite and is chock full of the both of them). His mother would agree too. How many times had Neil slipped poison into someone’s drink, stole from someone just as desperate, shot someone who maybe or maybe-not deserved it? And how many times after that did his mother pinch and prod at him and repeat the same mantra of “don’t you dare let guilt slow you down, you slow down and you’re dead”

Well, Mum, he’s slowed down. He slowed down so much that he’s stopped altogether and guess what? He fucking hates himself.

He replays it all in his head like a terrible loop. The boy in Switzerland that he tricked into taking his jacket so His fathers men would go after him instead. The old women he and his mother tricked into housing them and then slipped something in her tea until she slept and never woke up again. The homeless man who had broken into the house they were squatting in that Neil had shot on instinct. Seth.

Seth. Seth. Seth.

He fucking hates himself. Honestly the hunger pains kind of feel like the best thing he’s ever felt after that. The pain, the ache, he deserves it.

Then it gets worse. Then comes the worst part.

Andrew’s meds change again. The others had begun to make him irritable and he always had an energy crash by about 5pm and a terrible headache. The new ones wouldn’t be of much note as they did nothing groundbreakingly different, short of getting rid of the headaches and not sapping so much of his energy.

Except for one key side effect of the meds.

They suppressed Andrew’s appetite.

More and more Andrew is missing meals. He won’t even eat more than a tablespoon of ice cream. Neil watches him and adjusts himself to suit. He doesn’t know why, but he just can’t be eating more than him, he can’t.

The frustration he feels about Andrew’s meds soon turn to resentment. He hates that he has to watch Andrew not eat and not seem affected by it at all. Andrew lessens his exercise under Betsy’s advice and yet nothing changes. His weight stays the same. He probably even loses some thanks to the loss of muscle. Neil watches and Neil hates. He hates that if he skipped out on training he would pack on the pounds, he hates that his stomach hurt and hurts and Andrew doesn’t spare a thought on food at all.

He starts to avoid the roof. He starts to dodge Andrew’s gaze the same way he does his own in the mirror.

The next time they’re alone and Andrew leans in, more hesitant than he’s been in months, Neil jerks back and snaps “No.”

It isn’t even completely because of the resentment. The majority of it is because he feels disgusting and fat and he can’t bare Andrew touching him right now. Can’t bare him looking at him.

Andrew’s face closes off and he slides back to the other side of the couch. He’s searching Neil’s face, trying to find the misstep, trying to find what he did wrong.

Good, let him think he did something wrong.

Now that’s the resentment.

It’s immediately one of the worst things Neil has ever thought. He remembers sitting, trembling, on the roof, Andrew refusing to touch him saying “I wont be like them, I wont let you let me be”

And Neil’s trying to make him think, wants to make him feel -

Jesus Christ. He’s a piece of fucking shit.

He slams his way out of the dorm and runs and runs and runs.

He sleeps in the locker room and slumps out in the morning so he’s first in the main room for the meeting with Wymack. He sits on a chair that’s as far away from every other seat as it can get while still completing the make do semi-circle around where Wymack usually stands. When the others begin to filter in they take in his new seat, but don’t comment when they see his storming expression.

When Andrew sees him he pauses for a beat in the doorway before continuing to his usual seat on the couch. He stares at Neil blankly, but his hands are clenching and unclenching in his lap. Wymack hesitates but doesn’t say anything. The others play at being uninterested and only Aaron openly looks between Neil and Andrew with a steadyingly darkening expression.

Neil slams his locker and gets changed in the cubicles for the first time in months. He’s vicious in practice. Throwing in as many dirty moves as he can. Andrew stands in the goal and does nothing. When it’s only Wymack’s sharp whistle that stops Neil bringing his racket down on Matt’s arm when he attempts to steal the ball, Neil is benched.

He yanks off his helmet and slumps down on the bench and tries to remember how to breathe through rage.

He’s sat, pinching at the skin on his thigh, for ten minutes before Allison joins him. She holds out a breakfast bar and Neil stiffens.

“Eat, it might help you stop being such a raging asshole,” she says.

Neil takes the breakfast bar and when she doesn’t immediately leave he opens it and snaps a bit off with his fingers.

He stares down the rolled oats and nuts and grimaces at the sticky feeling of the syrup that holds them together. He feels sick.

“Are you going to eat?” Allison says.

Neil looks at her and huffs a bitter breath through his nose. A wry smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

He remembers that Allison battled bulimia for years.

You can’t lie to a liar.

She looks at his face. Concern trying to become anger that she’s trying to force to stay concern. She looks at his face and then over at Andrew, who is stood in his goal watching them as Kevin shouts at him to fucking do something already. She looks back at Neil.

“You know, relationships are hard enough without mental health problems in the mix. Seth and I were a terrible combination for many reasons and that was one them. I’m not saying it can’t be done or that it shouldn’t be done, I’m just saying it makes it so much harder. He used to try to make me eat. I hated him for that. Hated that I had to hide my own habits in my own room. One day, after he stopped me from going to purge one too many times we got into an argument. I said some disgusting things to him. The next day he was in the hospital because of an overdose. He had to get his stomach pumped. You know what the worst thing is? I don’t even remember what it is I said. I don’t know if what I did triggered him or if it would have happened anyway, but it couldn’t have helped. You’re always going to trigger each other at one point or another, it’s unavoidable. But if you know that and you don’t do anything to help yourself…well that’s when every shit thing you think about yourself starts to become true. So tell me, are you a piece of shit that’s going to drag everyone down with you, or are you better than that?”

Neil looks down at the breakfast bar. He still can’t make himself eat it.

He swallows harshly against the lump in his throat. He has to swallow two more times until he’s sure he can talk without crying.

“What’s betsy’s number?” He asks.

Allison doesn’t smile, but she nods like he’s done the right thing and pulls out her phone.

SIDE NOTE: I’d like to point out that Neil is very flawed and toxic in his thinking and Allison is harsh in what she says to him just because she’s a harsh person. If you have an eating disorder I know sometimes help and recovery seems like the worst thing in world and something you really don’t want, but please, please seek help. You can do it.

[djarrex]

Countermeasures || 3

Anomaly

Fives x ofc!reader

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| main masterlist | series masterlist | read on ao3 |

Rating: 18+ only

Word Count: 5.7k

chapter summary: Agreeing to help Fives proves to be both good and bad.

warnings: canon character death, a sprinkle of fluff (Fives can be soft but we all know he’s quite the opposite in the right contexts 😉), a dash of sexual tension, a dollop of groping, tons of inappropriate thoughts - lordy lord get some cold water splashed on them

note: I broke away from including Fives’ POV in this chapter. It may come back in the future, idk yet. This is the first real series I’ve written and I’m extremely grateful for the pals I’ve met on here who reblog and like my work <3 Tbh I’m having a ton of fun writing this because not only does it give me an excuse to watch the conspiracy arc a bunch of times for the details but I also get to write about Renna and Fives and I love them both and I just want them to fuck already.

***

This was crazy. How did you of all people end up in a situation such as this.

By “this”, you were referring to the strong embrace you were trapped in - the ARC trooper you’re shamefully crushing on being the captor.

No, you definitely were not complaining. 

After agreeing to help him, Fives you pulled into his body, his strong arms finding their way around your back holding you steady. Large palms nearly covered the expanse of your back, the heat from his skin burning holes right through your outer layers and into your flesh. Your face was practically smushed into his broad chest, your arms dangling awkwardly at your sides. The weight of Fives’ chin was pressing into your scalp. So many thoughts were swimming in your head as Fives held you as tight as he could without hurting you. 

He was... hugging you. To be completely honest, you thought the two of you would fuck - or at least do something along those lines - before he hugged you. It was the energy he possessed that led you to that conclusion, but you were proven wrong. 

You didn’t fight it - you knew how much it meant to him. These clones - these soldiers - were covered in plastoid from head to toe all day every day throughout their unfortunately short lives, and you figured they must be at least somewhat touch-starved. The way Fives held you was different than you thought he was capable of. You weren’t naïve; you knew the clones took off their armor at certain points, and hey, you knew that they even would have sex in their short spurts of time off. You read reports on clones who had contracted STD’s from their adventurous endeavors and were sent here to be treated. Even though they were created in a lab for the sole purpose of fighting in this ridiculous war, they were still men.

You wanted to keep up some at least some semblance of professionalism - to not touch Fives back, because quite honestly your body wanted more - but your heart started aching, and your body acted against your brain as your arms returned the embrace. 

Fives was thick. The clones as a whole aren’t huge men; they aren’t fed nearly enough - that much you knew - and are relatively slim with a very low percentage of body fat compared to all the muscle they were designed to have. They’re not that much taller than you, either. However, you’ve never held a clone before. Fives’ back was like a bag of ropes; hard, thick, and you felt every single muscle so beautifully poking out of his skin even through the tunic. You allowed your hands to splay out over his back - to really feel him. You were completely lost in this moment, but you heard it - barely noticeable, but you heard it - Fives inhaled quietly through his nose, taking in your hair’s scent. You knew deep down that he didn’t mean for you to notice him smelling your hair, so you didn’t mention it. Butterflies flapped around in your stomach - then the butterflies quickly floated away and that feeling was exchanged with pure lust; the fire in your belly burning hot with desire. 

You don’t know how long you held each other, but you needed to break away from him and get back to the matters at hand. You agreed to help him, and that’s what you’ll do. Maybe he’ll be so thankful for your help he’ll “hug” you again later.

“You do you have a plan, right, mister ARC trooper?” Breaking away from his embrace, you tried to shake your mind clear of any thoughts that didn’t include Tup.

“Of course I have a plan!” Fives’ tone suggested he was attempting to play off what had just happened, and it was cute. He walked over to the darkened window and kept his back turned to you. Perhaps he was trying to clear his thoughts as well. You wouldn’t know, but Fives was barely breathing in through his nose so that your scent lingered in his nostrils for as long as possible.

“Care to share?” You called to him, and Fives paused for a few moments before responding.

“Are you able to access all the equipment without the supervision of the long-necks?” He finally turned around, his brows raised. You blinked at him, just a little dumbfounded and slightly offended.

“Yes, Fives. Maker, I know how to work the kriffing equipment. I don’t need a babysitter.” You rolled your eyes then squinted them at him, crossing your arms to your chest with a huff.

“That’s not what I meant,” Fives chuckled as he approached you once again and placed a hand on your shoulder. “I meant, are you going to get in trouble if you’re working alone in there?” His gaze bore into you, making you feel slightly uneasy. Yeah, you knew how to work everything, of course. But this was all new territory for you; working - unauthorized – on a patient who wasn’t yours, performing an atomic brain scan unsupervised, breaking protocol…

“I- I’m not actually sure. I’ve never been explicitly told to not touch anything without them being there? I think it will be okay. It’s just that- that Dr. Nala Se said no to the scan. I don’t think she’ll like that I went behind her back and did it anyway. Although… I want to try everything in my power to save your friend.”

“Right. Then let’s get to it.”

“I’m sorry - let’s? You’re coming too? That doesn’t seem like a good-”

“It’ll be fine,” Fives quickly interjected. His confident tone faded with the next part: “Please. I want to be there - be there for Tup.” There they were again, those puppy dog eyes that get you every time. You doubt Fives even knows he’s doing it, but he had to catch on by now because you basically have never said no to him in the few short days you’ve known him. Your attraction to him made you break over and over again; this time was no different.

“Okay, fine. But you need to stay hidden.”

“I’m ‘Mr. ARC Trooper’, remember? I’ve been trained in the arts of being sneaky.” Wiggling his fingers and brows at you with a cheeky grin, you laughed and punched him in the shoulder. His grin only grew.

“Yeah whatever. Just follow me.”

You were the first to exit Fives’ room, peeking your head just outside the door to get a feel of the surrounding area. No guards in sight at the moment, so now was the perfect time to go.

“Quickly,” you stepped outside the room, motioning with your hand for Fives to follow. It didn’t take long to get next door, of course.

You pressed the controls on the panel and the door whisked opened; you shooed Fives in first. As soon as he entered, two guards came around the corner. You obviously didn’t want to look like you were doing something you weren’t supposed to, so you put on your best smile and nodded to the oncoming troopers. They nodded back and turned at the next corridor that led away from Tup’s room.

You stood there for a moment, just outside the room - thinking. You were obviously crazy, no doubt about that. You were breaking protocol, and basically risking your internship and everything you had worked for up to this point for Fives (and Tup). It was the right thing to do, right? Your insane crush on the ARC trooper aside, you were going through with all of this because it was the right thing to do. It definitely wasn’t right that the Kaminoans wanted to kill Tup off without entertaining more options and trying other procedures. It all seemed very… weird. As doctors, wouldn’t they want to try every possible way to find a solution without skipping over it all and just killing him? Although, why waste more time and resources when the “obvious” solution was to terminate him and find the answers through an autopsy? Maybe you should give it more time – Shaak Ti could be back soon with the Jedi Council’s backing. Maybe it wasn’t too late to back out – to turn around and coax Fives back into his room before you were both caught.

The moment was over when Fives’ hand reached out to grab your wrist, unceremoniously pulling you into the room. You nearly tripped as he yanked you inside, a murmured “hey!” subconsciously rolled off your tongue at the rough pull.

“Sorry, Renna.” He shut the door behind you, giving you an apologetic smile. “Did- did I hurt you? Sometimes I forget my own strength... I’m not used to manhandling pretty and delicate things.” Okay, let’s push that comment aside and table it for later on when you’re alone in your quarters.

Fives reached out to examine your wrist but you flapped your hands at him, “Really, I’m okay. Seriously.” You weren’t lying - it didn’t hurt. If you told him the absolute truth, you would tell him how you wished he’d manhandle you in other ways.

“Alright. Let’s get to work.”

Knowing how quickly you had to work for this entire plan to play out smoothly, you immediately made your way over to the controls and started tapping away. You turned your head to check on Fives – to see how he was planning on participating – and he was just frozen in place standing over Tup’s cot. Tup was still unconscious; his chest rising and falling rapidly in his comatose, shut eyelids flickering back and forth.

“Fives, push him over there.” You pointed at the scanner on the other side of the room with your back still turned as you tapped away at the screens, prepping the equipment. With one last tap of the screen, the scanner descended from the ceiling and Fives pushed Tup’s cot into it.

Tup’s chest rose and fell at an alarming rate, compelling you to consider - again - about turning back and aborting this plan altogether.

Fives came around the other side of the scanner where you watched the infrared picture of Tup’s brain from display screen, snapping you out of the thought.

“The scan’s almost complete.”

Fives moved in front of you and leaned closer to the screen, you shuffled to the side to give him to space. Your eyes unglued from the screen for just a moment to watch Fives; he was desperate. The look in his eyes told you that much, and his stance wasn’t as strong and sure as it always seemed to default to.

Your focus made way back to the screen. “Everything… appears to be normal.” Just as you said that the screen starting beeping; a red dot was blinking, pinpointing an anomaly in Tup’s brain.

“W- wait a second.” You softly pushed Fives out of the way and read the results displayed on the screen.

“What? What is it, Ren?” Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his little nickname for you, but there were more important things currently at hand. You can freak out about the way he says your name like that later.

“It looks like Tup has developed a tumor.” Your fingers started tapping away yet again. You’ve never seen a tumor in clones before. To be fair, you had never worked with clones like this before, but you’ve seen more than enough of their files to know that a tumor wasn’t exactly something that could just appear in a clone.

“A tumor? Is that even possible?”

“I’ve never seen anything like this in clones. Not in any of the files.” You ceased tapping, turning around to face Fives. His hand raked through his hair, a pure look of confusion and worry on his face.

“Then… what is it?”

“I honestly don’t know. I’ll need to do a biopsy to be sure.” With a nod, you offered a reassuring smile. “It’ll be okay, Fives. We’ll get this straightened out, and you and Tup will be off this stormy planet and back to your brothers in no time.” You weren’t sure you even believed your words.

“You’re gonna take it out of him?” Before you could answer, Fives whacked the tools all over the ground with one graceless hand movement. Your eyes widened as he bent down to grab at the mess. “Do you, uh, think anyone heard that?”

You raised your brow at him, and with a sarcastic tone, “The probability is high, yes.” You sighed. “You need to hide.”

Smacking his hands away as he continued to pick up the mess, you hissed, “Fives, hide.”

“I think it came from this room.” You both shot up; you ran over and pushed Tup out of the tube and started to power it down at the controls as Fives took cover under Tup’s floating cot. Interesting that an ARC Trooper chose that as a hiding place.

The door whisked opened. Nala Se stood at the entrance, looking around. Her bug-eyes landed right on you, then glanced over to Tup.

“Hello, Doctor.” Your tone was astonishingly calm despite the absolute terror currently running through your system.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She entered through the threshold and made her way over to Tup, assessing his condition with a scowl.

“I was only trying to save the patient,” You informed her, keeping your tone calm and professional. You were ignored, however. Apparently, Fives was not so great at cleaning up his messes, because one leftover syringe sat on the ground right below the Kaminoan’s heels. She reached down to grab it, and your heart started racing. You blurted out, “Doctor, I found something unusual in the scan. It appears to be a tumor… I think you should take a look-”

“You performed a second scan without my authorization?” Nala Se stood upright; the forgotten syringe grasped in her three slender fingers. How did she not see Fives down there? Uh oh… where did he go?

Your heart rate slowed. “Apologies, Doctor. I was only trying to-”

“Perhaps I made the mistake in assuming you’d be ready to work with the clones.” Nala Se turned around to shut off the remaining equipment; machines began powering off as they whirled back in place and Tup’s cot moved back to where it was before you started. One of the larger machines floated away, leaving Fives completely exposed. Ah, so that’s where he went. Your eyes widened as you looked between Fives’ shocked expression and Nala Se, who was still turned around and tapping at the controls. As much as you dreaded pressing further on, you needed to buy Fives enough time to make an escape back to his own room.

“But- but the tumor, Doctor. It seems to be blocking neuro-impulses from communicating with the brain. I think we should scan the rest of the clones to see if this is a problem with their base genetic model or a mutation with the current models.” The machines were all now back in place; you scanned the room with your eyes, hoping to not catch a glimpse of Fives.

“There is no tumor. Your scan is incorrect.” Nala Se departed the control panel, ambling over to the other side of the room. You really hope Fives had fled by now. Might as well keep on pressing, though. It did interest you that the Kaminoan doctor was so avidly trying to disregard what you were saying about a tumor. That was a thread you figured you should follow.

“But-”

“This clone clearly has a virus that remains undetected, but I will find the cause once he’s terminated.” You followed Nala Se until she reached Tup’s cot, her back turned to the exit. “Now leave. I’ll figure out what to do with you later.”

“Yes, Doctor.” You turned on your heels and walked out the already open door. You turned your head to watch Nala Se; she was still standing over Tup, but you were unsure of what she was doing. Something really didn’t seem right with this. You nearly crashed into Fives in the hall as you departed Tup’s room.

“I can’t believe they’re going to kill Tup!” Fives shouted in disbelief after you both had made your way back into his room and shut the door. Fives shoved the empty cot to the other side of the room, clearly frustrated.

“I know. I’m sorry, Fives.” All you could offer was a sincere apology. It didn’t seem like a great idea at present to bring up how you thought the entire ordeal with Nala Se seemed fishy.

“We were not created to be disposed of this way!” He slammed his fists on the cot, an action that seemed to be fueled by rage, but his eyes told a different story.

“Just- just think of it this way… Tup is sacrificing himself so that other clones like him can survive. Isn’t that something you said he’d want?” You went to reach for him - to offer a gentle reassuring touch - but he backed away.

“There aren’t others like him!” His raised voice prompted you to take a few steps back. You weren’t scared of him, but you understood they he may need some space right now. Maybe it would be best if you retreated to your quarters and called it a day. After all, Nala Se basically sealed your fate by undoubtedly reassigning you to the archives. It probably wasn’t appropriate that you been seen in Fives’ room anymore. Your own selfishness kept you there, though.

“I’m sorry, Ren. I don’t mean to take this out on you, I just-” You allowed yourself to take a few steps towards him. “Tup doesn’t have to die - you found a tumor. I’m sure that’s the cause of all this. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“But… how can we proceed? Dr. Nala Se basically reassigned me to the archives. I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be here with you anymore. I could get dismissed, sure, but I have no idea what would happen to you.”

“Do the biopsy. I’m sure what you find will prove Tup doesn’t have to die. Your findings would bump you up in the ‘ranks’ I’m sure, and they would have no reason to send you back to filing paperwork.” A beat. “As for me… I’ll be fine.” You both knew that was a lie. You’ve seen what the Kaminoans have done to “defective” clones. It’s all in the files. It’s inhumane. There was no way you’d let that happen to Fives.

“I’m not so sure…. Dr. Nala Se doesn’t believe-”

“We’re not going to Nala Se with whatever you find. We’ll go to General Shaak Ti. She helped me once as a cadet and I know she values the life of a clone.” Now that, that was the truth.

“Fives… I’d be disobeying direct orders.” At this point, you didn’t care what happened to you if you were to go through with this. Fives was who you were concerned with. Not because of a hopeless crush, but because of his status of patient and you sincerely cared about him.

“Yep, and for the second time today,” He jested. Not funny. You scoffed. “Ren…” There they are, yet again - the puppy dog eyes. Those, paired with how he said your name. You’d break for sure. “Will you help me? Please.”

***

“Hurry!” Fives was hunched over the control panel with you, basically micromanaging you even though he had no idea what it was you were doing.

“Fives, you’re going to have to not rush me. I’m not a droid. Give me a kriffing minute.” Your fingers tapped frantically at the screen, hitting button after button until -

“Intruder alert. Intruder alert. All nonessential personnel report to a safe room for lockdown.”

You stood up straight and grinned over at Fives, who looked a little shocked.

“What did you do?” The alert played over again on the intercom.

“I made it so that the security scanners picked up an intruder in section C-6. We need to hurry, though. I doubt it’ll take them long before they realize it’s a false alarm.”

“They taught you how to hack a security mainframe at the fancy medical academy you attended on Coruscant?”

You rolled your eyes at him, hands on your hips. “Is that really important right now?” Fives chuckled and shook his head. Grabbing his wrist, you stretched your head to look outside the door. “They have guards stationed just outside. How are we going to get over there?” You turned towards Fives, who was pulling away from you and looking up at the ceiling. You followed his gaze, and you knew exactly what he was thinking. “The vents?” You sounded a little shocked, but it really was the only safe way out of there. He tilted his head down to look at you, a smile on his face. You snorted.

“Here, I’ll climb up first and then pull you up.” Your looked over at the door again, making sure you weren’t about to get absolutely busted, and grabbed his dangling hands.

You shook your head with a smirk. “You know, I’m starting to wish I had stayed in the archives,” you jested, as Fives hoisted you up and into the vent with him.

You never realized just how creepy it was up in these vents. To be fair, there wasn’t one moment that you would’ve pictured yourself crawling through them, but here you were. It was dark, every movement you made echoed, and it was freezing cold. You – for some reason – were leading the way, crawling through the cold durasteel tunnel. Fives was silent; he wasn’t making any comments, not cracking any jokes, not even expressing his concern for Tup. It dawned on you: he was totally checking out your ass. You had shed your long lab coat before he pulled you up, knowing that it would be harder to crawl with it tugging under your knees. Fives hadn’t yet seen you without it on… and you knew how good your ass looked in the leggings you wore. With a slight chuckle to yourself, you stopped crawling for a moment and looked over your shoulder to glance at him to the best of your ability.

“Fives, are you staring at my ass?” You tried to not let your giddiness get in the way of your accusatory whispering, but you found yourself muffling laughter. He didn’t reply right away – probably trying to think up a comeback or a way to wiggle himself out of the subject.

“Fuck yeah I am,” he murmured back, sounding as cocky as ever. You bit your lip and shook your head, resuming the crawl towards the oncoming exit vent. “I don’t exactly have anything else to look at from back here, you know. I got quite a nice view, so, no complaints.” Your face heated up at his smug comment, resisting the urge to shake your ass for him – to really give him a good view. Now was not the time.

You crawled past the vent so Fives could hop down first; he plopped onto the floor, graceful and stealthy as ever, before standing directly under the vent with his arms held out.

“Common, I’ll catch you.” It really wasn’t a long way down; you’d land just fine, though probably not as gracefully as he did.

“Uh, okay…” You lowered your legs out from the ceiling, keeping your grip on the cool metal for a moment while you steadied yourself. “Fives, I think I got it. I can just hop down like th-” Your grip from the ceiling slipped, sending you down and nearly hitting the floor in the worst way possible, when strong arms found their way under your ass and back.

Fives just saved you from breaking a bone or two, and all you could do was blink up at him as his hand slightly squeezed the plushy part of your ass, the other hand gripped tightly on your waist. Maybe he thought you wouldn’t notice the way he was savoring holding you like that, but you did. And you liked it.

“Nice to look at and feels nice, too.” Fives grinned at you before setting you down on your feet. He definitely shouldn’t be talking about how your ass looks and feels right now with his friend lying nearly dead on the cot barely an arm’s length away - but, is he was open to making comments such as those during these unsure times, you’d reciprocate. A boost of confidence surged through you.

“Glad you like it, trooper. Maybe some time you can see and feel it without these in the way,” you pulled at your leggings, looking him straight in the eyes with a smirk. Seeing Fives’ expression was well worth making the comment.

“Don’t say things you can’t follow up on, Renna.” His shocked expression quickly flipped to dark, catching you completely off guard and making you gulp. Your entire body felt as if it was on fire as tiny fireworks danced in your gut. There was absolutely no way you’d be able to follow up on your innuendo-filled comment unless you found each other in another life under different circumstances. You needed to shake it out of your system.

Firing up the laser drill, you looked over at Fives and studied his worried expression. He looked so soft, so concerned – it tugged at your heart harder than you cared to admit. His focus remained on Tup until the sound of the drill made him look up.

Your hands were slightly shaking. You felt it, but it didn’t appear to be noticeable. You had never performed a biopsy on a real, living, breathing lifeform before. Everything you had done during your schooling was on the deceased or on medical dummies. You were nervous, but this wasn’t about you. You finally had the chance to save a life. You needed to pull it together.

“Renna, are you okay?” Fives’ voice nearly came out as a whisper. You looked up at his eyes; he was studying you, deeply.  

You took a deep breath and nodded with a slow exhale. You turned your attention back to the drill, grabbing Tup’s head and positioning it to where you needed.

“You might want to look away at this part.”

***

You did it. A successful biopsy. Feeling a bead of sweat threatening to fall from your hairline, you wiped it away with your arm and looked up at Fives who still had his eyes squeezed shut.

“Is it done?” The absent sound of the drill encouraged him to open his eyes. You held up the tumor, encased in a transparent casing. You handed it to Fives; he studied it closely, bringing it up to his face with a sigh. The moment was over when the door whisked open.

“What have you done?” Dr. Nala Se came into the room; Fives didn’t appear frightened, but you sure as fuck were.

“We saved my friend’s life.” Fives whipped around to face the “long-neck” - as he calls them - holding up the tumor in an accusing manner towards her, “This tumor is the cause of his illness.” She reached out and tried to grab the encased organic matter, but Fives maintained a hard grip as they fought for it.

“Give me that!” Nala Se looked angrier than you had ever seen her. You ran up to them, trying to stop something before it started.

“You can’t be trusted.” Fives reached down to Tup’s cot with his free hand, grabbing a mysterious syringe, and held it up in a threatening manner. You reached your hands up to stop him, but Shaak Ti’s sudden arrival did the job for you.

“Stand down, trooper.” She stood at the doorway with her hand outstretched. Jedi didn’t need to hold a weapon; you knew what they could do with just one outstretched hand in the blink of an eye. You’ve never seen it in action, but you’ve heard stories.

Fives dropped the hand holding the syringe but kept hold of the tumor with his other. “I have evidence. It’s right here!” He sounded desperate. This looked way too bad. You were caught right in the middle of it all, too.

“I’m free…” A weak voice croaked from the cot, making all the heads in the room turn in the same direction. Tup. Fives let go of the tumor and whipped his body around to face his friend, crouching down next to Tup and leaned in close.

“Tup?”

“The mission… free.”

“What is he saying?” Shaak Ti entered through the threshold, a few guards flowing in from behind her with their blasters aimed at Fives.

“Brother, what mission?” It was apparent that Fives was trying to understand what was coming from Tup’s mouth, and could not care less that his own kind were holding weapons to him. It had been the first time anyone had heard Tup speak words that didn’t sound like “kill” and “Jedi” since his arrival.  

“You… you know the one. The- the mission, the one in our dreams…” Fives’ wide eyes scanned over his friend, searching for a clue, for anything. “…that never ends.”

You were frozen in your spot, taking in Tup’s bewildering words. You watched Fives’ expression as he frantically tried to decipher what Tup was murmuring. You glanced up from them, seeing the guards' buckets turn to look back and forth at each other. The mission - the one from their dreams?

“Oh, brother…” Tup’s hand lifted to the best of its ability; Fives grabbed it with his own and squeezed. This moment was so raw, so emotional, so real. You never would have thought…

“This is the end. Forget the mission.” Tup was fading away. You could hear it in his voice, and you knew that Fives knew what was coming. It looked as though Fives was holding back tears – trying to keep his composure. “Oh, the nightmare. I’m… free.” With that, Tup was gone.

You scanned the room. Shaak Ti bowed her head, hand over her heart. The other clones lowered their weapons down to their sides, heads bowing. Nala Se, however, remined the same. Her expression never changed. Heartless Kaminoans.

Fives was shaking his friend’s body, begging him to come back. “I thought I saved him…” You didn’t know what to do now. Tup was gone, and it was your fault. He was alive until you removed the tumor. Fives was in pain – mourning for his brother because of you. You took a few steps back, and leaned against the counter, your fingers combing through your scalp. Not only did you disobey direct orders twice today, but you also killed the very first lifeform you did a biopsy on, and to top that off, the patient you killed was important - a brother - to someone you deeply cared about.

***

Fives was placed under arrest just shorty after. Tup’s body wasn’t even cold yet.

You stood there in silence; Fives locked eyes with yours as he was almost forcefully escorted out of the room by the surrounding guards. It was clear that both of you were trying to communicate with the other using only your eyes, but no distinct message was coming across. You wanted to tell him you were so sorry for everything, and that you’d miss him, that you’d never forget him and Tup, and that meeting him changed your view of the clones entirely. But, there were no final goodbyes, no condolences given. Fives would be taken away, and you would be dismissed. You’ll miss Fives with all your heart, but you won’t miss Kamino.

General Shaak Ti followed behind the guards, leaving you in the macabre room with Dr. Nala Se and Tup’s lifeless body. It was silent for a moment before Nala Se looked over to you, shaking her head in disbelief. You were in big trouble.

“Miss Renna,” the long-neck approached slowly, closing the gap between where you were hunched forward over the counter resting on your elbows and where she was covering Tup’s body with a sheet. “I can not condone this type of behavior from an intern. I have no choice but to reassign you to your previous duties in the archives indefinitely.” You were not at all surprised. You nodded slowly, still not looking up at her. You felt numb. Only three days into real field experience, and you fucked up royally. You didn’t need to help Fives, resulting you in ending up in whatever this is. It was interesting that you weren’t dismissed like you’d assume you would be – just reassigned. The thing with Dr. Nala Se acting weird when Tup’s tumor came into play still was on the front of your mind; perhaps you would be able to look into these matters during your long, boring hours in the archives.

Finally looking up at Nala Se, “What… what is going to happen to my patient?” The words nearly came out choked as you tried to hide your worry for Fives. You needed to keep up the front – the professionality of it – so no suspicion would arise. She was scrolling through a datapad, clutching the tumor in her three fingers. The tumor. You tried to study it from afar - what it looked like, the coloring, how the cells neighbored inside it. It looked... dead. Depleted. You snapped your eyes away and over at the dead trooper, whose body was now completely covered by a thin sheet, when Nala Se spoke again.

“Do not worry about ARC-5555. It will be taken care of, so we can put this matter behind us. Just be thankful I didn’t dismiss you, Miss Renna. You are too valuable to replace with some other eager intern.”

Valuable? ‘It’? Taken care of?

“I am thankful, Doctor. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” You were motioned to exit the room; as you walked by Nala Se, you caught one last glance at the tumor, attempting to burn the image of it in your brain and commit it to memory. There was something about the tumor – something that prompted strange behavior from the Kaminoans – and you needed to figure out what that something was.

***

tags: @bvcketfvcker​ @deewithani​ @chromia7567 ​ @cyaniderainfall

[newsatsix1986]

The prop department behind this show are incredible.

Not only did they truly make the magazine which Helen and Dale were doing the photo shoot for - the Australian Woman’s Day, they properly wrote an article to go along with the photos.

It took a lot of very close deciphering, but I was able to write down as much of it as I could. I hope it makes sense to you all. It’s adorable and romantic - discussing the first kiss, their Russell Street worries, Helen and Val becoming close that day, and how they knew that they found the other person quite attractive.

Happy reading, friends xoxo

Page One:

Title: Glamour, News and Romance - The Golden Couple of News.

There’s romance in the News At Six newsroom, and everyone is watching.

They are the celebrity couple that has set Melbourne ablaze.

From their luminous first kiss that eclipsed a comet, to chasing the Chamberlains in steamy Darwin, to their love galvanising in the wake of the Russell Street Bombing - Dale Jennings and Helen Norville’s romance has blossomed before our eyes.

We sat down with the golden couple of news to get an exclusive sneak peek into the lovers’ lives.

Every day as Melburnians wake, Dale is already in the newsroom; focused, primed, combing through the latest stories.

As a part of the hard-working News At Six team, he never quite knows what his day will look like, where he might be sent at the drop of the hat.

The one constant of his working life? When Helen Norville strides into his office, his heart skips a beat.

“It’s always an event when she arrives,” Dale tells me, laughing. “Heads turn, every time.”

We’re sitting on spacious lounges on the hot new cafe in Fitzroy, Arrondissement X. Sitting beside him is Helen, carelessly gorgeous in a mauve and teal blouse with puffed sleeves and a pleated grey skirt. She slaps Dale’s arm, bashful, then nuzzles closer to him.

“It’s true!” Dale continues. “There’s a magnetism about her. An energy. She just lights up the room.”

But for Helen, it’s Dale who has that certain je ne sais quoi. And whatever it is, it’s ruined her for other men.

Dale’s unlike any other guy I know,” she says. “He’s warm and kind, but also driven and strong. And he’s a great listener. When you’re talking to him, you feel like you’re the only person in the world.”

The story is legendary now. Dale was Helen’s surprise date for Geoff Walters’ 60th birthday party the night Halley’s Comet passed overhead.

We were denied a good look at the comet, but partygoers received an even more spectacular view.

It was on that balmy February night; rubbing shoulders with Melbourne’s elite amidst a once-in-a-lifetime celestial event, that Dale kissed Helen for the very first time.

“It was a surprise, to be honest,” Helen professes. “I’d invited Dale as a dear colleague, but when he kissed me something just clicked. It felt totally right.”

And despite how picture perfect the moment was - with half of Melbourne’s press just a few faces away - Dale insists it was completely unplanned.

“It was just a spur of the moment thing,” he tells me. “I mean, I didn’t think Helen would go for a guy like me, but she looked so stunning. I thought, “Come on mate, what are you waiting for?”

So began the romance that has captured the hearts of viewers across the nation.

But what events led to that magical moment? To date, Dale and Helen have been cagey about the origins of their romance...until now.

“It really started when Dale was assigned to produce me.” Helen explains. “It’s no secret that I’ve gone through a few producers in my time, blokes who didn’t take me seriously as a journalist. I knew right away that Dale was different. He wanted to work with me, not over me.”

“Helen had really bold ideas for special reports,” Dale adds. “I was drawn to her passion like a moth to a very glamorous flame.”

Page Two

These reports have now become a Monday evening staple - and one of the biggest ratings draw for News At Six.

It’s clear Melbourne can’t get enough of the romantically-entangled reporting duo - a dynamic that crystallised when Dale reporter live from a scorched Russell Street on 27th March.

Viewers the state over shared with Helen’s fear for Dale’s life, and her relief she felt when she saw he’d made it out unscathed.

“It was one of the most stressful days of my life.” Helen says, clutching Dale’s hand in hers. “Not only did we experience an awful attack on our city, there were hours where I didn’t know if Dale was safe. My feelings for him crystallised in that moment. I knew I loved him. Deeply.”

“Absolutely. Same for me,” Dale echoes. He grows solemn and his eyes glaze over - clearly reliving the horrific events of that day. In a strange way, it was the perfect moment for them to say “I love you.” It was the first time Helen met Dale’s mother! “We’d arranged a dinner for that night!” Helen says. “Of course, that got put aside. But she and I grew close that day.”

So how is our newly-minted media royality adjusting to life in the spotlight?

“It’s been strange getting used to it all.” Dale admits. “I get stopped in the street now - not as much as Helen, but blokes recognise me at the pub.”

But for the most part, it’s business as usual.

“We work hard, we’re passionate about what we do, and we’re passionate about each other,” Helen says.

I can’t help but ask Helen, “Is Dale as passionate in private as he is in public?”

She giggles, as Dale goes red. “Let’s just say we have no issues in that department,” she says, winking. It’s enough to bring the temperature in this cool French bistro up a few degrees!

As Helen steals a kiss from her blushing beau, I’m reminded of the couple’s enduring appeal. Who wouldn’t invite them into their living room of the evening?

While Geoff Walters has announced his imminent return to the desk, his recent health scare has shown the veteran newsreader is not as invincible as he previously seemed. I ask Dale and Helen if we might see them together on the desk, someday soon.

“Oh, we haven’t even moved in together yet!” Helen laughs. “Right now, we’re focusing on supporting each other to do good work and keep Melbourne informed.”

The couple are admirably humble about their ambitions. All the while as I wave them goodbye and watch them walk down Brunswick Street arm in arm, it’s hard not to think of them as the future of news; young, smart, totally in love, and with the whole world at their feet.”

Episode Six - Chernobyl (and a sweet magazine article)

Edited to include the full story! Thank you @dontwanderoff for linking me to the full article on Twitter!

[alwaysmychoices]

I’m replaying book one and I was thinking what if Ethan had turned up to their housewarming party? Feel like doing a head canon/Fic ? 🤩

“House Party”

Synopsis: Tonight, Charlie and her friends are throwing a house party to relax after a tough week at work, and all Charlie wants to do is relax and have fun. She never expected to see Ethan Ramsey at the party, and she certainly didn’t expect to spend the night talking on the roof with him...

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Charlie Greene) (prequel to A Weekend w/ Dr. Ramsey Series)

Choices Story: Open Heart (set during book 1 house party)

Rating: Teen

Words: 3.5k

TW: discussions of workplace sexism

Thank you for this ask! 

Ethan Ramsey didn’t attend parties, and he certainly never attended intern parties.

So, why was he making his way through a crowded hallway to this one?

He was asking himself the very same question. Of course, it was Naveen’s fault. Only a few hours earlier, they’d been sharing dinner in Ethan’s apartment. Over a glass of brandy, Naveen ordered Ethan to attend. Ethan initially refused, but with enough pressure, Naveen succeeded in manipulating his friend into attending.

Naveen said that he wanted Ethan to make more friends in the hospital, so he should go. Ethan suspected Naveen was up to something, but he hadn’t figured out what.

The second Ethan stepped through the apartment’s front door, he felt old.

Almost everyone was at least a decade younger than him. They moved through the crowded space with ease, and they stared at Ethan with apparent displeasure and shock. Ethan didn’t recognize the song playing or even the drinking games happening around the room.

He shouldn’t be here.

He resisted the urge to run away as fast as he could.

He could see whispers ripple through the party. Everyone knew he was here anyway. He was determined to stay for a while just to prove himself.

Pushing past a group of drunk pediatric interns, Ethan searched for the bar. He knew that the alcohol would be cheap, but he hoped it would be strong enough to ease his discomfort.

He didn’t recognize most of the attendees. Most of them were residents from other departments. The few attendings were young and interacted with Ethan rarely. He knew the nurses but only professionally, so he felt strange walking up to them now.

Ethan wondered who lived in this apartment. Should he be greeting them? Was he supposed to bring a bottle of something to thank them for their hospitality? Were they his interns? Would it be weird if he talked to them here?

Speaking of interns, he saw one of them.

His favorite, arguably.

Charlotte Greene.

She was in the middle of the room, surrounded by a crowd of people that seemed to adore her. Like the rest of them, Ethan felt captivated. Outside of work, she was different. Softer, more confident. Less afraid, certainly.

And… well, beautiful, too.

He already knew she was beautiful. Even sleep-deprived and dressed in frumpy scrubs, she was pretty. But nonetheless, seeing her so stunning now was shocking. He almost felt guilty for the thought. Like his mind was overstepping some professional line – a line that frequently felt faint with Charlie.

He liked her too much.

She was too similar to him. Too talented. Too promising. Too kind. And far too friendly.

She was dangerous but in a way that was easy to keep away.

But tonight, as Ethan approached her in a crowded party, she seemed… enticing. Impossible to ignore. He couldn’t stop staring. He even had an urge to talk to her.

He was close enough now that he could see the man standing next to her.

Bryce Lahela. A surgical intern. Very promising from what Ethan’s colleagues said.

And he was all over her. Lahela’s arm hooked around Charlie’s bare midriff, keeping her pulled tightly against him. His fingertips dug into her skin, squeezing her skin as he whispered into her ear. She bit her lower lip as she listened, and he finished whatever he said with a kiss on her lower jaw.

Ethan hated it. He didn’t want Bryce to flirt with Charlie, and he didn’t know why. Eventually, he likened it to some sort of protection instinct – like he wanted to protect Charlie from the wiles of some lothario.

Not that she needed his protection.

Or wanted it.

Charlie Greene knew precisely what she was doing. This was her party, and Bryce was her man for the evening. Though if Bryce wanted to skip out on their friends with benefits arrangement, she doubted she would have trouble finding someone to replace him for the night. Charlie never got to do this. She was always working. She never got to put up her hair, put on a push-up bra, and expose her skin. It was the first time since she moved to Boston that she got to have fun like this, and she was determined to do it all.

And she was.

She was the woman of the night. In her tight jeans and skimpy top, she knew she was hot. And finally, after months of ill-fitting scrubs and stressful work, she got to be hot!

Finishing off her beer, Charlie whispered her goodbye to Bryce and smoothly exited his arms to get herself another drink. She congratulated herself as he watched her walk away.

Everything was amazing.

She forgot she was an intern. She forgot about her tough job and her long hours and her shitty boss.

Until she saw him.

Charlie felt the color drain from her face as she came eye-to-eye with her boss from hell, Dr. Ethan Ramsey.

She was frozen.

She couldn’t believe it.

He was here?

He couldn’t be.

He wouldn’t go to an intern party! Who had even invited him?

As Charlie stared at him, she realized she had been frozen hunched over the beer cooler, meaning she’d been showing him her cleavage the entire time.

She felt like she was going to throw up.

He was walking towards her.

Why???

Suddenly, Charlie did not feel hot anymore. She was an intern again – and a frightened one at that. She felt exposed and embarrassed. And so fucking angry that her night had been ruined and that he might hold this against her forever.

All she wanted to do was feel hot! Not be held responsible by a sexist man for the rest of her residency!

“Dr. Greene,” Ethan greeted her and regretted it immediately. Why was he so formal?

It was really him.

Charlie stared at Dr. Ethan Ramsey in all his glory. Annoyingly handsome, as always. More awkward than usual. And thank God, not staring at her cleavage.

“What are you doing here?” Charlie blurted out.

Ethan was taken aback.

He didn���t know what to say.

“I was just-“ Ethan began but was cut off by Charlie.

“You shouldn’t be,” she said, the emotion high in her voice.

She didn’t trust herself to stay around him.

She was upset. Her night felt like a mirage, and the façade of the confident, hot girl had slipped away. She was angry and sad, and she just wanted to get away from him before he committed her skimpy outfit to memory.

She remembered the last time a male superior ran into her when she was dressed like this.

It had been her research professor. She saw him at a bar, and the look of disgust and disappointment was burned in her memory. He never treated her the same. From that point on, she was just a silly girl. He never gave her the good projects, nor any accolades. She moved to another lab at the end of the year.

Dr. Ramsey wouldn’t be the first man to allow sexist ideals to ruin her career. He would just have more power to do it.

Tears welled in her eyes.

She had to go.

Without another word, Charlie marched off, disappearing into a confused crowd that looked at Ethan with suspicion. They all wondered what he had done to her.

And Ethan wondered what he had done to her…

The sting of rejection prickled at his skin. Maybe he should have known that she hated him. He felt… silly for thinking otherwise. He was, after all, their evil, demanding boss. What had he expected?

He never should have come.

Ethan no longer felt the need to prove himself by staying at the party.

He wanted to go and give Charlie her party back.

Ethan tried to avoid others as he crept out of the party, but they stared anyway.

He let out a breath of relief when he made it out the front door. Seeing the line by the elevator, he headed towards the stairs.

He never expected to find Charlie.

There she was. Just trying to be alone in the stairwell, planted on the third step up as she tried to control the urge to cry. Once again, Ethan had found her in a place he was not wanted.

Now, it was his turn to freeze.

Should he leave without saying something? No, that felt wrong when she was visibly upset. But he knew she didn’t want to see him. She made that clear. What was he supposed to do?

Knowing it was probably the wrong decision, Ethan took a step in Charlie’s direction and said, “Are you okay?”

Charlie’s eyes snapped to him, suddenly alerted to his presence. The pain in her face shifted to disbelief. Was he everywhere now?

“No!” Charlie snapped, too shocked to control herself, “Men like you lose respect for women like me the second they see her as anything other than professional and virginal, and forgive me if I needed to leave so I don’t have to watch my career slip away because of a revealing shirt!”

Ethan wasn’t surprised she yelled at him. Frankly, he expected it the second he opened his mouth. But he was surprised at what she said.

He had never even thought of that.

Of course, he had thought of the revealing shirt – a thought he wasn’t particularly proud to have. But if he was disappointed in anyone, it was in himself. She was entitled to dress however she wanted outside of Edenbrook, and it no bearing on her performance. She could be a competent doctor no matter what she did in her free time.

“Charlotte, your clothing – and anything else you do outside of Edenbrook – have nothing to do with your competency as a doctor. It would take a true misstep for you to lose my respect, and I’m sorry if I gave you any impression otherwise. You shouldn’t have to fear that,” Ethan apologized earnestly.

He wondered who had mistreated her along the way – what sexist man had used his position of authority to impose his ideas of women’s role in society. He wasn’t sure what he could or should say. He couldn’t relate to the experience, and he didn’t want to cheapen or misrepresent it by trying to seem like some kind of savior.

An awkward silence followed as Charlie wrestled with his words.

Against her better instincts, she believed Ethan.

And even though the threat had passed, the overwhelmed feeling lingered.

“Well…” Ethan ventured, “Enjoy your night. I was just leaving.”

She didn’t know why she said what she said next.

Maybe she was thankful for reassurance. Or she felt bad for ruining his night.

Whatever it was, she said, “You don’t have to.”

Ethan was sure he didn’t hear her right.

“What?”

“You don’t have to go,” Charlie explained, her arms wrapping around her knees as she tried to soothe the remaining fear in her chest, “We’re okay, so you can stay, if you want.”

Ethan thought it over, imagining the party left inside. He couldn’t stomach stepping back into the spotlight, and if he was going to drink alone, he’d prefer to do it in his own home.

So, with a polite shake of the head, he said, “I don’t think so. I’m not sure if the rest of the party would agree with you.”

Despite herself, Charlie cracked a smile.

He was probably right. She knew that if her friends knew she was inviting Dr. Ramsey back inside, they’d never forgive her.

But something inside her begged her to not let him go.

She didn’t want to be alone, and somehow, Dr. Ramsey ended up being the person here with her.

“I’m going to the roof,” Charlie announced, “You can come. I’ll bring alcohol if that makes it better.”

“You want me to come?” Ethan was shocked.

He liked Charlie, sure. He even thought that she could be a mentee one day, but he never expected she would invite him to share a drink on a roof. Was this something he should say no to? It crossed a line. But looking at her now, he felt like he couldn’t leave her alone.

So, against his better judgment, he agreed.

He had so many opportunities to back out.

But 10 minutes later, he was up on that roof with her, staring at the Boston skyline with a beer in hand. In the dim glow of night, Charlie was even more beautiful than before. Vaguely, he registered that he had never been in a setting this intimate with her. Something about that frightened him, but like all the times before, he didn’t know why.

He didn’t understand the pull to her, nor did he understand the accompanying fear.

A breeze interrupted his thoughts, bringing with it a gentle chill. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Charlie shiver.

On instinct, he slid out of his leather jacket, and he offered it to her.

Charlie stared at the jacket with mistrust. Why was he giving it to her?

“You look cold,” Ethan explained.

“Are you just trying to hide my cleavage or something?” Charlie blurted out, and she regretted it instantly. Her cheeks flushed a bright shade of red, and she promised herself to never talk about her breasts to Ethan Ramsey again.

“No, you’re shivering,” Ethan chuckled.

Chuckled.

He was amused.

Charlie was both shocked and relieved.

And instead of acknowledging either, she took the jacket and accepted its warmth.

Another silence.

“So, why did you come tonight?” Charlie asked, deciding to satisfy her own curiosity.

“A friend insisted I come,” Ethan answered vaguely, taking a sip of his beer.

“If you have a friend in there, why did you look so confused then?”

“Oh, they didn’t come,” Ethan seemed humored by the idea of Naveen forcing him to come but ignoring the party himself.

“But they made you?”

“Yes,” Ethan affirmed.

Charlie hummed her confusion but asked no more questions.

“We’re throwing the party because it’s our first real night off,” Charlie explained, “And we wanted to make some friends who could commiserate with us. Every day, I feel more and more like a terrible doctor at work, so a successful party was supposed to improve spirits.”

“Terrible doctor?” Ethan repeated incredulously, and he scoffed, “No, you’re not. Young, yes. Inexperienced and naïve, of course. But you’re a good doctor. I knew you would be when I read your file.”

Charlie blushed, “You read my file?”

“You read my book!” Ethan tried to defend himself.

Charlie just smiled wider, and she averted her eyes to the skyline, trying to appreciate the fact that her hero not only read her file but approved of it. This was something out of a med school dream.

“You’re pretty far from home,” Ethan added. However, he released belatedly that he probably shouldn’t be so obvious with remembering the details of her residency application, “Not that I would have guessed. You don’t have much of an accent.”

“You look exactly like the kind of guy who grew up in Rhode Island,” Charlie teased.

“You know where I grew up?” Ethan was smiling, too. Like this was all some game where they admitted to knowing everything about the other. He felt close to her and free to say things he normally wouldn’t.

“Your bio is in your book.”

“Yet you didn’t know what I looked like.”

“I read your bio. I didn’t ogle a book jacket,” Charlie rolled her eyes.

Ogle. He was worth ogling?

“Besides, North Carolina is only a flight away,” Charlie insisted, just like she had to her mother when she moved to Boston a few months ago.

“Oh, and do you have winters in North Carolina?”

“We have mountains!” Charlie insisted, looking affronted, but she was still evading the question.

Amused, Ethan pressed, “And did you live in those mountains?”

“… No, I didn’t,” she confessed, “But to be at Edenbrook, I’ll brave any winter – no matter how cold and bitter.”

Ethan smiled. He liked her dedication, though he would also be entertained to see her trudge through the deep snow for the first time.

As they talked, Ethan began to see Charlie as more than a promising intern. He could see her on his team one day, by his side on cases. Her insight, though needing refinement, was rare. With his mentorship and connections, he was sure she would become something amazing – probably even surpass him.

They talked for what felt like forever. They both left a sip in their beer, not wanting to end the conversation by finishing their drinks. They talked about Boston, Edenbrook, their respective alma maters, and Ethan’s experience as an intern.

They weren’t best friends by any means, but… maybe they were friends?

Or at least they were acting like friends…

And there was a moment at the end of the night when they felt like… more than friends.

Finally giving in to the night, Ethan was walking Charlie down the stairs, and they were discussing their med school days. They were nearly at the door, and Ethan looked down at Charlie, watching as she laughed and told him a story about her sleepless nights in medical school. With her head tilted back and her eyes alight with humor, she looked… so beautiful.

Unbearably beautiful.

And all those dangerous feelings started bubbling up.

He liked her. He liked the intern. As a person and as…

Oh no.

He was trying to block out the thoughts as quickly as they came, but the urge was harder to ignore.

As they stood on the landing, looking straight at each other as Charlie finished her story, Ethan wanted to kiss her. He wanted to taste the lipgloss on her lips. He wanted to feel her soft, blonde hair in his hands. His thoughts were consumed with her.

And he was leaning closer.

He was too close.

Charlie noticed, vaguely.

She was still talking, but she didn’t care what she was talking about.

Because… she wanted to kiss him, too.

And when he finally stepped back, snapping them both out of the moment, she felt disappointed.

“I should get going…” Ethan said, talking mostly to himself.

“Yeah,” Charlie agreed, her voice soft as she tried to hide her dissatisfaction. Why didn’t she want him to go? “I guess I’ll just see you at work then.”

Work.

They worked together.

Ethan was her boss.

They both knew better.

“See you then,” Ethan nodded his goodbye, too afraid of his own impulses to give any other kind of goodbye.

As he walked down the stairs, Ethan thought to himself that Charlie Greene was very dangerous. He would need to be careful around her. Even if he didn’t want to…

From inside his cab, Ethan texted Naveen that he went to the party but that it was a failure of a night out. Yet, as he typed it, something inside him said that wasn’t true.

Charlie walked back to the party silently, wishing she was still back on the roof.

She felt ridiculous.

All she’d wanted was to be a hot girl in a crowded party, but now that she stood in the crowd again, she longed for the quiet company of Dr. Ramsey, a thought she never imagined she’d have.

“Where have you been?” Bryce called out, a drink in hand. A girl stood next to him, one he’d probably been flirting with only moments before, but he left her behind in favor of Charlie.

There were perks to their arrangement. Even if they were never going to be romantic, it was nice to have someone to pick you. But it didn’t bring her the usual comfort. Because Bryce was just casual sex. Most of their hookups were in the early hours of the morning when they hadn’t showered in days. All of their other interactions were just friendly.

They didn’t make her feel like she did on the roof.

“Oh, I ran into Dr. Ramsey, and we were talking,” Charlie tried to make it sound casual, and it was casual, wasn’t it? They were just talking, so why did it feel bigger than that?

“Boooo,” Bryce jeered, “Ugh, I can’t believe that jerk even came.”

“He’s really not that bad,” Charlie stood up for him instinctually, something she would have never done only a few hours ago.

“Ooooh,” Bryce grinned, “Do you like Dr. Ramsey?”

“No!” Charlie insisted defensively – too defensively.

“I think you do!” Bryce teased.

“The only doctor I want to sleep with is you,” Charlie asserted, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around Bryce’s neck.

Instantly forgetting his teasing, Bryce looped his arms around Charlie’s waist and pulled her flush against him, “Oh?”

“Mmmhmm,” Charlie murmured, her breath hot against his lips as she leaned in for a kiss.

“How about another drink and then back to my place?” he whispered, biting Charlie’s lower lip, and she agreed.

As she shared her final drink with Bryce and danced with her friends, Charlie was able to enjoy the rest of her night.

But something had changed. Something so small that she wouldn’t appreciate the significance for quite some time. But the thing was… she still wished she was back on the roof with Ethan.  

A/N: I hope you liked this. When I started, I was super excited to go back to pre-Weekend with Dr. Ramsey and show some of the FWB with Bryce, but when I introduced the sexism plot, I got nervous. If this was done poorly or you think it just came off weird, please let me know and I’ll go back to it. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. Maybe I’m just too nervous because I loved the idea when I started, but once the writing started, I became worried.

But if you’re interested in prequel stuff, hmu! Also, my asks are open for cool ideas like this! 

[sombreboy]

The heist p.1 ♕ yandere!OT7

▎ 18+ ▎ pairing: yandere!bankrobbers!OT7xbankclerk!y/n ▎ genre: smut, yandere ▎ word count: 3.2k ▎ warnings: smut, yandere, death threat, guns, cursing, manipulation, possessive behaviour, oral (f receiving), fingering, mouthfucking, unprotected sex with multiple men, kidnapping, future stockholm syndrome esque themes. Original idea by @lovesexyprettythings​ , thank you for letting me write this in my own style. ♥ Seven men, one dream. To be rich, without having to work a day longer in their lives. Solution? A bank heist. They were just lucky to find a new plaything in the midst of it.

The plan was carefully perfected. Nothing could go wrong.

There were seven of them, all hungry for money and luxuries, but they were done with society and it's standards. Working wasn't an option, especially not when this seemed so easy.

Their plan was bulletproof, fault free. Ready for execution. Only four of them would be going inside of the bank, while two would be waiting in a van outside, ready for pickup.

The last one, the brain behind the entire plan, would stay behind at their safehouse, monitoring the entire heist, hacking into the systems through his computers.

''Get into position, boys. I'm temporarily disabling their power systems in 3...2...'' Namjoon's voice echoed in their in-ear communicatirs, and at the last second, the entire building goes dark, alarms disabled and electricity shut down.

The four men went in, the one in front waving for his men to follow. They kept their weapons hidden, but within reach and ready. However, they were strictly told by Namjoon to never kill, unless absolutely necessary. Some men agreed to this more than others, but orders were orders. And they could not afford to mess this up for simple thirst for blood.

They run into an obstacle, a woman standing in their way.

You.

You were a hardworking bankclerk who was seated inside of your office when the electricity was shut down. You tried to navigate towards the power office to fix the electricity, using the flashlight of your phone to see where you're going, but was abruptly stopped when you crashed your face into the chest of a man who barely moved from the force of your thud.

''A-ah, I'm sorry, I-'' You stuttered, looking up to see the face of the man, but it was covered by a mask, eyes shining red through his infrared glasses.

You were startled, trying to scream, ''mmpfh!'' But was quickly silenced as the man forcefully pinned you against the wall with his body, one hand covering your mouth.

''Shush, baby... We wouldn't want anybody to know that I'm here, do we?'' Hoseok whispered with an amused voice into your ear, his breath hot against your skin,

''Now be a good girl, and tell me what I want to hear, hm?''

You were afraid, feeling the rush of adrenaline and fear flow through your spine, but at the same time, this rush was exciting. Your day to day life was nothing but ordinary, boring, and even if this was possibly a threat to your life, you felt more alive than ever at this very moment.

Struggling, you were trying to get him off of you, shoving against his body to no avail. He was at a great advantage in both height and strength compared to you.

Hoseok's eyed your body from top to bottom as he easily held you in place, his gaze roaming your every curve that he was able to see from this angle. Licking his lips, he leaned in closer as he inhaled a deep breath, smelling the mild perfume that you always wear.

''Hobi!'' A new, younger yet stronger voice caught the attention of the man pinning you, ''We aren't here to fool around, get the fuck off of her and help us, will you?!''

''Y-yes, JK...'' Hoseok sighed, withdrawing himself from your body, apparently this JK guy had more power within this group. The sudden loss of the pressure from his body giving you an easier time to breathe.

Your eyes quickly traveled over to the other man in the room, feeling a shiver run down your spine at his intense, intimidating stare. You were unable to utter a word, scared to trigger any of these men. You swallowed tightly, the noise of your swallow a tad bit too loud in the quiet room.

What was he doing? Was he gonna kill you?

This is it.

Your couldn't control your trembling body, fear rushing through you, your eyes staring down at the floor to avoid their gazes as Jungkook stepped closer to you. Hoseok still held you in place with his strong hands.

When JK stopped in front of you, all you could look at was the combat boots he was wearing.

''You can keep a secret for us, can't you, kitten?'' Jungkook said with an amusent tone to his voice. You looked up at his face, only to notice that he'd taken off his mask, his intense eyes now looking right through you.

He was incredibly handsome, with a strong, defined jawline and dark curls framing his almost otherworldy face, making your heart skip a beat even in these circumstances.

The electricity was back, but the alarms were still off, so you could get a proper look at him. You noticed the scar on JK's cheek, a vague flaw to his almost harmless eyes, reminding you that he was anything but harmless.

You nodded at his question, another tight swallow followed. He frowned, his large, calloused hand grasped your jaw to force you to look at him properly.

''Use your words, kitten. Answer me. Can you?''

''Y-yes...'' You croak out weakly.

''Good girl.'' He chuckled darkly, a wicked amused tone to his voice. Something about his voice and dominance made your body heat up several degrees. Being at their mercy was turning you on.

Jungkook kept his grasp around your jaw as he smiled wickedly,

''Yes, what?''

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes wide and confused as they flickered between Jungkook and Hoseok, both staring at you with playful smiles. Without thinking, you just answered with the first thought that hit you,

''Y-yes, sir...?''

Jungkook lets the pads of his fingers smooth the skin of your jaw as he lets go, a satisfied smile curling on his lips,

''What a good babygirl... And they keep such a well behaved, pretty girl like you hidden in the back office,'' He paused and looked you up and down, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek in thought, ''If you promise that you'll be a good, obedient girl I will let you live.... But if you're a bad girl,'' Another pause followed as he caressed the gun poking out of his backpocket, ''I don't mind putting a bullet straight through that pretty little skull of yours..''

Your eyes widen, stomach dropping in fear as you feel tears well up in your eyes, ''Please–''

Jungkook silences you by stepping closer again, crouching down until he's eye level with you. His wide stare was piercing through your very being, and the following smile on his face made little wrinkles appear in the corners of his eyes. He's way too beautiful,

''Shh, baby... You don't want to die, do you?''

You shake your head frantically, the tears are now escaping to roll down your cheeks, eyes pleading with him as you ramble out your words,

''Please, please, I p-promise!... Please don't kill me, I'll do anything you want, I'll be a good girl, I–''

Jungkook reaches out to swipe away your tears, hushing you,

''I knew you'd be a good girl. Now come with me.''

On wobbly legs, you follow behind Jungkook, with Hoseok following closely behind you. He leads you to the big safe of the bank.

This safe was impossible to open, only staff was able to open it.

That's where you came in handy.

You looked around, noticing the building felt empty, so you were urged to ask this question,

''What did you do to everyone else?''

''They're taken care of. Bound, but unharmed. The police hasn't been alarmed as of yet.'' He chuckled as you both walked up to the door.

You gasped when you felt Hoseok pressing his gun against your back from behind,

''Open it.''

The two men waited as you pressed in the code on the pad after scanning your fingerprints, and the door finally clicks open as a green light appears.

Jungkook pushes the door open, running inside as he puts down the bags the brought with a thud, starting to fill it up with all the money he could possibly grab.

Hoseok orders you to stand in the corner of the room where they could keep an eye on you before he does the same, helping Jungkook to fill the bags with all their upcoming riches.

''We're really doing it, JK!'' Hoseok sings out.

Jungkook remains focused at this task, ''Let's celebrate when we're actually done here.'' He looks over at you, ''Stay.''

They finish loading the bags, hiding them by the backdoor where Jimin and Taehyung will grab them and load up the back of the van.

''All done here?'' Jimin asks as he throws the bags inside of the van.

Jungkook shakes his head,

''Almost done, we will be out soon. Just one more treasure left.'' Jungkook stares at you with a smirk as he says it, glancing over at Hoseok.

Hoseok instantly knew what JK meant, a smirk on his lips as well as he licks and bites his lower lip.

Jungkook looks back at Jimin & Taehyung,

''Take the money and jewelry back to the safehouse, then come pick us up with a different car. They won't find us easily this way.''

Taehyung nods, quickly rushing over to the drivers seat, Jimin closing the backdoors before jumping into the passenger side. They drive off, and Jungkook gestures for Hoseok to follow him back inside to the safe.

To their last treasure.

You.

Jungkook & Hoseok stride in, a smirk on both of their faces.

''We have plenty of time together, kitten.'' Jungkook announces.

''And you've been looking absolutely delicious all night.'' Hoseok adds with a grin.

''N-no, dont...'' You barely get your words out, sounding weak, lifting your arms up as if to protect yourself. Jungkook smiles, grabbing your wrists to remove them from your face as he crouches in front of your sitting stature.

Jungkook leans in closer, his face barely inches from your trembling lips,

''Didn't you say that you'd do anything? Hmm? You promised...''

He almost looked disappointed, a crease between his eyebrows when he frowned, ''Good girls don't lie, do they? Are you a bad girl?''

You shook your head, ''N-no, I'm... good..''

Hoseok chuckled, catching your attention. He was still wearing his mask, but his body looked incredible from what you could see. And Jungkook was so handsome.

''Be a good girl for us and spread your legs, and let us play with you. We promise that you'll love it. What do you say?'' Hoseok's tone was playful, and convincing.

And, it's not like you had a choice. They weren't afraid to put a bullet in your brain if necessary. At least.. that's what they said.

You nodded, biting your lower lip as you stood up with Jungkook's help, your hands slowly reaching down to pull your skirt up for them.

Jungkook takes a step back to admire the view, giving quick, meaning glances to Hoseok whom quickly raises his eyebrows in their unspoken communication, licking his lips at the view of your panties and thighs being revealed.

Hoseok quickly gets rid of the mask covering his face, shoving it down into his pocket before dropping to his knees in front of you.

You silently cheer, as odd as it seems in this situation, for the fact that both of these men are absolutely drop dead gorgeous.

''She's already so wet, JK, shit–'' Hoseok announces from below as he rips your lingerie off, wasting no time in diving his tongue between your soppy folds, tasting and lapping up your juices like a starved man.

Jungkook is busy from above, standing next to you and swallowing every single one of your moans and whimpers into his own as he kisses you hungrily, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth to lick your teeth and tongue.

''Such a dirty, dirty girl... Letting herself be so easily subdued by two bankrobbers, knowing they're gonna fuck her so good, hm? Hard to resist us?'' Hoseok says as he keeps lapping at your cunt.

Jungkook smirks into the kiss from Hoseok's words.

Hoseok withdraws from your pussy to look up at the two of you, his lips and chin completely glistening with your arousal,

''Just look at this shit, JK... Her pussy is dripping, so needy for us to fuck her already.''

Jungkook stops kissing you, crouching down to take a good look at your cunt. He nods, glancing over at Hoseok before picking up his phone from his backpocket,

''Let me call Jimin & Tae over. It wouldn't be fair not to let them enjoy this as well.... But, I'll be the first one to use her.'' He smirks as he presses the phone to his ear, watching as Hoseok spreads your pussy with his thumbs.

''You guys better come over, we found a needy plaything that wants so, so much attention.'' JK hangs up, just at the same second as you were getting impatient,

''P-please, do something... I can't wait anymore..'' You whimper.

Jungkook smirks, already working on the belt of his pants, pulling them down below his hips, just enough for him to be able to pull his cock out to fuck you.

''What a needy girl we found, huh?'' Hoseok mused.

''You're absoutely right, hyung.'' Jungkook agreed, his hand smoothing up your thigh before his fingers reach your soppy cunt, pushing his fingers inside of you to gather your arousal. He pulls his fingers back out of you before you could feel any pleasure from them, using the gathered wetness to spread it over his length along with spitting on it, making sure it's properly lubed up for you.

He strokes his cock to full erection before pushing you up against the wall, one leg held up by the back of your knee and the other hanging freely, his strength enough to hold your smaller frame up.

He aligns himself with your dripping, aching pussy before pushing inside of you without warning, the burning stretch of his girth making you cry out in pain and pleasure. Your pent up need for them had you already close to cumming, whining and whimpering out 'yes' over and over as a chant as Jungkook pistons his hips into you with rigorous strength.

All the other guys had joined in to watch as Jungkook fucks you with animalistic hunger, and Jimin leans over to the other men with a snicker, ''He must have been starved of a good fuck for quite a while.''

Jungkook keeps fucking into you, low grunts and moans rolling off his lips as he finally stills his movements when he cums, releasing all of his thick, hot cum inside of you. You gasp, the feeling of his cock throbbing so fucking amazing.

Your legs were trembling, breath heavy as Jungkook beckons the others to come closer, gathering around the two of you,

''You were such a good girl for me, kitten.... But now show me how good you can be for the others as well.''

He pulls himself out of you, letting you drop down to your knees on the floor, a hot mess already. Jungkook takes a step back, hand back to stroke his cock to the scene he's about to witness.

''Show her a good fucking time, guys.'' Jungkook groans as he touches himself slowly, Taehyung joining in on simply enjoying the show with his eyes fixed on you.

You swallow tightly with a gulp, already tired but still excited for what's coming you way, your heart pounding heavily as if it's gonna beat out of your chest.

''Fuck, yes, finally!'' Jimin exclaims as he unbuckles his belt quickly, Hoseok doing the same. Hoseok swiftly forces you onto all fours on the floor, but Jimin just as quickly shoves Hoseok out of the way to claim his spot between your legs, aligning his cock with your cunt before pushing his length into you, one hand surprising you with a harsh smack.

You cry out a loud moan, the people bound in a different room probably able to hear your cries, scared and unknowing of the situation.

Jimin laughs wickedly as he thrusts his hips with precise movements, ''What a dirty slut, she loves this! She probably fucking loves the position she's in right now!''

Hoesok was impatient, instead positioning himself by your mouth as he pushes his cock against your lips, ''Suck on it, babygirl.''

You obey, taking his cock into your mouth, the momentum of Jimin's rough thrusting forcing you to take Hoseok's cock deep down your throat, your body rocking back and forth between them as they both fuck both of your holes.

''She's so bad, probably the worst out of all of us for getting off on this. She's letting us use her like a fucking toy while everyone else is trembling in fear for their lives!'' Hoseok laughs mockingly.

''And here she is, getting her holes fucked by the very robbers themselves!'' Jimin chimes in with a sadistic giggle, another harsh smack landing on your ass as he keeps fucking into you rougher, faster chasing his high.

''Are you enjoying this, kitten?'' Jungkook moans from where he's watching, seeing the way your body jiggles and bounces sinfully for them is shameless.

You close your eyes, muffled moans escaping your throat as Hoseok fucks it, wet and sloppy and he groans in pleasure.

''Maybe she's falling for us!'' Jimin mocks, his voice strained and heavy as he moans out loud when his hips stutter as he cums inside of your cunt, mixing his cum with Jungkook's.

Hoseok grabs your hair, forcing you to swallow when he cums down your throat with a guttural moan vibrating in his chest, ''F-fuckk shes so good!''

They both pulled out of you, leaving you a hot mess of cum, sweat and your own juices as you laid down on the floor with a thud. All men stood up, putting their pants back on properly and running their hands through their hair, looking as if nothing just happened.

Taehyung stared down at you, then back up at the others.

''So, what do we do with her?''

Jimin smiled, his eyes disappearing into the shapes of crescent moons, ''I like her a lot, we should bring her back for Yoongi, Namjoon & Jin to enjoy!''

Hoseok agrees, ''They would fucking love her.''

Jungkook grabs you into his arms, fixing your outfit before carrying you bridal style, ''Let's take her then, she's ours from now on.. I want to play with her more.''

They sneaked out into their civil car, driving off just in time before the cops came to the bank, and made it back to their safehouse.

Yoongi opened the door, moving away for the boys to walk inside, but his eyes widen as he sees Jungkook stride in with you in his arms.

''Who the fuck is that?'' Yoongi frowned.

Jungkook put you in their bed, and Yoongi followed the boys to watch your sleeping body.

''It's our new plaything, we brought her for you guys to try out.'' Jungkook announced.

''Yeah!'' Jimin hugged Yoongi, a smirk playing on his lips, ''Her pussy feels fucking heavenly... Let's give her a rest, then she's all yours.''

You were definitely gonna wake up to some fun.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not edit, repost or translate.

[omgreally]

The Apprentice Read on AO3 Pairing: Din Djarin/F!Reader Rating: E for Explicit, Soon Wordcount: 5k+ Summary: Peli Motto took you off the streets of Tatooine to become one of the best apprentices she's ever had - but honestly, the DUM droids are setting the bar pretty low.  Still, you work out well for the first few months until an armored Mandalorian stranger lands with a busted-up ship and a strange magic baby and, well, you're intrigued. Even though you know you shouldn't be. Peli's always teling you to keep away from anything hot but sometimes, to fix something, you have to stick your hand straight into the fire.

Chapter Two - The Beholder

The Mandalorian is always watching you.

You’ll be working on something on his ship and feel it - like standing with your back too close to a fire. The heat of his gaze gathers between your shoulder blades, amplified by the blankness of that damned visor. 

He doesn’t give a flying kriff that you notice, either. You’ll glance over your shoulder at him and he’ll be there, lounging against something, effortlessly casual, and he’ll just look at you and shrug, as if daring you to say something.

You tell yourself that Mando is just protective of his ship. There’s a lot of surprisingly expensive hardware on it - the contents of that weapons locker, for example - and he doesn’t want you to fuck something up. After all, you are the apprentice. Peli vouching for you doesn’t make a damn lick of difference. This floating metal trap is his home, and the first time you met you spent some time insulting it. It’s understandable he’d want to keep an eye on you after that.

And you tell yourself you don’t like it.

At first you try to ignore it. You work, and you work hard because Peli expects nothing less. You end up with the arms of your coveralls tied around your hips, your tank damp with sweat and sticking to your skin, your hair an absolute mess, covered head to toe in engine grease. 

You descend the recently-repaired ramp wiping your forehead on your arm, and here he is, leaning against one of the landing struts. “What are you doing?” he asks, making you jump near-out of your skin; you whirl to glare at him, clutching at your pounding heart.

“Taking a break,” you say, when you’ve recovered enough to speak. “I’ve been working all day.”

He surveys you impassively. Is there anything under that helmet, you wonder? Or is it just air and wires? Just like one of those droids. But no, the way he moves - all coiled, unreleased power, the potential for violence - you can feel he’s more than that.

You’re not sure if it terrifies or intrigues you.

You tell yourself it’s fine, that it doesn't really bother you. That every time he appears behind you your heart doesn’t skip a beat. But the sheer physicality of his presence is full of a devastating uncertainty and potential that you don’t know what to do with.

And he’s always watching you.

He says nothing, and you turn and shake your head, stomping off away from the ship. Razor Crest, it’s called. You think it should be called Tetanus Crest.

“What’s his deal?” you ask Peli as you grab some water inside. Your boss still has that weird green baby, but she’s given back your shirt, although you’re not sure you’ll wear it ever again. The thing coos and surveys you with googly eyes that creep you out only marginally less than Mando does.

“Whaddaya mean?” Peli’s only half-paying attention, too busy rocking the kid - Grogu - as she tries to get him to sleep in her arms. He waves his stubby claws, evidently enjoying himself too much to do so.

“He’s...very intense. Always watching me.”

“Well, he is a Mandalorian. They’re not exactly a friendly people. I wouldn’t take it personally.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s personal, Peli,” you say, shaking your head, “Every time he looks at me, I’m not sure if he wants to shoot me or fuck me.” 

You expect Peli to tell you off for your mouth. She only covers Grogu’s ears and glances around to make sure Mando isn’t listening when she says, “Careful, Girl. It could be both.” She laughs as you blush, from cheeks to collarbones, and she wriggles her hairless brows at you suggestively. Then, her fun had, the mechanic shakes her frizzy head and sits back, her tone turning a little more to the serious.

“Don't worry yourself too much. I trust him. Mando won’t hurt you. If he did, he’d owe me even more credits'n he already does. But he’s...he’s a good man, kid. Grogu here is proof of that.” The stubby creature makes a happy burbling noise and claps his tiny hands together. You can’t help but smile a little.

“Plus, if he hurts you, he’ll be answerin' to me. And you can remind him of that, too.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind him hurting me in a couple of ways,” you say breezily, if only to see the shocked look on Peli’s face. You walk away laughing. 

Well. Overall, that was...unhelpful.  You grab a discarded rag and wipe sweat from your brow, probably only succeeding in smearing black grease all over your forehead. War paint, you think, not with a touch of irony.

You’ve had a few tumbles in the sand in your time.  Nothing permanent, few even memorable. You even considered doing it for credits, when things started to get really bad, before Peli came along. But you’ve never been confident enough in yourself to just go for what you want, and you waited until the boys or the men or the women came to you with hooded eyes and soft, promising touches and you went along to see where it led you. It’s been a while, and sometimes the urge strikes you to head down to the Cantina and find someone for a night, but you always end up alone in your bunk with your hand in your pants and your lips clamped shut so you don’t wake Peli as you work out your own frustrations.

You could be wrong. You hope you’re wrong, in this case. Fucking a regular customer, much less one who is a Mandalorian, sounds like trouble. But it also sounds like a lot of kriffing fun.

The Mando in question is nowhere to be seen outside. You ascend the ramp slowly, cautiously. How a big, shiny, broad, tall, menacing Mandalorian can hide in a tiny little krill can like this is beyond you, but he manages it. He’s not in the cockpit when you ascend the ladder, but that’s fine - you’ve been working on the busted nav computer for the last couple of hours and it’s been impossible to concentrate with him breathing down your neck.

It’s been disassembled into a pile of wires and cables  and circuitboards that make sense only to you. You sit in the pilot’s chair and pull it into your lap, humming to yourself as you tweak and twist things into place. You’re not sure how long you’re there for - long enough to rewire it into something that starts to make visual sense, long enough for your fingers and neck to cramp. Long enough to calm down after a very weird day or two.

“You’re good with your hands,” says a smooth, filtered voice by your ear.

You jump and the circuitboard almost slips from your fingers - you catch it pinned between your knees at the last moment, half-twisting in the chair to glare up at the Mandalorian who stands eclipsing the hatchway, leaning a forearm against the bulkhead, helm tilted as he watches you. 

“How long have you been there for?” you ask, trying to keep your aggression levels down, but damn it he startled the fuck out of you and almost made you undo all the work you’ve been doing for the last - you check the nearest chrono - two hours? Have you really been up here that long? 

Outside the viewport, the suns are starting to set, and the fading orange-purple light paints the brushed durasteel interior in hues of silvery midnight, lit only by the standby lights. It would be peaceful, if not for the metal hulk boxing you in and making your heart beat twice as fast at his proximity.

“Not long.” Mando nods to the boards between your knees. “You fix it yet?”

You draw a small, calming breath, hoping he doesn’t notice. “The computer? Sure. The ship? You’re asking a bit much for a day. Got at least a week’s worth of work left to get this thing into shape.”

“Will it fly?”

You snort. “Yeah, it’ll fly. Might explode or crash at any moment, but it’ll fly.”

He makes a sound like a displeased grunt, but it’s hard to tell through the vocabulator. Then he stills, just looking at you, and you turn your back, discomfited as always. You resolve just to keep working as best you can, even as his gaze bores into you.

The board is ready to go back in - you slide off the chair and onto your knees, carefully setting aside the mass of circuitry. Then, grabbing the front of the panel, you swing yourself underneath it on your back. 

“Hey, uh - Mando? If you’re still there, can you hand me that board?” You hold your hand out from underneath the panel. Then you clear your throat and add, “Please.”

The wiring board is pressed into your palm, and you relax a little. You fit it into place - a lot easier now with the cables organized - and examine your handiwork for a moment. Then you run into a problem. 

Easing yourself out of the cramped space proves to be more difficult than getting in had been. You realize you’re stuck about halfway through trying to ease yourself out on your back, and you end up jammed between the bottom of the seat and the top of the panel.

“Fuck!”

“Need a hand?” Mando’s filtered, scratchy baritone sounds amused, or maybe that’s just your imagination. You can see the edge of his gloved fingers hovering within reach. The muscles in your neck and back are burning and your hip is aching - if you stay there any longer, twisted up like a pretzel, you’re going to pull something. So you take his hand.

He doesn’t just pull you up, though, no. He reaches down with his other hand and a strong, metal-encased arm circles you, and you’re maneuvered out from under the panel, onto your feet and straight into his arms in one smooth movement.

You splay your hands on an impossibly shiny, smooth expanse of Beskar, your breath held up in its journey on its way from your lungs. He seems to eclipse your entire horizon, an expanse of silver and black. 

This close, you can smell him, a mix of gun oil and cordite and oxygen that makes your mouth water. Everything about him speaks to the part of you that craves danger, but there’s no little warning voice in your head telling you that this is wrong.

He is the one to let you go - to pull back, almost apologetically, placing his hands on your shoulders and stepping back to extend the distance between you. “You okay?” he asks, for all the world sounding unconcerned, but there is something knowing in the tilt of his helm when you look up into his visor.

Kriff, he is so much bigger than you. You should find that terrifying. You should find this whole situation dangerous, alone with a strange, masked man in his ship where Peli wouldn’t be able to hear you scream if something went wrong.

But Peli trusts him, you tell yourself. And, evidently, he trusts Peli.

So where does that leave you?

“Nav computer should be fixed,” you say, and your voice is smaller than you would like. “Anything else you want, Mando?”

There is a moment that is far more heavily charged than it should be. Mando’s helmet inclines a little. His hands are heavy on your shoulders, and they slide slowly down, over your bare biceps, heedless of the buildup of sweat and grime as the leather drags roughly over your skin. It makes the hair on the back of your neck lift, a flush beginning somewhere in your chest and spreading outwards in both directions. 

“Passive sensor’s acting up,” he says then, and the tension in the pit of your stomach fades, replaced by frustration. “Could you take a look at it?”

You sigh heavily, trying to contain any obvious display of emotion. “Sure,” you say, managing a smile. Then you realize his hands are still on your arms, and you don’t know what to make of that. “Where is it?”

The helm nods towards below the pilot’s chair.

You groan. “I gotta go under there again? Damn it. Let me go get my tools.”

Unexpectedly, Mando volunteers. “Wait here. I’ll go get them.”

“But you don’t know which ones I’ll-” need. You call after him but he’s already down the ladder. Sighing, you plop back into the pilot’s seat.

Now you have to add sexual frustration to your lists of complaints about this job. You never thought a fully-armored bounty hunter would do it for you - maybe it’s just been too long.

Shit, you’ve got to make an effort not to be alone with him, you think. Because if he’s just being a  Mandalorian and he doesn't mean anything by it, it’s going to be embarrassing if you end up slipping up in front of him.

Soon he returns, a bag of your tools in hand, and surprisingly it looks like he’s found all the right ones. You nod appreciately, sliding off the seat and into the footwell again. 

“Mind giving me what I need while I’m down here?” you ask, and there’s a pause where Mando’s helmet shows absolutely nothing, and your face threatens to flush again. “The tools, I mean.”

“The tools,” he repeats, his voice flat, emotionless. “Right.”

Fuck, you think. This is a bad idea.

Nevertheless, you forge on. You’re not going to run screaming from the ship and tell Peli it’s because the sexual tension - probably imagined - is too much for you to bear. You’d be fired and back on the streets in a heartbeat. So, you’re going to try to remain professional.

You move forward on hands and knees underneath the panel, until only your ass is sticking out from underneath it. You try not to imagine the Mandalorian’s gaze on you now . You concentrate on opening the little access cover to the passive sensor array, reaching into your coveralls for a clip-on flashlight which you fix to the strap of your tank top. 

Yeah, it’s a mess in there, all right - corroded to hell with carbon scoring, probably from a glancing impact in a firefight. You don’t know why you find that thought exciting. You’ve repaired ships that have been in battle before, but - to be fair - none of them had been piloted by a Mandalorian.

“Hyperspanner,” you call, holding your hand out backwards. The smooth handle of the correct tool, thankfully, is placed in your palm. “Thanks.” 

You forget the weird tension as you work, the immensity of the Mandalorian’s presence, your nervousness around him. You think only of what’s in your hands, the intricacies of electronics and wires and switches, the zen-like process of focusing on finding what’s wrong and fixing it. 

In this case, it’s mostly a cleaning job. You end up covered in black carbon soot, coughing as you scrape clouds of it from the affected components. None of them look damaged, though, which is a good sign. 

Eventually, you emerge, wriggling backwards hip-first until you can sit on your haunches with an elbow braced against the pilot’s seat. Half to your surprise, half-not, Mando is still there, though he’s taken up residence on the passenger seat instead, and he sits comfortably with an ankle crossed over his knee and his helm cocked at an angle to watch you work.

You flush as you realize he’d probably been watching your ass that entire time, even while handing you tools. Say what you like about them, a Mandalorian is definitely still a man. It’s right there in the name.

“Anything need replacing?” he asks, all business - but can you detect a warmer buzz in the modulation of his voice? Or is that just your imagination?

“Just my clothes,” you say, dragging up the bottom of your tank top to wipe your face. A little deliberate, since doing so reveals some of your stomach, but Mando’s only reaction is a small lift of his chin and a slight shifting in the chair. “Sensors should be fine now. And I’m gonna call it a night.”

He rises at the same time you do, and before you register what he’s doing, he’s in between you and the hatch, so large he covers entirely your only method of escape. You swallow the sudden lump in your throat, your hand tensing around the handle of your toolbox.

Peli trusts him, you tell yourself. He won’t hurt me.

“I wanted to...thank you,” he says and that is definitely not what you’re expecting. You blink a couple of times and he continues. “I’ve been watching you, and you work hard. You might even be able to get the Crest flying in better shape than before.”

“Oh,” you say, unsure. “Well...What can I say? I like fixing things.”

He nods. You think then that he’s done, he’s going to move out of the way, when he speaks again. “What’s your name?”

You shrug. “Peli just calls me Girl.”

“You don’t have a name?” If you could see his face, you’re sure Mando would be rasing an eyebrow at you.

“Do you?” you fire back and that silences the helmet for a moment. Then it shakes from side to side slightly.

“Fair enough...Girl.”

“Fair enough, Mando,” you echo with something like a smile. He moves away from the hatch and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. As you move past him you stop and turn, seized by a sudden impulse.

“Hey, we’re having a barbecue tonight with some deep-fried gorg, leftover krayt jerky and pika fruit. D’you...d’you want to join us?”

He's silent for a moment, processing that. Not looking at you. Then: “I eat on the Crest. Alone,” he says pointedly. 

Peli had told you he never takes off the armor, on penalty of his Creed - whatever that is, it sounds sacred, and you don’t mess with anything that’s sacred. So you don’t take too much offense at the rebuff. Instead, you opt for a compromise.

“You don’t have to eat in front of us. Just come grab something and take it back with you. Or I could bring you something before I go to bed?”

The visor stares at you blankly for several long moments before inclining in a nod. “Okay,” he says. You’re not sure what he’s agreeing to, but at least he’s agreed to something. You find yourself oddly eager for his company, and try not to read into that too much as you smile and nod at him.

“Great! I’ll see you then, Mando.”

You sling the toolbox over your shoulder and descend the ladder, eager to get out of the Razor Crest and under a shower for at least fifteen minutes before dinner. 

Maybe then you can work off some of the weird tension before you have to see him again.