#Meet and Greet Marshall

[heartlandians]

Tickets are available for the World Premiere of Heartland Season 17, celebrating Heartland’s 250th episode on Thursday, September 28th at 7:00 PM in the Southern Jubilee Auditorium.

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[chaptertwo-thepacnw]

every meet-and-greet ever.

[faithshouseofchaos]

Can you write a fic of Doctor!reader (or the medics at the race) x Danny ric? Like he got injured in a race (nothing too bad) but he has to go get it checked out, and he’s literally blown away by her and wants to see her again. The only issue is that she’s not around the paddock as much as she’s in office so the only way he can see her if he gets injured again and again.

I can see Daniel doing this and the reader is like 🤨🧍🏻‍♀️

The good doctor — Daniel Ricciardo x Fem!doctor!reader

Fluff

Word count— 3.5

Warnings — Daniel being whipped, he also gets a semi hard boner and get hit in the head by a soccer ball.

Daniel was overwhelmed with pain as he clutched his aching wrist and felt a wave of frustration wash over him. He turned off the car, carefully placed the steering wheel down, and then slowly climbed out, only to be greeted by safety marshals.

“Everything all right?” One of the Marshals asked

“Yeah although my wrist hurts to move it other than that I’m right as rain” Daniel answered.

“Right well, we have a medical center over there so you can get it checked out,” the same Marshal said pointing to the medical center.

Daniel nodded in acknowledgement, before slowly walking over to the medical center, each step bringing waves of pain to his wrist. Once he arrived, he was approached by a paramedic, who quickly led him to one of the check-up rooms.

“The doctor will be here in a few moments” the paramedic said before leaving the room.

Daniel let out a sigh and sat down, gently holding his wrist in a way that caused the least amount of pain. After a few minutes, the door opened, and a woman walked into the room.

Daniel’s eyes widened as he looked at the woman who had just walked into the room. She was incredibly beautiful, her eyes sparkling like diamonds and her hair fell elegantly around her face. He found himself speechless as he looked at her, his heart pounding in his chest.

The doctor looked up from a tablet that she was holding and met Daniel’s gaze, her gaze holding him for a moment before she smiled, revealing a perfect set of pearly white teeth.

“Hi, I’m Dr.L/N” she said, her voice like honey - soft, soothing and alluring.

Daniel swallowed hard, trying to gather his thoughts. “Uh, hi” he finally managed to say, his voice cracking slightly.

Dr.L/N chuckled softly, clearly amused by his behavior. “So, I understand you’ve hurt your wrist?” she asked, gently placing down the tablet.

Daniel nodded, feeling a blush creep up his neck. “Yeah, I kind of fell on it wrong when I crashed,” he said sheepishly.

Dr.L/N walked over and took his injured wrist in her hands, holding it delicately as she gently examined it. Daniel couldn’t help but feel butterflies in his stomach at the feel of her soft hands on his skin.

Dr.L/N’s fingers brushed against his skin, sending sparks of electricity through him. “Hmm, doesn’t feel broken,” she said, continuing to examine his wrist.

Daniel found himself completely entranced by her, his eyes fixed on her every movement. He could barely even feel the pain in his wrist anymore, the sensation of her touch overshadowing it.

Dr.L/N finished her examination and released his wrist. “I don’t think it’s broken, but you’ve definitely sprained it pretty badly” she said, her eyes meeting his once again.

Daniel forced himself to focus on her words and not just get lost in her eyes. “So, what do I do about it?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Well, we’ll need to put a wrist brace on it and make sure you don’t use it too much. Other than that, it should heal within a few weeks” Dr.L/N replied, walking over to a cabinet.

Daniel couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment at the thought of not being able to use his wrist for a few weeks. He had races to compete in and training to do, and the idea of being benched for such a long time was not pleasant.

Dr.L/N returned with a wrist brace and began expertly wrapping it around his injured wrist. Her hands were careful and precise, her fingers brushing against his skin with every movement. The butterflies in his stomach were in full force now, and he found himself completely captivated by her.

Once she was finished, she looked up at him and smiled. “There, that should do it. Make sure you don’t strain yourself with it, okay?” She said, her eyes meeting him once more.

Daniel swallowed hard, finding it difficult to speak under the weight of her gaze. “Yeah, I will,” he finally managed to say.

Dr.L/N nodded, still smiling warmly at him. “Good. Now, is there anything else I can help you with?”

Daniel’s heart skipped a beat at the question. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to ask her. But he knew he couldn’t, not in this moment. He shook his head. “No, I think that’s it” he said, forcing himself to look away from her eyes.

Dr.L/N nodded again. “Okay, then I’ll leave you be. Take care of that wrist, okay?” she said, stepping back and heading towards the door.

“Yeah, I will,” Daniel said, watching her leave the room. He let out a sigh as the door closed behind her, his heart still pounding in his chest. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, about how beautiful she was, about how she made him feel.

Before he could stop himself, a thought popped into his head. Maybe getting hurt again didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

He shook his head at the thought, trying to push it away. That was a stupid idea. He couldn’t get hurt again just to see her again, that was ridiculous. But as he sat there, the memory of her touch and her smile etched into his mind, he couldn’t help but think that perhaps it wasn’t that ridiculous after all.

——

Two weeks have passed since Daniel’s sprain and he was all better and ready to get back into the car. But despite being healed, all he could think about was the Doctor. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. He had returned to the medical center several times in the hopes of seeing her again, but she was nowhere to be found.

He had even asked the other doctors and staff if they knew where she was, but they all gave him the same answer. “She only works behind the scenes, sorry”.

Daniel knew the only way to see the Doctor was to get hurt again. He knew it was a ridiculous and dangerous idea, but the thought of seeing her again was impossible to ignore. He found himself contemplating ways to get hurt, ways to make sure he ended up in the medical center again.

Daniel, who wasn’t paying attention to where he was walking due to being lost in thought about the Doctor, got hit in the head by a soccer ball that Carlos,Checo,and Fernando were playing around with.

The soccer ball bounced off his head, causing him to stumble backwards and clutch his head in pain. Fernando, Carlos, and Checo all rushed over to his side. “Danny boy, you’re all right?” Checo asked, concern etched on his face.

Daniel took a moment to gather his bearings, his head throbbing from the impact. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he grumbled, rubbing his head.

But he was secretly ecstatic. He had a plan formulating in his mind, a plan that would help him see the doctor again. He felt guilty for plotting this, but the thought of seeing her again was too strong to ignore.

He stood up shakily, still rubbing his head. “I just need to sit down for a moment,” he said to his concerned teammates.

The other drivers nodded in understanding and led him over to a nearby bench. Daniel sat down, still clutching his head and pretending to be in pain. He had to act like he was hurt, like he needed to see the doctor, even as his mind was racing with excitement.

“Maybe you should go check thought out?” Fernando says. Daniel pretended to grimace in pain, playing up the act. “Yeah, maybe you’re right” he said, forcing a pained expression.

He knew this was the best opportunity he would get, a way to get the others to suggest he see the Doctor.

Checo and Carlos looked at each other, then back at Daniel. “Yeah, you should definitely go see a doctor,” Checo said. “I don’t think a soccer ball to the head is good for anyone,” added Carlos.

Daniel played along, trying to act like he was reluctantly agreeing to go. “Yeah, yeah, I think you’re right,” he said, groaning for good measure. “I’ll go to the medical center.”

“You want us to come with you?” Carlos asked, still looking somewhat concerned. Daniel shook his head. “No, no, I’ll be fine,” he said, forcing a smile. “I’m a big boy, I can handle it on my own.”

The other drivers chuckled at his response, but still looked worried. “You sure?” Checo asked again, looking skeptical. “Yes, I’m sure” Daniel insisted, standing up from the bench. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”

The drivers exchanged a final look, still apprehensive about Daniel going alone. But Daniel put on a brave face and pretended to be confident even as his heart was racing in his chest.

“I’ll be fine, honestly” he repeated, before turning and walking in the direction of the medical centre.

All the while, Daniel’s mind was racing. He was hoping and praying that the Doctor would be there, that he hadn’t spent two weeks nursing a fake injury for nothing.

He could feel his excitement building with each step, his anticipation growing stronger and stronger.

He finally arrived at the medical center, his heart thumping in his chest. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door, walking into the familiar reception area. He saw the same young nurse sitting behind the desk, who looked up and smiled at him. “Back for another injury?” she asked, clearly recognising him.

Daniel forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, I got hit by a soccer ball this time,” he said, trying to sound casual. The young nurse is sympathetic. “Poor thing” she said, shaking her head. “Go have a seat over there. The doctor will come and see you soon” she added, gesturing to the chairs opposite her. Daniel nodded and went over to the chairs, sitting down and trying to keep his nervousness in check. He couldn’t let anyone know how excited he was to be back here, he had to play it cool.

He waited there impatiently, his mind racing. Every second felt like an eternity as he waited for her to appear. He fidgeted in his seat, drumming his fingers on the armrests as he waited. Finally, after what felt like hours, the door to the doctor’s office opened and she stepped out. Daniel felt his heart skip a beat as he caught sight of her. She was just as stunning as he remembered, even more so in his opinion.

She looked up and caught his eye, her expression lighting up in recognition. “Mr. Ricciardo, back so soon?” she asked, her voice like honey. Daniel stood up quickly, his knees feeling a little weak. “Yeah, got hit in the head by a soccer ball” he repeated, feigning a wince. “Doesn’t feel great.”

The doctor chuckled softly and gestured him into her office. “Come on in, let’s take a look at you” she said, walking back into the room. Daniel followed her, his heart thudding in his chest. The office was just like he remembered, with the same desk and couch he had sat on a few weeks ago. He took a seat on the couch, his pulse quickening as she closed the door behind her.

She sat down in the chair opposite him, her eyes fixed on his. He couldn’t help but notice the way her scrubs clung to her curves, the way her hair framed her face perfectly. He had to remind himself to breathe. “So, a soccer ball to the head, huh?” she asked, her tone lightly teasing.

Daniel chuckled weakly, still struggling to regain his composure. “Yeah, it seems like I have a knack for getting hit by things,” he said, trying to sound casual. She laughed as well, the sound of music to his ears. “Well, let me take a look and see if you’ve got a concussion” she said, standing up and walking over to him.

She carefully checked his head, her fingers gently running through his hair. He could feel himself shiver under her touch, the feel of her hands on his skin sending jolts of electricity through his body.

“No visible bumps or bruises, that’s good” she muttered to herself as she continued checking his head. Her fingers brushed against his scalp, sending shivers down his spine. He held back a moan, his mind racing with thoughts of how her hands would feel on other parts of his body.

After a few more minutes of checking, she pulled back and looked at him. “You seem fine, but I should probably do a few quick tests,” she said, her eyes meeting his again.

“Okay, yeah, sure” Daniel managed to say, his voice a little hoarse. He couldn’t believe how much her proximity was affecting him, how much he wanted to pull her closer and feel her body against his. She stepped back and pulled out a torch, shining it in his eyes. “Follow the light” she instructed, moving the torch back and forth. Daniel obeyed, fighting the urge to close his eyes and lean into her touch.

She moved the torch back and forth, her gaze fixed on his eyes. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from hers, his brain having to work extra hard to remember to blink in time with the light. After a few more moments, she switched off the torch and pocketed it.

“Your eyes look good” she said, her voice soft. Daniel felt a pang of disappointment that the test was already over. He wanted her to keep touching him, to keep her hands on him longer. “Now I’m just going to ask you a few questions, okay? Just to make sure you’re really all right.” She sat back down in her chair, pulling out a pen and paper ready to take notes.

Daniel nodded, shifting on the couch and trying to ignore the fact that he was practically drooling over her. “Yeah, that’s fine” he said, his voice cracking a little. She smiled at him, her expression kind. “Great, let’s start with a few simple ones to warm you up. Can you state your name for me, please?” she asked, her pen poised above the paper.

“Daniel Ricciardo” he replied, his eyes never leaving hers. Her smile widened at his answer, and he felt a flutter in his chest. “Good, good” she said, writing down his name. “And how old are you?” she asked, looking back at him with those beautiful eyes. “Thirty four” Daniel replied, his voice sounding a little breathless. He knew she was just asking basic information, but the way she was talking to him, the way she was looking at him, was driving him up the wall. “Perfect” she said, writing down his age. “And can you tell me the date?” she asked, still looking at him.

“August twenty first” he answered, his voice sounding a little shaky. He could see a hint of a smirk on her lips, and he desperately wanted to lean across the couch and kiss it off her face. “Very good,” she said, writing down the date. “Just a few more, then we’ll be done” she reassured him, still smiling at him. “Do you know where you are right now?”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his thoughts and come up with a coherent response. “Uh, the… the medic center?” he said, cringing internally at how idiotic he sounded. She chuckled softly at his response, that melodic sound making his heart skip a beat. “That’s right, very good” she said, clearly amused by his answer. “And who am I?”

“Y/n (Last Name), the doctor” he replied instantly, then realized he probably sounded too eager. He tried to play it cool, but the look in her eyes told him she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Correct as always” she said, her voice laced with amusement. Her gaze was still fixed on his, her eyes boring into his soul. Daniel could feel himself falling deeper and deeper under her spell with every passing moment.

She sat back in her chair and tapped her pen against her chin, clearly enjoying every moment of their interaction. “Okay, last question” she said, her voice suddenly soft. “And it’s a really important one, so I need you to concentrate hard and give me an honest answer.” Daniel nodded, his brain struggling to focus on anything other than how damn attractive she was. “Yeah, shoot” he said, trying to sound calm. “Are you feeling any pain anywhere? Anywhere at all?” she asked, her eyes locked with his. He knew she was referring to his head injury, but he was currently feeling some other types of sensations that were more intense and distracting.

“Uhh” Daniel said, trying desperately to keep his thoughts straight. He was feeling pain, but definitely not in his head. He could feel his body growing more and more aroused with each passing moment, his mind filled with thoughts of her. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t deny the effect she was having on him. “No, no, I’m fine.”

She raised an eyebrow at his response, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips. She could clearly see the effect that her presence was having on him, the way his body was betraying him. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice low and seductive. “No pain at all?” He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He knew he was walking on thin ice, that he was crossing a line that he probably shouldn’t cross. But he was too far gone to care at this point. “No…” he said, his voice hoarse. “No pain at all.”

She chuckled softly, clearly enjoying his reaction. She leaned forward in her chair, her smile growing wider. “Are you sure there’s not even a little bit of pain somewhere?” she inquired again, her tone teasing. “Maybe somewhere… lower?” pointing down at Daniel’s semi hard length causing him to blush really hard.

He felt his face flush red at her directness, his body shuddering at the implications of her words. “I… uh… I don’t… uhh…” he stuttered, his mind going completely blank. He was starting to realize why she was asking him these questions, why she was teasing him like this. It was like she knew exactly the effect she was having on him, and she was enjoying every second of it.

She laughed softly at his reaction, clearly amused by his lack of composure. “Relax, Daniel,” she said, her voice gentle. “I’m just a doctor, remember? I need to make sure you’re really okay.”

Daniel took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. He knew she was right, that she was just doing her job. But her words, the way she was looking at him, it was all making it impossible for him to think straight. “Yeah, yeah, I know” he mumbled, willing himself to calm down. “I’m fine, really.”

She leaned back in her chair again, her eyes never leaving his. “Okay, I believe you” she said, her expression playful. “Just one more thing before you go though.” His heart leapt in his chest at her words. One more thing. He had no idea what she was going to say, but he was desperate to know. “Yeah? What is it?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Would you like to go out with me soon?” The doctor asked. Daniel's mind went completely blank at her words. He was not expecting that at all. He was expecting some kind of medical advice or something, not her asking him out on a date.

He stared at her in shock, his mouth hanging open. This had to be a dream, right? A beautiful doctor, asking

him

out on a date? It was too good to be true.

But she was still looking at him, waiting for his answer, a small smile on her lips. This was real. She was really asking him out. He took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts. “You… you want to go out with me?” he asked, his voice sounding strangled. He couldn’t believe that this was happening, that she was actually interested in him.

She nodded, her smile growing wider. “Yes, I do” she said, her voice firm. “I think you’re very attractive, and I’d like to get to know you better.”

Daniel could feel his heart race faster and faster. He couldn’t believe this was happening. The woman he had been fantasizing about for weeks was now asking him out on a date. He had to pinch himself just to make sure it was real.

“I… I…” he started, unable to form a coherent sentence. “Yes. Yes, I’d love to.” “Great” she said, her smile growing even wider. She stood up from her chair and walked around to the couch, standing in front of him handing him a sticky note with her number.

“I’ll see you then” she said with a smile

[viennakarma]

What would I do (without you)

Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: When Fernando is in a very ugly crash, your anxiety gets the best of you, luckily, he’s there to comfort you.

Word count: 1.7k

Tags: female!reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort, anxiety, Fernando’s crash in Australia (2016), happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: This is a little treat inspired by the unfortunate crash Fernando went through in Australia, 2016. I'm sorry if it's rushed or full of mistakes. Comments and feedback are appreciated xx

The day was perfect, sunny, warm and you had been accompanying Fernando the whole day, and he wanted you close to him at all times possible, unless he had a meeting or press.

You sat on an armchair, watching as Fernando dressed in his racing gear. You unabashedly watched as he undressed from his shorts and team shirt into his undershirt and overalls.

“You’re staring,” he pointed, not looking at you as he adjusted his clothes.

“What? Can’t a girl stare at her man?” You joked, smirking.

“She can, not when I shouldn’t get distracted by a pretty girl.”

Before the race started, you hugged Fernando, pecked his lips quickly and wished him good luck.

You watched the race from the garage, through the screen, headphones firmly around your head. He had a good start, and was climbing from midfield up.

He was going to turn 2 when you saw that his right front tire touched the left back tire of another car, which looked like a brief touch, but due to the speed, his car immediately broke, and Fernando lost control of the car.

Heart on your stomach, you gasped as the car kept going ahead at high speed, scraping the wall with such force, then as soon as it hit the gravel, the car was lifted off the floor, immediately overturning mid air. The car twisted a couple of times in the air, raising dust and debris, until it stopped upside down against the barrier. The car, or what was left of it, was destroyed in a pile of rubble.

You felt like you were going to puke. Everyone in the garage watched in horror one of the ugliest crashes they had ever seen in their lives. The silence felt like hours, but they were barely a few seconds.

He lost control of the car, he couldn’t even brake to ease the impact, the pain took over your chest like fire spreading quickly and deadly. Your knees were shaky as you watched the screen, and heard the silence stretching in the garage.

“Fernando, are you ok?” The engineer asked via radio.

Everyone waited a couple of seconds, and you felt like you were going to pass out when the silence stretched, everyone waiting for a response.

“Yes,” he sounded winded, voice a little shaky. You breathed again, panting as if you were gasping for air after staying a bit too long underwater.

“The marshals are coming to get you, stay put.” The engineer told him.

Your eyes stayed on the screen, and then you could see him climbing out from the rubble, standing up slowly and limping away from the car. Then he stopped, both hands on his knees, looking like he was having trouble breathing.

“Is he hurt?” You asked, your voice loud but shaky.

“No, it seems like he’s just a little dizzy and breathless from the impact,” someone answered.

You pressed a hand against your chest, trying to ease the pulsating pain you felt. Panting, you closed your eyes for a couple of seconds, only to open them to see Fernando being helped by the marshals, talking to the other driver who he had crashed with.

Eventually, he came back to the garage, finding you and his team. You waited while everyone greeted him, with worried hugs and pats on the shoulder. You waited until he came to you, with that silly smile. He pulled you into his arms and he hugged you, holding you for a couple of seconds. You ran your fingers through his hair, inhaling him in, even if he smelled of cologne and sweat.

Your chest gave in, and he was in your arms, and you didn’t want to let go. Because he was there, in one piece, unharmed. Your Fernando was ok, and you told yourself you had not lost him.

“You’re here, you’re here” was all you could mutter into his shoulder, over and over, confused and trembling.

“I’m here, corazón. I’m right here,” he said back, softly.

Someone called him for his post race duties, and you didn’t want to let go, it took your whole strength to unlatch your arms from around his shoulders. You shuddered as he took a step back.

Everything was a haze after that, Fernando going to the med center to check if he had any injuries, then a brief media walk. Your mind was running a thousand miles per minute, thinking about the crash, about how it could’ve gone so, so wrong.

You sat in his driver’s room, out of it, thinking about all the what ifs, all the possibilities. You could’ve lost him in a couple of seconds, you could’ve been going to the hospital right now, or worse, you could be calling his parents with the worst news ever.

You’re agitated for the next couple of hours. You tried to eat something, but after two bites you felt like you’re going to throw up, so you gave up.

“Corazón? Corazón!” You heard his voice, quickly taking you away from your anxious thoughts.

Fernando looked like he had showered and changed, you stood up, numbly taking your bag and following him. During the ride back to the hotel, you stayed silent, watching the view from the window, holding his hand on your lap, firmly.

He soon noticed how you were too quiet, silent. Your bubbly personality hadn’t shown up since before the race. He knew you must’ve been scared to death, even himself had been.

“I’m going to take a shower,” you said as soon as you got inside the hotel room. Fernando was going to say something but you just turned around and went inside the bathroom.

Under the shower, you closed your eyes, trying to delete the images of the crash from your mind, trying to stop this anxiety bubbling in your mind and heart. Fear slowly gripping your every muscle, and every thought.

Turning the shower, you got out, barely taking time to dry, just dressing in a robe and going outside, water dripping down your legs and dampening the floor.

Fernando, who had just asked for room service, was waiting for you to come out of the shower so he could really check on you. He didn’t have to wait as you came out of the bathroom, still wet, disheveled and terribly pale.

You jumped into his arms and he stumbled backwards until you two sat on the sofa, you on top of him.

“Talk to me, cariño,” he asked, “are you ok?”

As soon as he said the words, you started to sob, crying out loud, shaking and holding him tightly. Your face against his chest inhaling his scent, nuzzling your face into his beard.

“You’re here, Nando,” you puffed, nervously.

“I’m here, my love. I’m right here.”

“I thought- I was going to lose you today,” you managed to get out, between sobs. He ran his hand over your back, hugging harder, kissing the top of your head. “I was so, so scared!”

“It’s ok, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere,” he comforted you.

You kept crying for a few minutes, and Fernando just held you close, running his hands over your body, pulling you impossibly closer, kissing your face. Until you calmed down, and your sobs turned into sniffles. You were still sitting on his lap but you pushed away to look at his face. You held his face with both hands, running your thumbs over his cheekbones, then his eyebrows, then his lips. You observed his face with such worry, such devotion that he was overcome with love for you.

“I’m sorry I’m being so selfish, oh god- you- you were in the crash, inside the car- I’m sorry, you must’ve been so scared! This- this wasn’t about me!” You said, suddenly embarrassed for being so scared.

“Hey, it’s ok, corazón. I understand you were scared. I was too.”

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, amor,” you whispered, kissing him softly.

“No, don’t apologize,” he whispered, holding your face as if you were a delicate thing. At that moment, you were fragile and worried sick because of him, “you know why I left the car so quick? Because I thought of you and my mom watching the race, I thought about how worried you two would be, so I came out because I wanted to show you that I was fine.”

You hugged him some more, finally managing to calm your heart down, as you settled your face against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. When the food arrived, you ate quietly, still keeping a hand on him, feeling his body all the time.

When you were getting ready for bed, after blow drying your hair and dressing in pajamas, you reached in your bag for something. Fernando sat on the bed, staring at you. Holding the thing behind your back, you went back to him, standing between his legs.

“I need to tell you something, Nando.”

“¿Estás bien?” He asked, worried.

Smiling, you took his hand with yours, and placed it on your belly, holding it there. You raised the other hand, showing him the positive pregnancy test.

“No,” he shook his head in disbelief.

“Yes,” you nodded, smiling.

“¿En serio?” he asked again, just to make sure. But his eyes were shining in barely contained happiness. You held his face, pecking his lips for a second.

“For real, amor. We’re having a baby!” You told him, and he hugged your middle, putting his head under your shirt to lay his cheek against your belly. You could hear him muttering spanish against your skin, 

After quite the scare, you knew you had to forget about a pretty and cute way to tell him, and just show him why you felt so worried, so scared because it wouldn’t be just you losing him, but your baby too.

As you laid in bed, cuddling with Fernando’s face against your chest and his hand holding over your stomach, you ran your fingers through his hair.

“I know it’s part of racing and accidents happen sometimes, but,” you whispered, trying to sound understanding, “could you be a tiny bit more careful? For us?”

“Yes, corazón, I will.”

[wholoveseggs]

hey girl! i was wondering if you could write some angst - maybe like an unrequited love? like the reader is in love with Elijah but is too shy to tell him, and he doesn’t know about her feelings towards him because he’s too focused on Hayley? pretty please 🫶🏻

Crush

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You have quite the crush on Rebekah's big brother, and you find yourself lost in the tangled web of unreciprocated feelings, yearning for a love that may never be yours.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @msveronicag, I may have gone a little off topic with this one ♡♡

6.7k words - Warnings: angst, masturbation, smut, corsets, Elijah being a history nerd and using it to flirt, Rebekah being the best (as always)

{Moodboard->}

You were excited to meet Rebekah’s infamous family. You thought Klaus, as notorious as he was, would intrigue you the most. However, the moment you laid eyes on him you knew you were doomed. Elijah. His charming smile, his piercing dark eyes and his strong hands. It took all your self-control not to blush and look away like some schoolgirl.

He was the first person who greeted you, his hand lingered in yours a moment longer than what could be considered polite and it sent butterflies straight into your stomach.

You were so gone, it was almost embarrassing. You couldn't help it, you were sure that anyone else would fall head over heels for him too.

But there was only one small problem: Elijah had eyes for another, Hayley Marshall. You tried not to be bitter, after all, they were just friends. However, you couldn't help but notice the way he looked at her, or the way she leaned into his touch. They way they would sometimes have entire conversations with their eyes. You couldn't stand it.

You had been so sure you had a chance. He had been flirting with you, right? But then you noticed that he was that way will everyone. He would flirt and smile, then gaze at you in a way that just oozed sex appeal.

You were staying in the compound with Rebekah and going to school full time. You enjoyed spending your free time reading, the Mikaelsons had an incredible collection of books and you had read a lot of them.

You were sitting at the table, a large book on medieval history in front of you. You were working on a research paper on romanticism in the middle ages. It was difficult, especially because there wasn't much written about that subject from this time period.

You considered asking Rebekah about it, but you knew it was a sore subject for her, so you decided against it.

You were getting ready to give up and start a new project when Elijah entered the room. You blushed at the sight of him, he was wearing a black T-shirt, and jeans. Looking the most casual you had ever seen him.

He gave you a friendly nod and headed to the bookshelf. He looked through the books for a moment, before taking one from the shelf. He placed it on the table before sitting across from you and beginning to read.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, both of you reading and not making a sound. You were surprised that you weren't more uncomfortable. The only sounds were the occasional page turn and the occasional noise from the city outside.

You got lost in your work again and came across an interesting paragraph about how poetry was used often to court potential partners. You wondered if Elijah had done that back then. He seemed like the kind of guy who would have.

The thought of Elijah reading you poetry made your heart skip a beat. You imagined him leaning in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered words of affection and lust.

Your eyes glanced up, and your breath hitched when you realized he was staring at you. You flushed, quickly looking back at your work.

He chuckled softly and reached out, tapping the top of your textbook.

"Interesting choice of reading material." He said.

You gave him a small smile, "I'm trying to write a research paper on the Middle Ages." You replied. "About romance and poetry."

"Ah, yes." He said with a smirk, "I remember that time period fondly."

You giggled, "Of course you do. You were probably the biggest player around."

He gave you an odd look, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair. His eyes looked you up and down, and you could see a flash of something indecipherable cross them. You were surprised by how intense his gaze was, and felt your cheeks growing hot, regretting opening your mouth.

"What do you mean by that?" He asked, his tone teasing.

"I... uh..." You stammered, not sure how to respond. "You just seem like the type who'd have his pick of women."

Elijah smirked, his dark eyes meeting yours. "And why would you think that?" He asked, his voice low and dangerous.

You swallowed nervously, and his eyes narrowed slightly. You realized he was toying with you, and that he could hear your heartbeat quickening. You weren't going to let him win.

"I think you know why." You said, your voice surprisingly steady.

Elijah chuckled, his eyes roaming over your body once again. He put his hand on this chin and looked at you thoughtfully. "In the middle ages I was actually quite solitary." He said, a smirk still playing on his lips.

"What was it like back then?" You asked, trying to steer the conversation away from your previous comment.

Elijah's expression softened slightly, and his gaze seemed far away. "It was a different time." He said wistfully.

You couldn't help but stare at him. His eyes were filled with such pain and sadness. You knew he'd experienced terrible things, and that it must've been difficult for him. But somehow he'd managed to survive and maintain his humanity, something that very few vampires could say.

"What was it like to date -sorry- court someone back then? You asked, hoping to get a better understanding of him.

"Women were often married off when they were very young." Elijah said, a grim expression on his face. "They had no say in the matter. But there were ways around it."

He paused, his eyes meeting yours, and a slow smile spread across his lips. "It wasn't easy to be alone with a woman, not even for a moment. If you wanted to seduce her, you had to be creative."

Your face turned a deep shade of crimson, and you were suddenly thankful for the dim lighting. You shifted in your seat uncomfortably, and he chuckled softly, clearly amused by your discomfort.

"What we are doing right now, alone in this room," he said, his voice low and seductive, "it wouldn't be allowed. Not without a chaperone. And if we were discovered, the consequences would be severe."

His eyes flashed with desire, and you found yourself unable to look away.

"What would they do?" You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

"Well," he said, his tone mischievous, "you'd have to marry me, of course."

Your eyes widened in shock, and he laughed loudly, enjoying the reaction he'd gotten from you.

You felt flustered and embarrassed, but also oddly flattered. You couldn't believe he'd actually suggested that, and the thought of it made your heart race.

You wondered if he was joking, but you didn't dare ask. You weren't sure you could handle the answer.

The two of you sat quietly for a moment, before Hayley walked in holding Hope. She gave Elijah a questioning look and he stood, walking over to her. You watched as he placed a gentle kiss on the baby's forehead.

"Can you watch her for a few hours? They need me in the bayou," she asked him, her eyes wide and pleading.

"Of course." He replied, giving her a small smile.

She smiled gratefully, placing a hand on his cheek. "Thank you," she said, her voice soft and affectionate.

Elijah took Hope from Hayley's arms and cradled her gently. Giving her a wide smile and making funny faces, causing her to giggle. You couldn't help but smile. He was so sweet with her.

Hayley looked from you to Elijah, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "See you later." She said, before walking away.

Elijah nodded, his gaze lingering on her a moment before turning back to you. You looked down at your textbook, feeling guilty and jealous all at once.

He walked over to the couch and sat down, Hope still in his arms. You couldn't help but stare at the two of them. Elijah held his niece with such tenderness, and Hope seemed completely content in his arms. He was rocking her back and forth, humming a soft tune under his breath.

You'd never seen anything more beautiful.

Hope's eyes slowly started to droop, and Elijah smiled down at her. He continued to hum and rock her until her eyes finally closed, and she was asleep.

"You are so good with her." You said, unable to hold back the compliment.

He smiled, and his eyes met yours. You felt your heart skip a beat, and you quickly looked away, embarrassed.

You were sure he could hear it.

"Thank you," he said, not taking his eyes off Hope.

You tried to focus on your work, but it was difficult. Your mind kept wandering, and you found yourself glancing over at him more and more.

"I better go put her down, have a nice night." He said, standing up with Hope in his arms and heading towards the nursery.

"You too," you replied, smiling up at him.

Once he was gone, you let out a sigh and sank back into the couch. Your heart was still racing, and you were sure your face was still bright red.

It was the first time the two of you had been alone together. The first time you'd gotten a glimpse of his softer side.

And it made you want him even more.

Over the next few weeks you kept finding yourself alone with him. In the kitchen, in the library, on the balcony. It was getting harder and harder to hide your feelings, and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep it up.

He would ask you questions about your paper, and the two of you would talk for hours. He would listen to your ideas and tell you of his own experiences in the Middle Ages.

You loved how passionate he was about everything. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he enjoyed.

You wondered if he could see how you were falling for him, if he noticed how you blushed whenever he touched you. You were sure he did.

You knew it was foolish, but you couldn't help it. Every time you were around him, you couldn't stop yourself from imagining what it would be like to kiss him, to touch him. To be with him.

But he didn't seem interested, he didn't look at you the way he looked at Hayley.

One night, the two of you were sitting on the balcony, watching the stars. He was telling you a story of how he courted a woman who was to be wed to another, he would compel her betrothed to forget that he was around her.

"I don't miss much about those times, everything smelled terrible and fanaticism ran rampant, but there was something about the secrecy and the scandal that made it all..." He paused, looking for the right word, "exciting."

You chuckled, "I'm sure. But the fact that a lady could be forced to marry a man she didn't want... that sounds horrible."

"It was," Elijah agreed, "but not everyone was unhappy. Some women preferred it."

"Why?" You asked, your brows furrowing.

"Some liked the idea of being taken care of, of not having to make decisions or choices." He shrugged. "Others simply liked the security."

"What do you think?" You asked.

He turned to look at you, his eyes studying your face intently. "I think it was wrong. No woman should be forced into a marriage she doesn't want. No one should have that much power over another person."

You smiled, glad that he held similar opinions to your own. 

"But I do miss the corsets, the anticipation when taking one off, pulling the ribbons and slowly revealing the soft, delicate skin underneath," his eyes met yours, his gaze intense. "It was like unwrapping a gift, a treasure."

You couldn't stop yourself from blushing, his words making your heart race.

He chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He took a sip of his bourbon and leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Do you have enough information for your paper now?" He asked.

You smiled and nodded, "yes, but I don't know how to credit my sources," you chuckled. "I can't tell my professor that I'm writing a paper on the middle ages based on the first hand account of a vampire I know," you grinned.

"Hmmm, yes, I suppose that would be difficult." He said, his tone teasing. "How about you quote a 'unique source' that has a vast knowledge of the subject and a passion for it?"

You laughed, "That might work."

"Good," he said, offering you his hand. "Shall we?"

You looked at him quizzically, "where are we going?"

He smirked, "to the 14th century, of course."

"What?" You said, staring at him in disbelief.

"First hand experience is far more educational than anything written down," he said, taking your hand in his.

"You ready?" He asked, his expression serious.

You bit your lip nervously, unsure of what was about to happen, but you trusted him.

"Ready."

You were immediately plunged into his memories. He was standing in a large stone hall, surrounded by people in period clothing. There was laughter and music, and the scent of roasted meat and wine filled the air.

You watched as Elijah walked through the crowd, smiling and greeting people as he passed. He was dressed in a dark red tunic, and his hair was slicked back into a ponytail. It was an amusing haircut for him, but it was the fashion back then.

You followed him as he made his way towards a woman standing in a corner. She was beautiful, her dark hair was braided into a crown on her head, and she was wearing a yellow gown with red embroidery.

Elijah stood next to her, his hand resting on her arm. She turned to look at him, her eyes filled with longing. A feeling you knew well.

"My Lady," he said, bowing his head.

"Sir," she said, her voice soft and sensual.

"Would you care to dance?" He asked, offering her his hand.

She hesitated, her gaze shifting towards a man who was watching them intently.

"I don't think my husband would approve."

"You worry too much," Elijah said, taking her hand and leading her onto the dance floor.

They began to move together, their bodies swaying in perfect sync. You couldn't tear your eyes away, watching the two of them. They moved with such grace and elegance, it was like watching a dance meant only for the two of them.

A sudden movement caught your eye, and you saw the woman's husband storming towards the couple. His eyes were filled with rage, and his jaw was clenched tightly.

"Elijah," you said, hoping he could hear you.

But he didn't respond, instead he continued to dance with the woman, ignoring her husband's fury. When the husband reached them, Elijah simply grabbed the man and compelled him.

"I'm going to take a walk with your wife, she will be back before the sun comes up."

He let go of the man, who immediately walked away, not saying a word. Elijah offered his hand to the woman, and she took it, a small smile playing on her lips.

They walked out of the castle together, and you found yourself following behind. You watched as they strolled through the gardens, their hands entwined. They stopped under a large oak tree, and Elijah pulled her close, kissing her deeply.

You were mesmerized by the scene, your heart aching for the man you had grown to love. You wished it was you in her place. You wished he would kiss you like that.

You heard Elijah's voice, but it wasn't coming from the version in front of you. "I courted her for months, sneaking into her chambers, bringing her flowers and trinkets," he chuckled. "It was rather clandestine and exciting."

"What happened?" You asked, wanting to know the ending.

"She became pregnant with her husband's child." He said, his voice low and full of regret.

Your heart ached for him, and for the woman who had been forced to marry another man. The memory faded and you returned to the present, still holding Elijah's hand.

"I'm sorry," you said, not knowing what else to say.

He smiled, "It's alright, it was a long time ago."

"It's lonely isn't it? Being a vampire?" You asked.

He was quiet for a moment, before answering. "Yes. I think it's why I value my family so much," his gaze shifted to yours, and he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "And why I treasure our friendship."

"Me too," you said softly, smiling up at him.

You both sat in silence for a while, watching the stars and enjoying each other's company. After a while, Elijah stood, fixing his suit jacket and giving you a smile. "I hope you get an A on your paper."

You grinned, "Thanks for the help, Elijah. Goodnight."

You went to your room, lying awake in the dark. Your thoughts consumed with him, the way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you. The memory he had shared with you, it was so personal, and yet he didn't mind that you were there.

Your mind wandered to the way he was kissing that woman in the garden. His lips pressing against hers, his hands gripping her waist, his body flush against hers. You could see the way her head fell back, her eyes fluttering shut. You could feel the heat between them.

Your skin began to flush, and you felt a warmth between your legs. You had never felt such an intense desire for someone before, but there was no denying it.

You wanted him, you wanted to experience that kind of passion, that kind of intimacy.

Your hand trailed down your body, slowly slipping under the waistband of your panties. Your fingers brushing against your most sensitive spot. You gasped at the sensation, biting your lip as you started to circle your finger slowly.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you pictured him above you, his body pressed against yours as he kissed your neck and shoulders. Your hand moving faster as you imagined what his mouth would feel like on your skin, what it would feel like to have his lips pressed against yours.

You gasped, arching your back as you felt yourself coming undone, his name on your lips as you imagined him touching you.

Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, and you felt the aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you. It was a satisfying release, but it left you wanting more.

You were determined to have him, to taste him, to feel him inside of you. You were going to make him yours.

You practically skipped into the compound, giddy and excited to share your A+ grade on your paper. Elijah had been so helpful, and you couldn't wait to show him.

You heard voices coming from the courtyard, and you hurried past the gate, hoping to find him. You stopped dead in your tracks when you saw him, his arms wrapped around Hayley.

Her hand was tangled in his hair, and her body was pressed against his. Their eyes were closed, and their lips were locked in a passionate kiss.

You couldn't move. Your heart was shattered. You'd been foolish, thinking you had a chance with him. He was just being nice in his typical flirty way, and you were dumb enough to think it meant more. You'd just been reading into things.

You felt tears sting your eyes, and you quickly walked past them and up to your room. You collapsed onto the bed, your heart broken.

You cried, unable to hold back the pain.

You felt so stupid.

He didn't like you, he was just being friendly. And you'd fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. How could you possibly believe someone like him could ever like someone like you?

You heard a quiet knock at your door and Rebekah walked in, she had heard you crying and came to check on you.

"Hey, are you alright?" She asked, sitting down on the bed beside you.

"I'm fine." You said, your voice hoarse.

"Just crying for fun then?" She said, giving you a knowing look.

You sighed and sat up, wiping the tears from your face. "I'm just being silly," you said, shaking your head.

She sat down next to you and pulled you into a hug, which caused you to cry even more. She rubbed your back, trying to comfort you.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.

"No, I just need to get over it." You said, your voice breaking.

"Get over what darling?" Rebekah asked, her eyes filled with concern.

"Elijah." You said, wiping away your tears.

She looked at you, confusion written all over her face.

"I may have a bit of a crush on your brother." You confessed.

She laughed, "Oh is that all? I thought you were going to say something terrible."

"What? You aren't surprised?" You asked, staring at her in disbelief.

"You're not exactly subtle, darling." She chuckled. "Your heart beats faster, making your cheeks flush, whenever he's near. And your eyes light up like Christmas morning whenever he talks to you. It's rather obvious."

You couldn't believe she had noticed all that. Damn vampires and their heightened senses, you were mortified. If Rebekah noticed then Elijah definitely did as well.

You buried your face in your hands, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"So why the tears?" Rebekah asked, patting you on the shoulder.

"Because I just saw him kissing Hayley."

Rebekah was quiet for a moment, thinking it over. She put her arm around your shoulders.

"That might not mean anything, they're just friends. They have a complicated history," she explained.

You shook your head, "No, I saw the way he looked at her, the way she kissed him. There's definitely something between them, and it's more than just friendship."

Rebekah sighed and hugged you again."He's an idiot, always been that way around women. Sometimes I think it's more of a blind spot for him than Klaus," she said, her voice soothing.

You chuckled and wiped away your tears.

"He'll come around eventually," she said, smiling softly. "He just needs time to figure it out."

"Figure what out?" You asked, sniffling.

"That you're the perfect girl for him," she said, giving you an affectionate smile.

You smiled back and hugged her, thankful for her support. You felt a little better, and you were glad that she didn't judge you.

"I have an idea, a way for you to make him see what a catch you are," Rebekah said, her eyes glinting.

"Really?" You asked, excited at the prospect.

"Yes and it will be a chance for you to get him alone, away from Hayley," she smirked.

"I don't want to be that girl..," you started, not sure if you should meddle.

"I am," she grinned.

You chuckled, and Rebekah began telling you the plan. You listened intently, feeling better already. You were excited, and nervous.

But mostly excited.

Rebekah's idea was to have a costume party, she loved any excuse to throw one. It also gave you a reason to dress up, to catch Elijah's eye.

You went shopping with Rebekah, she wanted to make sure you got something that would suit your figure. She asked you what sort of theme it should be and you couldn't resist choosing one that you knew well: a medieval theme.

You found a beautiful, off the shoulder, forest green dress, with a tight laced corset that had gold threading, and long, flowing, bell sleeves. It was the perfect combination of modern and historical and it made your tits look fantastic.

Rebekah had gone with a blue version of the same dress, and the two of you were having a blast getting ready. She helped you style your hair for the night and even did your makeup, making sure that your look would draw Elijah's eye.

"Ready?" She asked, as the two of you looked at yourselves in the mirror.

"Yes," you said, trying to mask your nerves.

The two of you made your way down to the courtyard, where the party was in full swing.

Everyone was dressed in costumes from various time periods, and the atmosphere was electric. The music was loud, and people were dancing, laughing, and having a good time.

You saw Hayley and Klaus talking to some guests, and your eyes wandered around the room, looking for Elijah.

He was standing by the bar, his eyes scanning the crowd. He looked incredible, his dark hair perfectly styled, wearing a black velvet suit jacket with a high collar, a blue cravat and a white dress shirt.

Hayley walked up to you and Rebekah, and complimented the both of you on your dresses. She was dressed in a Victorian era gown, complete with a corset and a large bustle.

"So, where's Elijah tonight?" Rebekah asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Oh, he's around here somewhere," Hayley said bitterly, glancing around the room.

You felt a twinge of excitement. She sounded irritated by him. Maybe she wasn't happy in their relationship.

"What's wrong ?" Rebekah asked her, squeezing your hand subtly. You loved how sneaky she could be sometimes.

"It's just," Hayley paused, her eyes narrowing as she thought about her answer. "I don't think he's very interested in a relationship with me, he's been avoiding me all night."

Rebekah and you shared a look, a smirk playing on your lips.

"He's a hard one to read, that's for sure," you said, trying to sound sympathetic.

"I'm sorry to hear that darling, but perhaps its for the best," Rebekah added.

"Maybe, I just thought we were on the same page, I thought we had something," Hayley said, a pout forming on her lips.

You could see the pain in her eyes, and you couldn't help but feel sorry for her. You knew exactly how she felt.

"You're a gorgeous woman, and any man would be lucky to have you," Rebekah said, her voice genuine.

"Thanks," Hayley said, a sad smile on her face. "There is this guy here, his name is Jack, we've been flirting all night and he wants to dance with me," she said, looking over at a tall, handsome man in a knight costume.

"Then go," Rebekah said, smiling at her.

"Yeah, you deserve some fun," you said, trying not to sound too happy that Elijah might be single.

"Alright, I'm gonna do it," she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

She walked off, and Rebekah turned to you, her face breaking into a wide grin.

"How unfortunate for Hayley, how fortunate for you," she smirked.

You couldn't help but smile.

"Go, now's your chance, he's all alone." Rebekah said, her eyes scanning the room.

"I'm not going to make a fool of myself," you said, shaking your head.

"You're not going to make a fool of yourself darling, you're going to have a wonderful time," she said, giving you a little shove.

You took a deep breath and headed toward Elijah, your heart racing. He looked very similar to how he dressed in the memory he shared with you, and you felt butterflies in your stomach.

He was standing alone by the bar, his gaze distant. You walked up to him and smiled, trying to ignore the lump in your throat.

"Hey," you said, trying to sound casual. "Nice outfit, all you are missing is the ponytail,” you added, grinning at him.

"Some things are better left in the past," he teased, his eyes wandering over your dress. "You look lovely," he added, a small smile on his face.

"You like the corset?" You asked, biting your lip and giving him a twirl. You always felt so giddy around him, it made you do silly things, like this.

His eyes widened, and a smirk spread across his face. "Yes, it's quite flattering," he said, his gaze lingering on your breasts.

You blushed but maintained your composure, Elijah liked confident women, and you were going to show him what he was missing.

"Does it remind you of the era?" You asked, a flirty tone in your voice.

"No, it's far too revealing for the time period," he smirked.

"Oh, really? You didn't think this was sexy in the middle ages?" You asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I didn't say that," he chuckled.

"Good," you smiled, "I worked hard on this outfit."

He looked at you, his face full of curiosity.

"You are definitely thorough in your research," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"I forgot to tell you I got an A+ on the paper, thank you for your help," you said, smiling brightly.

"It was a purely selfish reason, I wanted an excuse to spend time with you," he said, his words catching you off guard.

"Oh, I," you stammered, not sure how to respond.

"You are always very easy to be around," he said, giving you a gentle smile.

You smiled and nodded, his compliment filling your heart with joy.

"Care to dance?" He asked, offering you his hand.

Your heart raced, and your breath caught in your throat. You nodded, unable to form words. He took your hand and led you to the dance floor, his grip firm and possessive.

You looked up at him, your heart pounding. He was so handsome, and the way he was looking at you made you weak in the knees.

You closed your eyes and let him lead, the feel of his hands on your body making your blood run hot. You couldn't believe this was happening, it felt surreal.

"I have a confession," he said, his voice barely audible above the music.

"What is it?" you asked, looking into his eyes.

"You make me nervous," he stuttered, his words causing your heart to flutter.

You let out a louder laugh than you meant too, then turned bright red and some people glanced at you. You didn't want him to think you were laughing at him, but you couldn't stop.

"Me? Nervous? How do I make you nervous?" You asked, genuinely curious.

He tilted his head in confusion, a wide smile forming on his face.

"I mean, look at you," he said, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You're breathtaking."

You blushed, not used to receiving such compliments. "You make me nervous too," you confessed, smiling shyly.

"I know," he smirked, causing you to blush deeper.

You gazed up at him, his brown eyes full of warmth and admiration. He truly was an incredible man.

You rested your head against his chest and closed your eyes, letting the music and the feeling of his arms around you wash over you. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, like you were made for each other. Your heart soared, you felt like you were dreaming.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, "Do you want to go somewhere quieter?"

Your eyes snapped open and your heart raced, his question sending a rush of heat to your core.

He wanted you.

You nodded, unable to form words. He took your hand, a smirk forming on his lips as he led you toward a balcony. You followed him eagerly, your heart hammering in your chest.

The cool air hit your face, and he led you to a secluded area, away from the other party guests. You gazed at him, your desire for him overwhelming.

He placed his hands on your waist and pressed you up against the wall. His lips were mere inches from yours, his eyes burning into you.

His fingers brushed against the side of your face, then he leaned in and kissed you. It was slow and passionate, his lips soft against yours. You let out a quiet moan as you melted into his kiss.

He pulled away and looked at you, his eyes full of desire. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he breathed.

"Then why were you kissing Hayley?" You blurted out before you could stop yourself. You felt terrible for even saying it, it made you seem jealous and possessive. You knew it wasn't fair for you to get upset at him, you had no right to. But you couldn't help it.

His eyes widened and a smirk spread across his face. "So you are jealous?"

You blushed and averted your gaze.

"It was a mistake, she caught me by surprise," he explained, his fingers brushing your hair back. "I'm sorry if I hurt you."

You nodded and looked up at him. He smiled and kissed you again, this time harder and more passionate.

He broke the kiss and whispered, "I've been drawn to you from the moment I met you."

Your heart soared at his words, your desire for him overwhelming. You wanted to feel his skin against yours, you needed him.

"Do you want to see my room? I have some books to share with you," you asked, knowing neither of you were doing any reading tonight.

He raised an eyebrow, "Lead the way," he said, his eyes twinkling.

Your heart pounded with excitement, and you took his hand in yours, leading him up to your room. You couldn't believe this was happening.

He closed the door behind him and kissed you, leading you backwards towards your bed. The back of your legs hit the edge and you fell down on the bed, your chest rising and falling rapidly. The corset making it difficult to breath, you tried to keep calm as you looked up at him. The reality was better than any fantasy you could ever dream of.

He placed his knee on the bed and leaned down to kiss you, his hands moving over your body, his fingers tugging at the laces of the corset. He did it slowly, each pull causing your breasts to spill out a little more.

He hummed softy, leaning down and kissing your neck and collarbone as your corset fell to the ground. He was so gentle with you, treating you with care, his movements deliberate and confident.

He unlaced the front of your dress, exposing your breasts. He gazed down at you, a look of wonder in his eyes. You couldn't help but blush at his reaction.

"Did you wear this in the hope I would take it off?" He asked, his voice husky.

"Maybe," you blushed.

He chuckled, leaning down and taking one of your breasts into his mouth. You let out a soft moan as he licked and sucked your nipple, his hands kneading your breast. You ran your hands through his hair, pulling him closer, needing more.

He pulled back and smiled down at you, then began to undo his cravat. You watched him eagerly, biting your lip as he pulled it off and began unbuttoning his shirt. You reached out and helped him, your hands brushing against his toned chest.

He smiled and took your hand, pressing his lips to the inside of your wrist. "I've dreamt of this moment for so long," he murmured.

He reached out and pulled your dress up over your head, leaving you in just your panties and stockings. His gaze was filled with desire as he looked down at you.

You felt confident under his gaze, he made you feel beautiful. He leaned down and kissed you again, his fingers running up your thighs, playfully pulling on your stocking and letting it snap back into place. You giggled at his teasing.

He smiled against your lips and tugged your panties off. His eyes raked over your body, his gaze filled with desire.

You reached out and helped him remove the rest of his clothes, your heart racing.

He lowered himself down on the bed beside you and pulled you into his arms, kissing you softly. His hand lifted your thigh around his hips, and he ran his fingers along your thigh and between your legs, a groan escaping his throat at the feel of how wet you were for him. You blushed at his reaction and looked away, feeling shy all of a sudden.

"Are you nervous?" He asked, looking down at you, his gaze tender and warm.

"A little, you're the first vampire I've been with," you admitted.

He chuckled, a wide smile on his face. "I promise I won't bite," he whispered, a hint of humor in his voice.

You couldn't help but giggle.

You ran your hand up and down his chest, then slowly down to his hard length. You took his shaft in your hand and began to stroke him, a low groan escaping his lips.

Your eyes locked, his gaze filled with desire as he watched you pleasure him. You increased the pressure of your strokes, rubbing the tip of him in your hand.

"You feel nice," you whispered, your lips inches from his own.

He smiled and pulled you on top of him, your breasts against his chest as he kissed you deeply, his hands gripping your ass. You grinded on him slowly, the feel of his cock against your pussy making you gasp.

You sat up and slowly sank down onto him, the feel of him inside of you making your breath catch in your throat. He felt so good.

"You're perfect," he whispered as he reached up and ran his fingers through your hair, gently tugging you back down to him, kissing you deeply. You began to rock on top of him, the friction causing you to moan softly. He ran his hands over your back, groaning into your ear as you rode him, taking him deeper.

It was slow, hot and sticky, the two of you getting to know each other's bodies, exploring and teasing. Your orgasm slowly built, your moans becoming more and more intense. You felt his grip on you tighten, his breathing becoming ragged.

Your heart pounded against his as he gazed up at you, a smile on his lips. His hands gripped your hips and he took control, guiding your movements, rocking you back and forth. You gazed into each other's eyes, a silent understanding passing between the two of you. You felt a connection beyond lust or attraction, something deep and beautiful, and you knew he felt it too.

You rocked together, lost in one another, and you let yourself fall apart on top of him. Your body spasming, a long moan escaping your throat as your orgasm crashed into you, your muscles clenching around him.

He gazed up at you, his eyes filled with love and desire. "That's my girl," he whispered.

He gently rolled you on to your side, keeping your bodies connected. His fingers digging into your thigh as he held it against his hip, kissing and nuzzling your neck. He took you slowly, drawing out your pleasure as long as possible. His eyes never left yours, the love you felt for each other in that moment, palpable in the room.

Your fingers tangled into his hair, you tugged his head towards yours as you kissed him. He kissed you back, his movements becoming more frantic, his thrusts deep and rough.

His eyebrows arched upwards, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing. Your clung to his shoulders, moaning his name as he found his release deep inside of you. He held you close as he came down, the two of you a tangle of limbs and sweaty bodies.

He kept kissing you, soft and unhurried, his hand stroking your thigh, keeping you connected and still wrapped around him. You both caught your breath as you held each other close, neither wanting the moment to end.

"I've had a crush on you since the first day I saw you," you murmured into his ear, causing him to pull away and smile.

He leaned down and kissed your forehead, "And I, you."

He gently slipped out of you and pulled the sheets over your naked bodies, his arms encircling you in his embrace. You fell asleep in each other's arms, content and happy, dreaming of more nights just like this.

{Moodboard->}

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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[izzystizzys]

Ever since touching down on Triple Zero, both a military and quality marker for the planet in his mind, Marshall Commander Fox had become intimately acquainted with the biting pain of headaches and migraines.

This, however, feels like it’s going to make his skull cave inside out.

“I can hear voices, Thorn”, Fox hisses, wide-eyed, breathing harshly through his nose. His bucket sadly lolls around on the pavement from where he ripped it off in a panic, unable to breathe all of a sudden. But even exposure to the open air hasn’t helped much - now, Fox just feels like a fish drowning in water, desperately breathing in the air but unable to keep it in his lungs.

“I mean, we all hear voices, ori’vod, that’s really less concerning than if you couldn’t -“, Thorn begins, hands stretched out towards Fox like he’s trying to approach a rabid beast. “Voices, Thorn!”, Fox repeats, whisper-screaming over the strange sensation of all his blood pooling in his head and ears popping. “In my kriffing head!”

Thorn’s mouth opens to gape, then closes again immediately, countenance turning decidedly more alarmed than before. Fox crumbles to the ground, head clutched in his hands, moaning in painpainpainpain-

The only thing like this he’s felt before is after one of his private meetings with the Chancellor, the one he never lets anyone else have and Fox never remembers. It feels like there’s something else in his head, worming around his thoughts and bouncing off the insides of his skull-

“- is kriffing losing it, Thire, I don’t know what to do -“

“- keep position, help is -“

“- kriffing RED ALERT, what the -“

“- do you mean a karking Venator exploded over Coruscant?!”

“- call it the Zillo Beast - it caved in the side of the ship, apparently, and is making for the surface -“

The pressure inside Fox’s head increases, warmth dripping over his cheeks and from his noise, swelling until he thinks his head really will explode, and then - stops-

Fox looks up, gasping, at the shadow that has fallen across his and Thorn’s patrol, into two massive, glowing eyes. The thing tilts its head, and chirps. It sounds like a greeting.

Silence. Then -

“You’re right”, Fox says, in a daze, “we should kill the Chancellor.”

“WHAT”, Thorn screeches.

———————————

Fox wakes an indeterminate amount of time later to a gentle breeze and nebulous feeling in his head. This is strange for several reasons - one, Guard HQ are both insulated and airconditioned like ass, thus the temperature is always wrong and the air constantly stuffy, and two - he hasn’t woken up not in pain since touching down two years ago.

“Stabby gave you the good shit”, his own voice says, and yeah, that would explain that.

“Stabby is a little bitch”, Fox tries to say, which comes out more like a warbled gurgle. “You’re welcome”, a third voice replies, sarcastically. Fox pries open his eyes with great difficulty. Ah, yes, that’s Stabby looming across the room - and Stone, next to his bedside, lounging in a chair next to a passed-out Thorn, whose head is tilted across the back of his chair at an angle that will definitely put a crick in it.

And, behind them, where the medbay wall used to be, two gigantic, glowing green eyes, tilting along with the rest of the eldritch face floating next to Fox’s bed.

“Hgngndndnsndnfnfffhhh”, he vocalizes, and Stone shrugs. “Yeah, been there the whole time. Do you remember anything?” Fox frowns. Stabby snickers somewhere from his far corner, quietly bustling around and probably concocting something nefarious to make Fox sleep or “take a break”.

Stone’s eyebrows rise incrementally. “Really? Not even when you mounted the space monster, took a joyride through half of Coruscant, crashed through the Senate Dome and battled a lightning-launching Chancellor?”

Fox blinks. The Zillo Beast chirps cheerfully. “Huh.” A sense of strange, deep satisfaction spreads through Fox’s chest, raising goosebumps. “Did we bite his head off? I think we bit his head off.”

Stone chokes, and Stabby races over to thump him on his back, Fox watching warily for any sharp objects. You never know on that one - one second he’s checking your pupils for dilation, then you’ve got a needle sticking out of you and boom, ten hours gone. Or suddenly you’re spitting out decaf - ew - at five kriffing in the morning, being lectured about heart health and some other banthashit.

Something that feels strangely like a chuckle titters across Fox’s mind, and when he looks over, the Zillo Beast is blinking innocently at him.

“Yeah, your little friend did actually bite off the Chancellor’s head” Stone confirms, once he can breathe again. Thorn slowly stirs, until he jackknifes to awareness all at once, and then Fox has a lap full of hugging vod’ika.

“ - took twenty years off my kriffing life, goddamn, ori’vod, you’re giving me grey hair -“

“It’ll match your old man bones”, Stabby murmurs, making Thorn screech indignantly into the top of Fox’s head. The Zillo Beast trills mournfully, aiming a sad look at the medic, who shakes his head and brandishes a hypo at the thing. Fox wonders if he’ll have to intervene - he would try to hypo an eldritch space monster, the absolute lunatic. “Absolutely not - we talked about this, no scritchies until we can be sure it won’t bust more of Fox’s ribs!”

Fox’s mouth opens, and Thorn snickers mercilessly. Stone, far too dignified for it, buries a grin in a datapad. “It’s imprinted on you, Fox’ika”, he says instead, the traitor. “Tried to gte to you in the Jedi temple, but it wouldn’t fit - which is when we brought you here. The interior design was so butt-kriffing ugly it wouldn’t matter much to tear it out.”

“Imprinted?”, Fox asks, not even willing to touch on anything else that’s been said yet. An image flashes across the inside of his skull - him, tossing a space-tennis-ball into the air, and the Zillo Beast slithering off after it. In reality, it perks up and mrows hopefully at Fox God, he wishes he was still insensate. Thorn snickers again, and the desire increases tenfold.

“Yeah, like in that one holoshow, whatchacallit - with that one blonde chick, the Mother of Krayts - you know, the one that made Hound cry when they killed the loth wolves so we had to ban it in barracks?” Thorn’s eyes light up. “Wait, does that make you the mother of Zillos?!”

“Oooh, mummy Fox!”, Stabby screeches, the absolute traitor. Stone breaks out into barking laughter, and Thorn sounds like he’s actively asphyxiating. Fox hates them. Fox turns to the Zillo Beast.

“Please, please eat them.”

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (3)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation. She also never thought she’d encounter her one-night-stand again—the awkward stranger who isn’t exactly that good in bed… Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong. But the more he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, the more he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: she gets involved in a murder case she least expected as a familiar face greets her. wc: 3,7k

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, blood, graphic details of murder

A/n: this part is kind of slow but it’s very important for the plot

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

Y/N WAS GOING TO QUIT. She was sure of it. Her mind was constantly trying to plan how she would execute the idea without making a scene because she considered slamming her resignation letter on Jamison's desk, dramatically claiming him as a disgusting, chauvinistic bitter old man who only got laid because his wife took pity on him.

She was walking back to her desk after bearing another one of his, "I don't think you can do the job, L/n. Let the men go out to the field and cover the story."

She was also a journalist, for god's sake. And a good one at that. What made that old man think she wasn't as capable as any other male peers around her? Was she too much of a woman to go out on the field and cover stories that were judged as too dangerous for her?

She let out a scoff. The Jamison Lynch worried about her safety? That sounded even more absurd.

"He did it again, didn't he?" Y/n found Sandy, the closest friend she had in this male-dominated agency, peering over her cubicle. She was from the finance department and would often come to entertain her whenever she needed an ear to cry out her frustration. "What is it this time?"

She cleared her throat and made an attempt of lowering her voice into a deeper pitch. "L/n, I don't think you understand how dangerous it is for you to be out there. Let the men do the job."

Sandy laughed. "That's actually a good impression. What work was he talking about?"

"Kevin Marshall's case." Y/n sat back in her chair and frowned. "The ironic thing is, I was the one who found out about this case. I told him about doing a story of it before he snitched this opportunity and gave it to Eric."

"So Eric's covering the story now?"

"Yeah." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "They're still talking about it in his office."

Sandy blew a low whistle. "That sucks."

She felt beyond frustrated. It seemed so unfair how she always got the bad end of the stick just because she wasn't born with a penis. She told Sandy exactly that which she cackled in return.

"On a serious note," Sandy muttered after her fits of laughter died down and leaned closer. "What happened to Mr. Marshall was terrible."

"You didn't hear this from me, but the police found him stabbed to death and..." she looked around their surroundings, motioning her friend to inch closer. "...there was some writing carved on his body."

Sandy's eyes went wide. "No way."

She nodded. "A friend of a friend of a friend of mine heard it from the forensic team."

"What were the words?"

"Well, if I were to be the one assigned to this case, we would've found out." She shook her head and let out another frustrated cry. "I'm going to quit this job."

"You said that last month," Sandy reminded her. "And the month before that, also, the month before that. Oh, did I mention you also said that several months ago—"

She held out her hand. "Alright, I got it." She glanced over the closed door at the end of the hallway, her mind drifting towards the two men discussing her supposedly case behind it. "I really mean it this time."

"Sure," Sandy absentmindedly agreed. "Wait, didn't you know Mr. Marshall?"

"Not really. I only met him once for work." She winced as her thought traveled to the time she encountered the man who was brutally murdered two days ago. "Let's just say he wasn’t exactly the greatest person to interview."

"No kidding."

She dismissed the topic by waving her hand. "It happened a long time ago, let's not bring that up. I'd feel terrible bad-mouthing him after what happened." She then let out a sigh. "It would be quite a story to cover though."

"Yeah, well, screw Jamison for taking it away for you." Sandy's eyes suddenly gleamed as they narrowed towards the automatic door at the corner of the room. "At least your boyfriend is here."

Y/n spotted the young man walking their way and laughed. "He's not my boyfriend."

"I don't think he got the memo," Sandy whispered before straightening herself, giving the man a huge grin as he stopped at her desk. "Hey, Oliver."

"Hi, Sandy." He greeted slowly. "How are you?"

"Better now that I've seen your pretty face."

Oliver Walsh was indeed an absolutely stunning man. He was tall and lean with broad shoulders and a very defined face. He was a little mysterious and reserved, but underneath that veneer was someone who was kind and caring.

He might not be the most outgoing person, but he had a genuine sweetness that made him attractive and likable. He also happened to have the hugest crush on Y/n the moment he first stepped foot inside this building.

Oliver gave Sandy a smile. "You look beautiful yourself."

Sandy rolled her eyes playfully. "We know I'm not the one you should be sweeping off her feet." She then gave Y/n a pointed look. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"What? You're going home already?"

"Got a hot date tonight!" Sandy overly shared before sauntering out of their sight. Y/n shook her head at her friend's antics before glancing up to see Oliver staring at her with the same look he had been giving her ever since the moment he had introduced himself.

His clear affection didn't go unnoticed. It somehow managed to be a public assumption that he was head over heels for her, something that was often discussed between their peers. As much as she wanted to reciprocate his feelings because she understood how difficult it was to be on the other side of unrequited love, she merely saw him as a guy she often worked with.

"Can I help you, Oliver?" She asked, already weary of the grin plastered on his face.

"No, I just wanted to see how you were doing."

Her face fell at his words. "How I'm doing?"

"I heard Jamison snatched a very important job from you."

"Wow," she gasped, not understanding how he knew this information already. But then again, people had the tendency to share things they overheard. "News really does travel fast around here."

"There's no such thing as secrets in this place. But seriously, how are you holding up?"

She simply shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Angry? Frustrated? Like I want to strangle Jamison myself?"

"Y/n, there's no such thing as a bad bone in your body."

"What? You don't think I'm capable of hurting him?"

"Nope. You're the sweetest person I know."

She snorted. "That's because you keep seeing me through rose-tinted glass."

"Maybe." Oliver crossed his arms and leaned his hips over her desk. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

She shook her head. He raised his brows. "Really? You can't think of anything?" She shook her head again. "Perhaps something to appease your frustration? Chocolate? You do love chocolate."

"I do, but I don't think anything sweet can even calm me down."

"Then how about a drink? Coffee? Beer? You and me? Together? Tonight?"

She let out a disbelief laugh as she stood up, making an attempt to gather her things. "Don't be so sly, Oliver."

He merely gave her a bashful smile. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

"It's never going to work between us." She paused dramatically. "Do you want to know why?"

He slowly nodded, eying her with earnest interest.

"Because you see, Oliver," she drawled as she closed the distance between them. She peered up at him through her lashes and threw him a grin. "I never mix business with pleasure."

She gave him a playful wink before turning around, leaving him dumbfounded and speechless as he stood there where she had left him. He let out an amused laugh before calling out, "I'm going to make you change your mind!”

She lifted her hand and waved at him without looking back. "Goodnight, Walsh."

His laughter was the last thing she heard before she turned around the corner, heading towards the parking area.

Turning him down was the right thing to do. She was not in the right place to be emotionally involved with other people right now. After going through so many heartbreaks and disappointments in the past, she couldn't take any more of the dating scene. It was just a bunch of awkward interactions and unmet expectations while feeling worn down by the whole process. She couldn't even remember the last time she was involved with a man.

A sudden mock laughter rang at the back of her head. You were involved with a complete stranger two nights ago!

Romantically, she corrected. She couldn't remember the last time she was involved with a man romantically.

Oh, great. Now she was fighting with herself upon what had happened that night. That... overwhelming and embarrassing night which she did not want to speak of. Overwhelming because of how much she wanted to see him again, embarrassing because she knew he did not feel the same.

She groaned as her mind somehow drifted to memory, her mind reminiscing that intoxicating feeling of his tongue inside her mouth for the first time. Or that moment before he settled above her, sinking between her legs as the tip of his hard, throbbing length squeezed into her warm entrance—

No! Don't even go there!

She stopped her pace and stood by the entryway of the parking lot, trying to calm her erratic heartbeat. She needed a moment to breathe. Between her frustration toward her boss, the constant interest from her fellow colleague, and the rush of sexual heat at that core memory, her head was starting to spin.

It wasn't until a sudden weight shoved her from the back that she woke from her trance. She jolted forward from the impact before her bag fell onto the ground, the remnants of her things spilling out, and scattered along her feet. "What the hell?"

She looked up to see the back side of a man moving forward in a hurry, not even sparing her a glance.

"Hey!" She shouted, clearly annoyed by the fact an unidentified man wearing a dark hoodie covering his face didn't have the decency to apologize. When he turned around the corner and escaped her line of vision, she realized she wasn't going to get the apology she desired.

She picked up her belongings while muttering curses under her breath. Her phone which lay a few inches away from her feet suddenly vibrated, the loud sound of an incoming call echoing throughout the open space of the lot. She peered over towards the screen and groaned.

She shoved the phone inside her bag and went on her way as she spotted her car. "Now's not the time, Jamison," she mumbled to herself, already irritated by how the night had turned out.

Her phone went silent again. It wasn't until she was a few feet away from her car that it began its chime a second time. The sound felt heavy in her ears and she finally got to her car, leaned against it, and reluctantly dug into her bag to retrieve the device.

She clutched onto it with disdain because Jamison was known to be persistent while also being inconsiderate and thoughtless. If she ignored him he would find another way to get under her skin. She slumped against the cool material of her car and slowly took a deep, aggravating breath before receiving the call. "Yes, Jamison—"

There was heavy breathing at the end of the line. A static sound greeted her before a loud crash echoed in the background. She looked over her phone screen before pressing it back against her ear. "Jamison?"

"...help..."

His croaked voice shot shivers down her spine. She straightened herself as panic washed over her body. Her boss was known for being very loud as he loved being the center of attention. But his voice sounded so quiet now. It didn't have that hint of self-centered confidence he liked to portray. It even sounded as if he were... in pain?

"Jamison?" She gulped and without thinking of her actions, her feet somehow moved on their own, navigating her back to where she had left. "Jamison, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Can you hear me?"

"...Y/n..." Crash. Cough. Gasp. "...help—"

The line went dead.

Y/n wasn't exactly a fit person. Her only form of physical activity would be the number of stairs she climbed up and down in her apartment building. But her feet were moving very fast on its own right now. She didn't care how running in a pair of flats wasn't the best idea, the mortification of something awful happening to someone asking for her assistance was gnawing into her consciousness.

The moment she was on her office floor, she took notice of how nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. The place was exactly how she had left minus all the people hanging by their respective desks. Because it was very, very quiet and the silence felt oddly eerie to her. Half of the lights were off and her steps halted for a moment as she entered her cubicle space, suddenly self-aware of the possibility of how something dangerous might occur.

Then she heard a scream. A deep, dreadful scream followed by a train of curses came from what she assumed was Jamison's office. Her feet moved again and her frightened demeanor was replaced by concern as she increased her pace, turning to the hallway towards his office.

Her movement faltered when she realized she wasn't alone. A very frightened-looking Eric Adler stood by Jamison's door before he turned around at the sound of her footsteps.

"Eric?"

His voice was etched with panic and horror as he rushed forward and held her by the arms. "No, Y/n."

"...what?" Her eyes shot behind him, noticing Jamison's door jarred open. She tried to escape his grip. "You don't understand. He called me—"

"No. Please. You don't want to see him in there—"

"Let go of me! He called—"

"Y/n." His grip tightened. "He's—he's... gone."

She looked up to see her coworker, the same man who simply stood in silence this evening as he took the job she had wanted. The confused look in his eyes from the sudden responsibility he had to take on that particular moment was now replaced by terror; a look of sheer horror, one which conveyed utter fear and panic. It was a look of complete devastation and utter helplessness, a look that made his soul seem to have been just sucked out of his body. It was the kind of look that conveyed the deepest despair one could possibly feel.

He's gone.

Gone could mean a lot of things. It could mean disappearance. It could mean an emotional state of feeling disconnected from the world. But this gone... she understood what it meant. She understood the weight of the word the moment her eyes spotted the surge of blood coming from Jamison's office.

There was so much blood that she should've felt disgusted by the amount of it, but her mind was too busy trying to convince herself that it was real. It wasn't until her eyes spotted a hand sprawled lifelessly across the floor that her stomach started to churn. The stone rings circling around the fingers were the exact rings she often saw on her boss.

The realization on her face had Eric pulling her away. But before he could drag her, she saw a glimpse of the lifeless body, and what she caught had her completely stunned. More than feeling mortified by the scene, a sense of bewilderment settled in. The disbelief of such a coincidence happening etched her mind as she peered over the body one last time.

Because something was carved along his arm.

There was a lot of waiting. Feeling impatient was one of the most frustrating things to ever exist, it made her feel anxious and restless about the lack of progress after Eric had called the authorities. He had guided her to the front area of the receptionist, given her a blanket he had found somewhere in the office—which she wasn't sure who it even belonged to—and given her a cup of warm tea as he made some calls.

She sat there, watching her coworker pace back and forth along the marble floor. She could tell Eric's mind was secretly all over the place with his disheveled hair and dark circles underneath his eyes, but somehow he managed to keep his calm.

He was steady, still a little fazed with the whole ordeal, but managed to keep checking up on her every five minutes. He even had the time to apologize for taking her job before she merely shook it off. It wasn't his decision to snatch away the opportunity. Though it felt inappropriate to point fingers at the person who actually did decide on the matter when he was lying in the other room covered in his own blood.

She shuddered again. There were so many questions running through her mind. What kind of person would do a terrible, gruesome thing to another human being? It was always the same question she had whenever she encountered such devastating news. She once read in an article that there were roughly 300,000 people who were killed by murder each year worldwide, and to think that one of them happened to somebody she knew felt so surreal.

The authorities finally came an hour later followed by a group of people wearing protective suits. The waiting for their arrival was very long, but everything happened so fast the moment they introduced themselves. A detective in an oversized suit talked to her and Eric separately, asking what happened prior to finding the body.

She suddenly felt nauseous as she recalled Jamison's phone call, how pained and desperate his voice sounded. It wasn't until she heard herself say it out loud that she realized the possibility of the killer being in the same room on that phone call. Or even in the same room as her as she entered the vicinity of their office.

"Ms. L/n?" Y/n looked up to see the detective watching her with worry. "Are you alright?"

No, she wasn't. But she merely nodded and gave him a smile. "I will be."

He returned the smile with a genuine one of his own and glanced at his watch. "You should get some sleep, Ms. L/n. If you have any more information please don't hesitate to contact us."

Then he left her standing there alone, watching people bustling around her with different equipment. She could hear the faint sound of the ambulance from the distance, smell the intoxicating scent of chemicals coming from the medics, and sense her fatigue creeping along her body as her eyes noted the time showed on the massive clock plastered on the wall.

"Ms. L/n?"

Y/n turned to see a man standing close, his dark eyes watching her cautiously. There was a sense of confidence in his posture that she couldn't help but notice. "Yes?"

"Mr. Adler told me where to find you." She frowned at the mention of Eric before her confusion deepened at the badge presented in front of her. "I'm SSA Derek Morgan from the FBI."

"FBI?"

"Yes," he confirmed, shoving his badge back into his pocket. "I'd like to ask you a few questions regarding this past event."

She crossed her arms. "I don't think my boss being brutally killed should be called an event." She steadied her gaze on him. "And I've already talked to the detective."

"My apologies, and I'm terribly sorry for your loss." He gave her an apologetic smile. "Although I would appreciate it if you can spare a few minutes of your time."

She observed him, watching him hesitantly before letting out a heavy sigh. "I guess so."

"Is there anywhere private we can talk?"

His attempt at keeping their conversation confidential from all the people swarming by had her quirking an eyebrow. She nodded and guided him toward the closest space that could provide them some privacy. "Sure... We can use the conference room down here."

"Thank you. My partner will also be present with us if you don't mind."

She looked him up and down. "There's two of you?"

"There's two of us," Agent Morgan confirmed, slightly smiling at the condescending tone of her voice. "Dr. Reid will shortly join us."

The silence after that statement was very, very palpable. The sudden stillness was one that typically left her feeling completely baffled, a state of total shock and disbelief over a familiar name unexpectedly mentioned. The uncertainty of her ability to hear left her frozen in her tracks, waiting for her brain to catch up with the sudden information. "Doctor... Reid?"

"Dr. Spencer Reid. He was talking to Mr. Adler a while ago—wait, there he is." Agent Morgan's voice grew louder as his eyes focused on the man behind them. "Reid! Over here!"

He surely couldn't be...?

She shook her head. The world wasn't that small, was it? Even though she was very bad at remembering names, how could she forget the exact same one she wrongly called as a result of her pettiness? And besides, there must be a lot of people possessing the same name, surely it was a different person.

Though the deafening lack of sound was jarring as if every other sound had been sucked out of the room. It almost felt like everything was frozen in time as her eyes settled on the man standing a few feet away from her. Because there he was, the same man who awkwardly flirted with her two days ago.

The same man who grabbed her by the waist the moment she looked up at him with need. The same man who leaned in closer, the tension charged with anticipation and desire before it lead to an explosion of passion that couldn't be quelled.

But the desperate longing in his eyes from that night was changed into mortification, and when she thought her night couldn’t go more terrible than it already was, it had gotten even worse.

>> NEXT PART

[therealcocoshady]

Somebody Save Me

A/N : Hey friends ! 🥰 My dear @shady-577 prompted me to write this little blurb, inspired by the vibe of the Somebody Save Me music video. I hope you enjoy it. It's a little angsty, but I'm making up for it with some comfort smut 😉.

Hi babe, you greeted Marshall when he walked in the house. How was the music video shoot ? 

Hey, he said. Went fine. M’exhausted. 

Yeah ? You asked. I can’t wait to see the result. When is it coming out ? 

Dunno yet, he hummed. 

Dinner’s almost ready, you announced. 

Great, he said emotionless. I’m gonna take a shower. 

Marshall left the room and went upstairs before you even had the time to say anything. He seemed off but, then again, he had spent two days on set for his upcoming music video. He hadn’t told you too much about it, though. From early on in your relationship, the two of you had set an agreement that work stayed at work. Your significant other was very much a workaholic and this allowed him to maintain a healthy work-life balance. Plus, since you’d been a fan of his long before actually meeting him, this meant you got to appreciate his work when it was ready to share with the world. Though he cared about your opinion, he never let you hear a track that wasn’t done. You weren’t really an expert when it comes to production anyway, much less a lyricist, and you certainly weren’t the one he would come to for advice. The only thing you knew about the music video he’d been shooting was that it was for Somebody Save Me, which was one of the most emotional songs on his latest album. It was one of your favorite and you couldn’t wait to see the result, most likely a few days before it was released for the world to see. Being Marshall’s girl had its perks after all. You finished making dinner and set the table. When Marshall emerged downstairs, his hair was still damp from the shower and he had changed into something comfortable. You could see the exhaustion on his face. Unsurprisingly so. He was often the first person on set and the last one to leave. During dinner, you did your best to make conversation but he wasn’t extremely talkative. 

Marsh… Are you ok ? You finally asked. 

Yeah. Sure, he shrugged. 

Do you want to talk to me about it ? You encouraged him. Tell me what it’s about. You haven’t even told me about the script ! 

I’ve had a long day, he said dryly. I don’t feel like talking about work when I woke up at 4 and just got home. 

Oh, you said. Sure. Sorry I asked. 

You ate in silence and he mumbled something about going to bed before getting up and pressing a quick and absentminded kiss to your temple, leaving you to clear the table. You stayed downstairs for a while after dinner, trying to distract yourself with some bad reality show. When you were tired enough, you went to your room and picked up Marshall’s tee-shirt, which he had only worn for dinner, from the hamper and put it on as a nightshirt. He was already asleep when you went to bed. You could only see his back, but you could hear his soft snores. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder before closing his eyes, hoping to find him in a better mood when you’d wake up. 

It was the middle of the night when you were woken up by a weird noise. Some sort of breathy grunt. You could hear Marshall’s laborious breathing, mixed with whines. You opened your eyes and turned to him. In the darkness of the room, only lit by the pale moonlight, you could see that his eyes were closed. You figured he was asleep and you almost went back to your slumber, until you heard another whine, almost a cry. He had told you before that, at some point in his life, he’d been prone to nightmares but you had never witnessed it. He had always been a rather peaceful sleeper. This was incredibly unusual for him. You heard him nearly choke and decided that you needed to wake him up. Whatever nightmare he was having needed to end. You gently cupped his cheek and called his name. 

Marshall, my love, wake up. 

He nearly jolted upon hearing you call him. You saw him open his eyes that were full of tears and stare into space, visibly stuck between dreams and reality, trying to figure out what was going on. 

I fell, he mumbled. 

No you didn’t, you said softly. You’re in bed. You’re alright. 

I was in the bathroom and I-I fell, he repeated. 

That’s when it clicked. On one occasion,  he had evoked the day he overdosed, recounting the events and how he fell in the bathroom, only to wake up in the hospital, days later. You guessed that shooting the music video for a song about his overdose triggered some bad memories. He had told you all about his past but your man wasn’t exactly one to show vulnerability too often. Seeing him like this was disturbing and it broke your heart. You could see the pain on his face and you wanted nothing but to take it away. 

You’re fine, you whispered. You are safe. 

You gently stroked his face and, after a couple of seconds, you could see him become more conscious. He closed his eyes, his chest heaving. You cupped his cheek and brushed his forehead, noticing how sweaty he was. The contact made him shiver a little, prompting you to remove your hand from his face. 

No, he pleaded. Come back. 

You placed your hand back on his cheek as tears started to roll on his face. You gently wiped them, shushing him, promising that he was alright, and so was everyone. 

I’m sorry, he sniffled. 

It’s fine, my love, you said reassuringly. It happens. 

It felt so real, he whispered. 

It was just a nightmare, you reminded him. 

Thank God. 

You pressed your forehead to his, silently praying that God would make his pain go away. Marshall pulled you closer to him, so that your chest was pressed against his. You could feel his heart being abnormally fast. 

What can I do ? You whispered. 

Just hold me, please. 

You hummed and nodded, shifting the position and allowing him to come in your arms. Your legs were intertwined and he buried his face in your neck. You ran your hands in his back, trying to soothe him, and he held you tight. You closed your eyes, expecting him to go back to sleep, but you felt him place a kiss in your neck, then another one. They went from soft pecks to open mouth kisses against your skin. 

His breathing intensified. It was heavy, needy. You could tell he was desperate for something to hold on to, to ground himself. And in that moment, that something was you. He tightened his embrace some more, his fingers digging in your soft skin through the teeshirt you were wearing. You ran your fingers through his hair, tracing circles, as he kept on mouthing at your neck. You tried to distract yourself from the fact that he was sending shivers down your spine. It felt wrong. You were not supposed to feel arousal when your man was hurting. But you couldn’t help it. Especially not when you could feel him hardening through his boxers. He started slowly grinding against you and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips. 

Marshall, you whispered. What-

Please, he begged in a hoarse voice. 

He stared at you in the obscurity with pleading eyes that said it all. It was the look of a man  that needed something, anything to quiet the voices in his head. You could see the sheer pain on his face, you could sense the urgency in his breath. You cupped his face and nodded, letting him know he could take anything he needed from you. He closed his eyes again and dug his fingers deeper in your skin, as if he wanted to make sure this was real. His face found his way back to your neck and his hands found their way under your teeshirt, eventually removing the piece of fabric that was keeping him from feeling your skin against his. His touch was everything but gentle. It was rough and feverish. Marshall’s whole body was tense and you knew he was in desperate need for some release. He resumed his grinding, rolling his hips against you. You hummed softly, tightening your embrace around him and moving in sync. He let out a groan and stopped for a moment, just long enough to take his boxers off and toss your panties somewhere in the bedroom. He stared in your eyes and held your gaze as he spread your legs and positioned himself at your entrance, before allowing himself to sink into you, earning a moan. He closed his eyes as he buried himself into you, his hands gripping you. In turn, you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. His thrusts were slow and deep, making sure to fill you to the hilt. He nuzzled your neck, letting our hoarse whimpers while you felt his body relax as he bucked into you. It seemed like the more he melted into you, the less tense he was. Marshall was usually the most generous of lovers, seeking your pleasure before his but this time was different. It wasn’t even about pleasure. It was about chasing away the demons, holding onto something tangible. You felt his tears on your skin as his hips stilled and he twitched inside of you. You held him close as he caught his breath. After a couple of minutes, he looked at you. 

Are you alright ? You asked. 

Better now, he whispered. Thank you. 

Anytime, you said as you cupped his face. Back to sleep ? 

Yeah, he mumbled. 

He laid back in bed and captured you in his embrace. You let out a yawn and closed your eyes, ready to fall back to sleep, and he gently grabbed your hand, giving it a kiss before placing it over his beating heart. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Farmer's Daughter 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You stand at the counter, waiting on the pharmacist to fill the script. Walter stands close, perusing the shelves beneath the pick-up window. You doubt he’s in the market for cough drops or nasal spray but there isn’t much to distract you.

You check the list as you slide your bag to the crook of your elbow. You chew your lip and think. While you’re here…

“Um, I’ll be right back, okay?” You say to him. He arches a brow curiously at you. You offer a soft smile, “just gotta grab something before I forget.”

He nods and paces back and forth, hands behind his back. You head down the center aisle and dip down the next. It’s close to the middle of the month and you’re running low. You search for the familiar package. Usually you get it at the grocer so you’re not familiar with the arrangement here.

You find your brand and stare up at it on the top shelf. Of course. You get on your toes and reach, grasping the shelf for balance as you teeter. Another hand snatches up the package you vie for and you turn in embarrassment as the tall blond man holds out the feminine pads.

“There you are, little one,” Thor proclaims.

You take the pads and lower your eyes to the floor, “thanks.”

“Not to worry,” he assures, “I used to fetch the very same for my sister. No need to be ashamed of your womanly needs.”

“Um, well, sure,” you giggle nervously, “I appreciate it.”

You wave the package then stop yourself and push it behind your back. You shrug and gnaw on your lip, “I… I’m just waiting for a prescription, so I should…”

“Heard about your dad,” he says, “sorry to hear it. You’ll give him my regards.”

“Yeah,” you eke out, “sure will, thanks again.”

You spin and trot away. How awkward was that. Thor’s always friendly but the last thing you need is him picking out your pads. Oh, you should’ve thought of that before you decided to add to the list.

As you look up, you find Walter waiting at the end of the aisle, watching you as you keep the package hidden behind you.

“Oh, hey,” you greet him, “got what I need.”

“Here,” he holds out the small paper bag with the pharmacy’s logo, “everything alright?”

“Sure,” you answer, trying to shake off the tingle in your cheeks.

“What did Odinson want?”

“Just asking about dad,” you shrug.

“Mm,” he grumbles.

You take the bag and move it to conceal the label on the pads. Walter’s eyes flick down at the movement but he doesn’t say anything. He raises his gaze to look over your head. You turn to watch Thor as he gives a half-wave with three fingers and struts away.

“Anyway, I’ll just pay for my stuff and meet you outside?” You face Walter again.

He’s quiet as he glares down the aisle. He’s like a statue. You’re not even sure he heard you.

“Walt?” You squeak.

He winces and looks down at you, “I didn’t know you were friends with him.”

“I’m… Everyone knows Thor,” you chime.

He shifts on his feet as his jaw ticks, “I’ll be outside.”

You sidle out of his way as he steps past you. You step back up to the counter as Bessie smiles at you. You hand over the package and dig in your purse. You pay without chattering as she offers the same condolences as everyone else you’ve run into. 

You ask for a bag and flip out, exhausted already. It’s supposed to be an escape but the stares and the soft tones just remind you of what you’re running away from. Walter stands by his truck as he waits for you. He stills himself as you approach.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

“Yep,” you reply meekly, “onto the grocery store.”

He bows his head in acquiescence. You could walk the block down to the store you suppose but you’re not thinking that far ahead. You just want to be gone.

He follows you around to the passenger’s side, again opening the door before you can. You toss the bag on the seat and reach for the interior of the door. Before you can haul yourself up, he has you around the waist, lifting you up onto the metal step. You let out a strained squeak and grasp onto the seat before sliding into it.

His hands graze off of you and he hovers, just for a moment, before he shuts the door. You look down as he lumbers around in your peripheral. You hug yourself, touching your sides where he gripped you. He touches you a lot.

You sit up as he climbs in the other side and shake off the thought. He’s just being helpful. After all he’s done, you owe him a million thanks.

He starts the engine and pulls away from the curb. He drives silently down the road and you sink down into the seat as familiar faces pace by, strolling down the pavement. Why did you think this was a good idea?”

He rolls into the dirt lot behind the grocery store and you’re quick to jump out before he can reach you. Your purse drops onto the ground as you stagger. He shuts the door before you can as he grunts.

“Careful,” he warns as he grabs your arm and pulls you straight.

“I’m good,” you snatch up your purse and lift your ankle to roll out the kink in your achilles. 

You cross the lot as he trails behind you, a towering shadow at your heels. You enter the front doors and wave to Alison, the cashier on first shift. She greets you with a grin and flips the page of the magazine opened before her till.

Walter lurks behind you as you take out the list again. You don’t need too much. You go to the stack of basket and he snakes around you to claim one first.

“Got it,” he says.

“Thanks,” you murmur and smooth out the creases in the list.

“Honeydew,” he says, “right?”

You glance up at him then over at the rows of produce. You nod and turn away, heading for the mountain of melons. Again, he’s close behind you. Like a big, grumpy dog. The thought makes you laugh and you peek over at him. You could definitely see him growling like one.

[didalexiabreakupwitholgayet]

Hey please could you translate some of the best bits of patri's vid? Or maybe random videos that anons send you 🙏

sure, here's the main parts of this video! 🫡

source: fcbfemeni on twitter

translation under the cut!

"well, first day, with a strange feeling because at the end it's a long flight but the truth is that i'm super excited about this week here for the upcoming matches. on the plane i tried not to sleep, although at the end i fell asleep a little, but i tried not to sleep on purpose so that when we arrived we could have dinner and sleep. and the truth is that i woke up several times because it is normal in the end. but the truth is that it was pretty good. i expected it to be worse."

"well, it's true that coming from the olympic games we are doing a progressive preseason because it's also a month ago and we have preseason, but today we are doing very well, to get the feeling again back with the team, again with the coach, with the teammates, more tactical things, the truth is that the first training here was quite well."

"yes, mapi is always funny!"

"normally we are always in communication with our nutritionist, mireia, with marshall, to know a little bit about the menus, especially when we have trips like this during a week that we go out, because we have all the meals with the club, so we want to know all the menus. the truth is that these are also our moments to be together, to talk and also of course to make fun of each other a little bit. well, mapi was going to steal a macaron, i think, a piece of macaron. and i think in the end she didn't steal it, i think she didn't take it and she said 'oh jana sorry, i think i grazed it' and you know there's always a good feeling here."

"man, well, we are very excited because in the end when we come, the reception we always get, as we said when we also went to mexico, the truth is that everyone was very excited with us at the stadium, in the meet and greets and the truth is that for that, for us it is to be proud of."

"they are appreciated because in the end you need those moments of laughter, of fun, those moments of joy and laughter that for us give us a little life, they are more formal moments. and for us, to make it a little fun, we saw stickers on there and well, we started to stick them a little on the back. they stuck one on me and i didn't realise it."

[commanderfoxdeservesbetter]

Clone Wars: When the world ends

Fox watches as Coruscant burns, his men scrambling behind him as democracy falls to the dust. His hands tighten behind his back as he watches smoke rise from the Jedi Temple, a parallel to the smoke rising here in the Senate building.

The screams of Senators and screeching of speeders zooming by barely drowns out the cries that is clones and Jedi alike fighting off the protestors on the street.

Several Venators lift from the Jedi Temple, filled to the brim with younglings and clone cadets, guarded by at least two Jedi Masters and several Clone Commanders and Captains.

He stands amidst the Chancellor's office, his boss’ late body strewn across the floor. Anakin stares emptily at his friend's beheaded head and Fox wonders if he’s actually grieving the man or grieving himself.

Fox’ fingers clench around the comm that continues to relay the emergency alert across the GAR.

Thorn shouts evacuation orders in the background, grabbing Senators from the burning building.

Or at least the ones that he wants to help.

The Senators that have degraded his men and shouted insults and passed laws to make it harder for a clone to live, for a Jedi to stop fighting...

Well, when it's the end, what value do they hold to a clone who's loyalty is for their men and their Jedi?

Thorn turns his back, refusing his men the right to help them. He signals to Stone who open fires on them, pulling Padme and Bail towards the rescue speeders.

A chime echoes in the room, and Fox glances down to see it coming from his comm.

Marshall Commander Cody.

He answers.

"Where are you?" No greeting. No formalities.

Desperation coats his words and Fox wonders how much time they have left.

"We are on our way." Thorn has finished loading up the last of the speeders, while Thire runs back in to make sure no clones are left behind.

He comes back with only two shinies and Fox knows they are ready to evacuate the building.

"We don't have much longer. Our last ship is ready to deport. What's your ETA?"

Thorn waves them forward, jumping on to a speeder bike. He signs to Fox from below, and Fox answers. "T-minus 20 minutes.”

Anakin comes up next to him, his robotic hand creaking as it grips tight around the handle of his lightsaber.

"We will wait 25." Fox nods in acknowledgment, ready to hang up when Cody stops him. "Fox?" He stares down at Cody's concerned face. "We'll meet you here, right?"

Fox doesn't speak for a while, his eyes flicking up to the burning city around him. Anakin quietly snorts at the question and Fox can feel his gold eyes staring into the side of his temple.

"Yes," he lies. "Just look out for my armor." He hangs up before Cody can say anything more.

Thorn's armor is heavy on him, unfamiliar despite being the same size.

As he follows Anakin out of the office, red blade lighting the way, he can't help but wonder...

Are they the villains??

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [18]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: self doubt, anxiety, angst

Word Count: 5,514

Updates every Thursday!

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

#18: TALK ABOUT A POWER COUPLE

.

"the feeling of being curled up in your arms with our fingers intertwined and the soft feel of your breath on my neck can never be put into words, I can, however, tell you that it is where I belong and it is in those arms that I feel at home." -B.R.K.

.

Grogu bounced on your bed happily as you tucked your scrub shirt into the matching bottoms. “Ma!” You grabbed your white coat. “Ma! Ma! Watch!” Grogu continued to bounce. You turned while pulling your hair out of your face and grinned as he jumped high enough to flip over and land on his back with a laugh. “You now!”

“Silly boy.” You held your arms out and he didn’t hesitate to crawl to his feet then jump into your arms. “Ma has to go to work and you have to get to school. No time for jumping.” Grogu whined in your arms until you began to tickle him. “Where’s your buir?”

“Ih.” Grogu pointed out your door.

You hummed and walked out still holding him. “No, no. Where is he? What do we say?”

Grogu babbled a bit before pushing out half the word, “Chen.”

“Mhmm. Kitchen.” You put emphasis on every bit of the word. “Kitchen.”

“Kitchen.”

You cooed and cheered the little victory and Grogu beamed at the praise. Din stood by the island counter doing something on his communicator. Without looking up, he asked, “What’re we so happy about?”

“Grogu, what room are we in?” You prodded. “Tell buir.”

Din immediately looked up from his communicator⏤ focus solely on his son. The little boy grinned, “Kitchen. Buir, ma, Grogu, in kitchen.”

“Ad’ika, that’s incredible!” Din praised. He held his arms out and you let Grogu crawl over to him. Din held him to his chest and continued to rain more words of love and encouragement on his son. You adored that every milestone, no matter how tiny, Din always got excited. He never held back any amount of affection from the child. Before meeting Din, you would’ve guessed that Mandalorians were distant and cold like their armor, but you had never met a parent so warm and involved. “Did ma teach you that?”

“Lek.” Grogu chirped.

Din tapped his forehead against Grogu’s briefly before setting the boy down. “Now, go get your bag. That’s what I sent you back there to begin with.”

You watched the boy waddle away and when he disappeared through the kitchen arch you turned back to have Din standing right in front of you. Your lips curled up into a grin as you stared up at him. “Well, hi there, Marshal.”

“Doc.” Din greeted in return. One of his hands wrapped around the back of your elbow so he could pull you toward him. Without further prompting, you closed your eyes. Din chuckled in response and you heard a quiet hiss before his lips pressed against yours. The Mandalorian was a very quick learner. His first kiss was supposedly with you three days ago, but the way he kissed you made you doubt if you had really been his first. Din’s tongue traced your lower lip, a warm rush shooting down your spine, and you parted your lips to give him room to explore. Maker, you could spend an eternity just like this. 

Ever since that first kiss, Din had been insatiable. If there were a spare moment of the day where he could be kissing you he was. You felt like he was one day away from asking you to walk around blindfolded so he wouldn’t have to waste time with his helmet, and you were so drunk on his lips that if he did ask you wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. Din shifted so he could leave open mouth kisses along your jawline to the shell of your ear then down your throat. You reached up to tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck⏤ you were growing obsessed with the soft curls.

Too soon, Din pulled back and you sighed. He pressed a chaste, simple kiss to your lips before leaving your space. You kept your eyes closed until his heavy helmet pressed against your forehead. A silent way of telling you it was safe to open your eyes. Grogu’s voice called out from behind the two of you and you pulled apart. 

“Come on, you little womp rat. Before you’re late for school.” Din scooped Grogu up. You followed the boys out of the house, and the three of you made your way down the street in the early morning air. It was a cozy existence as long as you ignored the ticking time bomb that was their departure. Next week. Din said next week. You had pushed that information aside to emotionally deal with another day. Right now, you only wanted to soak in how perfectly domestic your life felt right now.

There was just one problem.

Din would not fuck you.

Spice never appealed to him. Din didn’t fully understand the concept of becoming so addicted to something that it was all one ever craved. However, if consuming spice had even a fraction of the high Din felt when he was kissing you then he grasped the addiction mindset entirely. Maker. He didn’t know if it was the act of kissing itself that was overwhelming him or if it was just the act of kissing you specifically, but if Din were a betting man he’d know where he’d set his credits. 

Din knew you wanted more. If he thought it had been hard to resist pinning you against the wall before it was damn near impossible now with the way you looked at him. The longing he saw in your eyes after he returned his helmet to its rightful place was powerful enough to send him to his knees if he allowed it. The only reason he didn’t, the only reason he was stupid enough to not cross that line, was because of how badly he wanted to do this right. Having you be his first kiss had proven that further to him.

You owned so much of him without even fully realizing it. Din may have had sex before, but you were the first person he had truly been intimate with. In his mind, he couldn’t even consider sex as something intimate. It had always been so focused, impersonal, and goal oriented. Din never shed his armor to have someone see his skin or trace his scars with their lips. Din had never risked putting all his trust in a person to keep their eyes closed so he could remove his helmet and experience a kiss. Din had never been a courting Mandalorian exploring the body of his lover for the sole purpose of memorizing the way his partner’s skin felt against his and the sounds that would leave them. Din Djarin had never made love, and that’s what he wanted with you.

In his eyes, he was looking ahead. Din was building a future with you, and the foundation would be started once he went to Mandalore.

“Okay, but, what happens if you get there and there are no ‘living waters’?” Mayfeld asked from his desk.

Vanth, who was throwing darts at the board on the wall, spoke without looking up, “I think he comes back and kicks your ass for jinxing him, deputy.” Vanth glanced over with a shrug. “Just guessing.”

“It’s Mayfeld.” He corrected and narrowed his eyes.

“Isn’t that what I said?” Vanth smirked.

Din wondered if the city would be left standing when he returned. He ignored the two men who were now distracted with trying to out jab one another. It would be a lie to say Din wasn’t concerned about Mandalore. The stories he heard growing up in the covert described a glassed world of ruin and poison. The fact that this was his introduction to Mandalore was rather sad. Din wasn’t the kind to linger on this kind of line of thinking though. He needed to bathe in the living waters so that’s exactly what he was going to do. End of story.

You motioned to the three jars in the middle of the row, “These?”

Aayla thought for only a second before nodding with a smile, “Cymbopogan, Echinops, and Panicum. Ingredients for anti-pyretics.”

“Good.” You praised. “And⏤”

“Doctor?” You and Aayla both turned at the sound of Miriam’s voice. She had poked her head into the room. “Your, uh, cousin is here?”

You chuckled at the confusion in her voice and let her know Nima could come back. Aayla turned to the supply shelf and said she’d do quick inventory with restock. You thanked her and began to leave when Nima came storming in.

“Alright, so I def saw Mando walking you into work this morning, and you guys are literally the cutest.” Nima said. She jumped onto a cot and crossed her legs. “I mean, talk about a power couple. The marshal and the medic of Nevarro.”

“We’re technically not a couple.” You chuckled.

“You’re saying that to the person who already declared you two married.” Nima shook her head. “This is a losing argument on your part.”

“Fine. What do you need?” You asked. Nima pointed to her arm and you shook your head. “No. I told you. Weeks, not hours. You are not getting this damn brace⏤”

“Maker, will you chill??” Nima groaned. “I just want you to clear me for light duty.” You opened your mouth to scold her again, and Nima quickly cut in. “And by light duty I mean walking around the garage and organizing tools or something.”

You crossed your arms skeptically. “Nima, can you seriously be in a garage and keep yourself from working? You’re healing so well, but if you slip up and injure yourself⏤”

“I know. I swear I’ll be good.” Nima replied. “But, I am dying at home without something to do. Please. Peli said she’d be okay with me doing light work, and she was super serious about keeping me from the real stuff.”

You did trust Peli to keep Nima from getting too crazy. The only person in this city who may be more protective over the Twi’lek than you was the mechanic. Besides, you knew how much of a busy body Nima was. She was constantly on the move, and the fact that she had managed to be good for this long was basically a miracle. Especially considering the recent loss of love with Cara. You offered her a soft smile and stepped forward to examine her arm.

“Alright,” You made sure each of the brace’s locks were tight and in place, “You can do light work, but I’m serious about staying away from anything other than organizing.” Nima bounced in place with a wide grin. “No heavy lifting. Literally none. If it weighs more than ten pounds, you get someone else to pick it up.”

“Deal!” Nima squealed and threw her arms around you. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Mhmm.”

“So,” She drew the word out while pulling away to sit back on the cot, “How are you feeling?” You raised an eyebrow and shook your head. Nima rolled her eyes. “About Mando leaving, dummy.” You winced at the painful reminder and Nima noticed. “Sorry.”

You forced a smile. “It’s fine. I just… I’m trying not to think about it.”

“Not to make you think about it more by asking, but… do you know how long he’ll be gone?”

“Nope.” You answered quickly, and it wasn’t a lie.

It wasn’t that Din was trying to withhold that truth from you. He had been sincere when he told you that he truly didn’t know. He hoped it’d be two weeks at the most, but he couldn’t guarantee it. That terrified you to your core. Maker forbid anything happen to Din or Grogu. You didn’t think you could survive that.

“They’re going to be okay.” Nima set her arm on your shoulder. “Mando is such a badass. He’s⏤ He’s invincible with all that beskar, you know?”

You chuckled. “Of course.”

But you knew that was far from the truth. 

Kurt never expected to lose Soran so suddenly and violently, but the world still took her. She was gone in a blink of an eye, and she hadn’t even been throwing herself head first toward a poisoned and maybe cursed planet.

In your eyes, you needed to take advantage of every moment⏤ cherish it⏤ as nobody ever knew how many moments they had left. It all just started with you taking that terrifying leap of putting yourself out there. A plan settled in your mind.

“I think I found someone with an interest to come work here in medicine.” Karga said. Din sat comfortably in the chair placed in front of Karga’s desk while the High Magistrate paced behind the desk. He had been called here for a meeting, but it seemed Karga just wanted a sounding board of some kind. “But we need another deputy, I think. Don’t know if two is enough while you’re gone, and I’m still not so sure about Mayfeld and this Vanth fella working together.”

“They’ll be fine.” Din replied. If it came down to it, Din trusted both men in a fight and had no doubt they’d be able to set aside any differences for the safety of all. Probably. “Just focus on getting that second physician. That should be your priority.”

“Fine.” Karga grumbled. “Looking out for your woman. Respectable.” Din sighed and kept his body still enough to convey annoyance to the High Magistrate, but his lips still curled up into a small smile. His. You were his. Technically, Din should ask you how you felt on that topic, but he personally liked that most of the city considered you taken by him The possessive side of him preened at that notion. “While you’re out, you planning on saying hello to Daelar?”

“If I have the time.” Absolutely. The answer was absolutely. It was going to be the first stop he made, and as if fate was on his side the world Daelar was hiding on was on the way to Mandalore anyways. Din would keep it quiet though.

“Technically, the bounty is for him to be brought in alive.” Karga added.

“I know.” Din replied. He just didn’t care.

“Well, we need⏤” Karga began, but Din’s communicator began to beep. He glanced down at his vambrace to see who was reaching out to him, and when he realized it was your frequency number he connected the call to his helmet. Din called out your nickname, and Karga threw his hands up. “Really, Mando, I⏤”

Din held a hand up to keep the Magistrate from talking any further. Your voice greeted him, “Hey, are you busy right now?”

“Of course not. I can speak.” Din said as Karga set his hands on his hips. “Is something wrong?”

“No! Nothing. I, um, Grogu is going over to a friend’s house after school. I spoke to their parents and they said they’d walk Grogu home around dinner time.” You replied. Din glanced at the clock in Karga’s office. It was about half an hour until the normal pick up time.

Din nodded. “Sure. That’s fine.”

“And, I was thinking,” You began and Din noted a nervous energy in your voice, but it also held excitement so he wasn’t too concerned, “If you’re not busy maybe you could meet me at home? Kind of a mid-day break?”

“Alright.” Din chuckled and pushed to stand. “I’ll see you soon, then?”

“Yes! See you soon!”

Din hung up and gave Karga his attention once more. He shrugged, “I have to go.”

“Is this work related or personal?” Karga questioned. “Because I will remind you that I am your employer.”

“I’m aware. Call Vanth if you need anything.” Din gave the man a small wave before walking out.

With his departure date quickly arriving, Din wanted to spend any spare moment he could with you. This would be the first time he left a place behind and craved to go back to this degree. Even back during his main bounty hunting years, he always had Grogu with him. Din traveled with his family so there was no sense of longing. He actually felt guilt as well. As much as Din loved having Grogu around, he never loved how easily the boy could fall into danger, and Din was fully aware of how dangerous this upcoming trip could be. With you, he finally had a safe place to leave Grogu, but Din hated the idea of leaving you on a world to be a single parent while also trying to juggle a new job that asked so much of you. 

His best bet was to just be back as soon as possible. Unless things went wildly out of control, Din was guessing he could be back in a little over two weeks. That was two weeks too many, but he knew how to be efficient. Plus, having you at home waiting for him would be the best kind of motivation to hurry.

When his home came into view, Din’s pace increased. He expected to be greeted by you when he stepped in, but was instead met by an empty kitchen and living room. Had he beaten you here? Din called out and was quickly met with your faint reply.

“I’m back here!”

Curious, Din entered the back hall and followed your voice. Din realized your voice was coming from his room, but he didn’t think anything of it until he stepped into the doorway. You were sitting on the edge of his made bed wearing nothing but undergarments and one of his shirts. Din stiffened and the sudden but immediate hunger he had for you slammed into him like a racing landspeeder. 

“Hey there, Marshal.” You greeted.

Din felt the air leave him. As if an airlock had been opened and sucked the oxygen right out of his lungs. In his mind, he could already feel your warm skin under his bare hands⏤ could feel your soft lips between his. Din wanted to peel off the remaining clothes you had on, and explore every inch of you with his mouth alone. He wanted to take the memory of you moaning beneath him to Mandalore.

“You just gonna stand there all day?” You asked.

Maker, you were perfect.

Anticipation mingled with desperation and desire as Din began to cross the room to you. He tore off his gloves, tossing them aside, and you straightened your spine⏤ eager. Din was only a few steps away when he came to an abrupt stop. You frowned watching as his hands clenched and unclenched. There was tension in his entire frame.

“Din?” You questioned.

“I⏤ We⏤” Din cleared his throat and shook his head. “Uh, no.”

It was almost funny how a single word composed of only two little letters could turn every ounce of want into shame. You could feel every inch of your skin burn in embarrassment. “Right.” You quickly shoved yourself to stand. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I⏤ Sorry.”

You tried to rush away, but Din caught you by your arms and held you in front of him. He shook his head, but you tried to avoid letting your eyes land on his dark visor. “No, I didn’t mean⏤ Ner kar’ta, please let me explain.” You pressed your lips together and Din didn’t speak again until you focused your gaze back on him. “Can you⏤ Do you trust me?”

“You know I do.” You mumbled.

Din let his hands leave you hesitantly and you watched him dig through his drawers until he found what he was looking for. He returned with a long sleeve shirt, folding it up, and he brought it toward you to hold it up in front of you. Understanding what he wanted, you gave him a small nod. Din softly set the folded portion against your eyes and used the sleeves to tie it behind your head. 

With your vision gone, you felt a whole new sense of vulnerability added into the mix. 

The sound of Din’s helmet being removed⏤ the familiar hissing sound you were growing to adore⏤ filled the air. Seconds later, Din’s hands were cupping your face and you felt his forehead against yours. “Din…” He took in a shaky breath, and you raised your own hands to cover his. “Din, you said no. I’m… I’m okay with that. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want⏤”

“Don’t want?” Din let out a low chuckle that gave you goosebumps. “Ner kar’ta, I have never wanted something⏤ someone⏤ more in my entire life.” His words re-ignited the spark you had lost in fear. Din let his hands trail down your body until they reached your hips and he pulled you tight against him. His own hips pressed against yours and the hardness you felt made a hot pool of desire curl in your belly. You let out a soft gasp. Din kept one hand on your hips, squeezing his fingers into your skin, while his other traveled back up to cup your neck. His thumb traced your jawline. “Listen to me ner kar’ta, every single day it takes all my self control to not tear your clothes off and fuck you against the closest piece of furniture.” 

Maker, you were dizzy with want. Any self doubt or embarrassment you had felt was gone. There was no room for anything other than desire. Din peppered soft kisses along the side of your face until he found your lips. His tongue darted out to brush against your lower lip. You parted them, wanting to feel him closer, but rather than exploring your mouth further Din instead took your lower lip between his and sucked. You moaned and he released your lip.

He stayed in your space, his hot breath against your mouth, and when he spoke his lips brushed against yours. “Then, you call me in here, sit on my bed, in my shirt, so pretty, and tempt me even further? Ner mesh’la kar’ta. I am not that strong.”

Din went back to lazily pressing his lips along your jaw to the shell of your ear. You tilted your head up and he continued down your neck. Slowly, lingering inch by inch, Din would alternate between letting his teeth graze your skin followed by his tongue. 

“In case⏤” You sucked in a sharp breath as his teeth found a sensitive spot. “In case it isn’t blatantly clear, I am very much okay with you losing a little self control, Din.”

He chuckled, the sound reverberating against you, and he pulled your collar aside just so he could press one more kiss to your collarbone. “I’m picking up on that. But…” Maker, you’ve never hated a word so much before, “I… I⏤ Dank farrik, this is going to sound so stupid.”

There was a nervous, almost embarrassed tone, in his voice that gave you pause. Din began to pull back, but you wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him in place. “Hey, no it isn’t. Talk to me, Din.”

He sighed. “Sex has always been…impersonal to me. If I’m being honest, I probably couldn’t tell you half the names of the people I've slept with and I⏤ I’ve never been with the same woman twice.” To be honest, you hadn’t given his previous romantic life much thought at all. “It was just always clinical. A means to an end. And you’re the… you’re the first person I want more with.”

“Din…” Your lips curled into a smile.

“And I get that waiting until I’m Mandalorian once more, and properly courting you, is a nuance if anything but⏤”

“But you want that.” You finished for him softly.

“I’m sorry.” Din sighed.

“No, don’t.” You pushed yourself up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Don’t apologize for that. I get it, Din.” You beamed at him in reassurance. “I kind of feel special now.”

Din let out a quiet scoff. “You are special, and if you’re only feeling that way now then I haven’t done a good enough job making it known.” He squeezed your hips. “I’m curious what brought this on though. In the middle of the day, no less.” You hesitated, hoping he didn’t catch on, but Din was painfully observant at times. He pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Hey. Your turn. Talk to me.”

You chuckled. “I… I was scared.”

“You wanted me to fuck you because you were scared?”

A laugh left your lips and you wrapped your arms around him tighter. You rested your head against his shoulder. “Things can go wrong so fast.” Your smile faltered. “You never know how long you have until time runs out.” You could feel Din stiffen. He slowly untangled himself from your arms. “Din?”

“Don’t move.” He mumbled.

You felt him step away and you nervously played with your hands. Din was moving about and it only took a couple minutes before you could feel him approaching you once more. Arms scooped you right off the floor and you yelped in surprise⏤ your arms winding around his neck as Din held you bridal style. He had removed his armor and the upper half of his flight suit from what you could tell.

Din knelt on the bed, laying you down before half settling over you. He was pressed against your side, and from what you could tell he was caging you in with his arms. Din leaned in and pulled you into a kiss. He immediately deepened it with his hand cupping under your neck to tilt your head up to him. You lost yourself in him⏤ drunk on the sensation of his tongue against yours. When he finally pulled back, you were breathless and panting. He shifted and pressed his lips against your ear.

“Ner kar’ta.” His voice, low and hoarse with desire, filled your chest with warmth. “I will return to you. There is nothing in this galaxy that could keep me from you.” You released a shuddering breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “And when I return, I plan to make you mine in every definition of the word. I swear this to you.”

Tears welled up and you were glad to have his t-shirt there to soak them up before they could be seen. Nothing could stop the shaky gasp that left you. Din rolled onto his back, bringing you with him, and he wrapped his arms around you while you laid against him. Your head resting on his chest. Din turned his own head so he could whisper loving words in Basic and Mando’a while pressing kisses to where he could reach between each phrase.

His hand dragged up and down your spine, and you found comfort in the motion. You had sought intimacy with Din and you had found it. Perhaps, it wasn’t in the way you initially planned or thought it would be, but never had you felt closer to another human soul than right now.

You told yourself you weren’t going to cry, and it was taking every bit of strength you had to follow through on that. Saying good-bye to Grogu had been the moment to nearly push you over the edge. You knew you loved the little boy, knew he had crawled into you very heart and soul and nestled in there, but trying to say good-bye had solidified that knowledge. So, you kept it brief. Hugged and kissed him and now you watched as Peli bounced the chipper little boy in her arms.

“We’ll be back soon.” Din murmured. You turned to face your Mandalorian and another wave of sadness and fear slammed into you. Worst case scenarios were swirling in your head and left you breathless. Din reached out and set his hands on your arms. “I gave you my word.”

“I know.” Your voice cracked and you swallowed it down.

Din pulled you closer, resting his hands on your lower back, while he softly set his forehead against yours. The two of you had said a more intimate good-bye this morning before Grogu awoke. Like days before, you had just laid in his arms. The two of you switching from sharing whispered reassurances and tender kisses. You didn’t think Din would want to show any sign of PDA out in the open, but he didn’t seem to care with the way he bunched you into his arms.

“Please be careful.” You pleaded. “Both of you.”

“We will.”

You closed your eyes, letting out a shuddering breath, and just focused on the metal pressing against your forehead and the weight of his leather gloved hands on your back. Your own hands had wrapped around his neck, and the tips of your fingers found the hidden, bare skin of his neck between his helmet and shirt.

“Ni aalar sha yaim ti gar, ner kar’ta.” Din whispered.

You recognized the words, he had mumbled them to you a number of times, but it was a phrase he had never translated for you. You lightly squeezed the back of his neck, “Can I know now? You said you’d tell me one day.”

Din chuckled, “I did, didn’t I?” You opened your eyes and gave him a small nod, making sure to keep your head in contact with his. Din released a breathy sigh and repeated himself, “Ni aalar sha yaim ti gar.” He paused. “I feel at home with you.” At his translation, you took in a sharp breath of surprise. The first time he whispered that to you had been ages ago, on the first night he had to leave for work and you slept in his bed. That long ago, he had known enough to make that claim. “Ner kar’ta.” Your lower lip quivered and you bit down on it to keep from tearing up. Din finished his translation in a soft voice, and you could hear the smile he wore. “My heart.”

Tears filled your eyes and you let out a laugh. You pulled yourself tighter to him so you could bury your face in the crook of his neck and hug him tightly. Din didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you in a grip that could bruise your rib cage. You didn't care. If you could somehow be closer to him you’d do it.

“I’m going to miss you so much, Din.” You kept your words as quiet as possible, whispering his name, and Din squeezed you again. 

He shifted and you forced yourself to untangle yourself from him. Din settled a hand on the side of your face, thumb swiping away a tear that had managed to slip out. He gave you a firm nod. “I’ll call you, every chance I get, but if you need anything⏤ if anything happens⏤”

“I’ll call you.” You nodded in agreement. “Don’t worry about me. Just keep Grogu and yourself safe, alright?”

“Of course.” Din softly tapped his forehead against yours once more before taking a large step back. You didn’t blame him. If he stayed within your reach any longer you didn’t think you’d ever let him go. Din would be fine. Grogu would be fine. They’d be back before you even knew it. 

At least, that’s what you repeatedly told yourself.

Din knew leaving you behind was going to be tough, but seeing you yards away standing next to Nima as you waved was devastating. He’d have to leave quickly or he’d end up changing his mind. Peli came up beside the N-1 and handed Grogu over.

“You two be safe out there!” She commanded. “And bring back this ship in one piece or I swear⏤”

“We will, Peli.” Din settled Grogu on his lap. “Keep an eye on her for me?”

Peli gave him a nod. “You know we all will. Just get your kriffing ass back soon. We’re all gonna miss little bright eyes here so much.”

Din chuckled as the mechanic backpedaled away. This was almost just like old times, but it felt so different. Grogu shifted on his lap, as if looking for something, and then he pointed out of the ship, “Ma, sit where?” Din stiffened. He had wondered why the kid handled this situation so well and cheery, and now it made sense why. Grogu just assumed you’d be with them⏤ unable to fathom anything different. Grogu, getting more riled up, began to pout. “Ma, sit where??”

Panicked, Din closed the cockpit’s glass and began lift off before Grogu could start his full meltdown.

Maker, this was going to be the longest trip of his life.

a/n: i know y'all are probs dying for the eventual smut i promised, and i swear it is coming. in my defense, i did warn you this was going to be a painfully long slow burn. it's my go-to move. more so though, the intimacy i really REALLY wanted to explore in this story is emotional intimacy b/c I feel like (my own personal headcanon) is that Din Djarin has been with people in the past, but he'd never been emotionally intimate with someone like the reader in this story. so i promise that smut is coming, but this is the kind of stuff i really love writing.

taglist:

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @fawn-kitten @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @jamesbuckybarnes @yorkeylover @teawrites01 @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @uwu-i-purple-you @modiddys-blog @harriedandharassed @stagerightlauren @mini-bees @xxinvisblexx @adoringanakin @sagegreensensei @spidey-3 @sydney-1209 @thepascalofus @hrtsforpascal @banana-lol @daybleedsintonightfall11 @lil-dragon-draws @guccistardust @ideajpeg @leithatnight @elfamosotoga @damnzelsoul @the-anchored-sailor-girl @morks-watermelon @katelynmarieyt @taylorann2013 @chonkercatto @dheet

[soulc-hilde]

Game Shakers / Ch. 03

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

Pairing: Eminem x OFC!

Warning(s): Cursing, Drug Abuse, Racial Discrimination, Sexual Assault, more may be on the way as the story progresses

Summary: 2000s is quite the highlight between the fashion and rise of pop culture. Seemingly the new faces of shock value, rapper Marshall Mathers and rockstar King Woods finds a common ground amongst the unnecessary bullshit.

2019

“When I say that Marshall is a charmin’ son’f a bitch, I fucking mean it,” King laughs, shaking her head.

“Why is that?”

“So, after the VMAs, there was an after party, right?” She rhetorically asks. “I hate those damn things with my soul, but we had to stick it out until we were allowed to go home.”

A huge smile begins to grow across her face, “Matteo had made a deal with me that day and it was, if I could stay there for like… half an hour, I could leave early and Marshall walks into the party…”

1999

Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, N*SYNC, and whoever the fuck else crowded surrounded the venue on top of the heaping bodies of their plus ones and management teams, maybe even sneaky fan and paparazzi here and there.

Sitting in a section on the 2nd, per King’s request, the sixtet drank and made jokes about… well, they made not so nice jokes. They people watched from the balcony, amused at how such televised royalties could act so trashy under the influence. It was so stupid. This entire shit-tick was stupid.

Nursing her beer, she added the occasional hums into the conversation as her friends actively talked. “Fuck, work,” Matteo smiled, “we can talk about it later. Iris, Tink, how’s your lovers?”

The two laughed, shaking their heads at the mocking sounds of kissing. Tink spoke first, “Carson’s doing fine. I’m sure he lost his mind when we won our awards and performed. He’s like our #1 fan, he just needs the fucking styrofoam finger.”

They laughed, picturing the 6’7” sized man jumping with that damn finger on his hand - that is, if there was one big enough for his hands. Irish then chimed in, “Terrance is good, too. We’ve been hustling about, getting our shit in order for the wedding.”

“Speaking of which,” Maliyah trailed, “did you guys speak on making your relationship public or keeping it private?” Iris nodded, “we want to go public, but we’re thinking about doing it after the wedding.”

Everyone nodded before continuing. King glanced over the balcony to meet a pair of cerulean eyes staring up at her. Paired with such beautiful features was bleach blond hair and slightly chapped lips that sat in a natural pout. A small smile stretched across her face and before she could stop herself, she waved him up.

With a small smile of his own, he sent a nod her way and made his way to the stairs with Dre and Proof following behind. He weaved around the crowd, never leaving her own. Just footsteps away from her table, he nearly started speed walking to sit beside her.

“Uh, hey,” he greeted softly, chubby cheeks pulled back to reveal a small smile and hidden dimple.

Charmed, King leaned against the booth, smiling. “Howdy,” she laughed, sipping her drink. "How'd you like your first award show?" He shrugs, eyes bouncing around the venue to avoid her dark ones.

"It's a'ight," he answered, "it's crowded and the whole carpet thing is stupid as hell." King snorted, "you ain't say nothin' but a word. At our first event, journalists were calling me a bitch all because I couldn't be bothered to play stupid."

The two shared a laugh. Marshall fumbled with a loose thread on his button up, debating on his next move when he suddenly blurted: "Just like how that reporter tried to get you slandering my name, huh?"

Instantly, the two perk up, waiting for the other to make their move. King made her's first, setting her drink down with a sigh. "I'm guessing she then snitched away? If there's one thing not alot are warned when signing their life away, these industry folks are snakes."

"From your colleagues in the business down to the reporters," she continued, shaking her head, "you never know who's willing to switch up at the drop of dime."

He added on, "but you and the others didn't. Y'all could've written me off as every name in the headlines and walked off, stirring shit just to stir shit, but you didn't. Why?"

King bit her lip, memories of her own encounters with the phonies of Hollywood came flooding in. "I've had my fair share of sellouts and backstabbers. I mean, look at the genre I mainly partake in... it's a field of white men projecting their lies and deceit onto us because we're women who aren't afraid to strum a guitar."

"I 'ppreciate it," he hummed, "truly. Speaking of you strummin' a guitar, how'd you even get into all of this anyways? Not to sound like those who wish on my downfall, but wouldn't rock be considered a 'white genre'?" His fingers quoted around the ridiculous phrase.

King smirked, "not really. the genre was created off of blues and jazz, much like country. Hearing us on the radio was far better than Chuck Berry or Little Richard on stage all because they were black and then Elvis came along. Now, flash forward to right now."

Marshall nodded, smirking, "don't tell me you're a country girl. I could handle the whole rock look, you look fine as hell, but country? Like, yeehaw? Oh, nah." King fell into a guffaw, her head falling back against the booth as he watched with satisfaction.

"You're goofy as hell, man," she wiped her eyes. "First off, your yeehaw was off. Secondly, so what if I'm a country girl? Don't tell me that a little accen' can easily push ye' away."

He bit his lip, eyeing her down with a charming side grin. "Mhm," he nodded, "never mind." She raised an eyebrow, "wha'chu mean? I already got'chu thinkin', huh?" She laughed, "regardless, I'm not a country girl, I was raised more in the city than the countryside unlike my parents."

"What'a'bout you? I know, fo'so you're a city boy," she giggled. Marshall playfully smacked his lips, "shut up. I'm from, uh, Detroit. I lived in the trailer park, mostly." King nods, listening closely.

He shrugged, "I mean, I have family in the south. They're from Missouri, I've lived back and forth, but spent most of my time in Detroit." She raised an eyebrow, leaning back, "Missouri roots? I've never been with a Missouri boy before."

"Oh?" Marshall playfully leaned back, his hand laying flat on his heart. "So, I'm takin' you want'a piece of me?" King snickered, bitting the inside of her cheek as a desperate measure to hide her smile. "Never said that. You're just new to me."

He raised an eyebrow now, "oh, so white boys being nice to you is new? Tell me more." King silently side-eyes the younger man, cheesing. Breaking their staredown, Matteo nodded his head at King with a soft smile. "30 minutes is up, King, you can head for the hotel, if you want to."

She nodded, sending him a silent thanks. "What does that mean?" Marshall asked. "Is that an escape plan or somethin'?" She laughed, "yeah. Somethin' like that. Matteo and I usually agree that I stick around this bullshit for 30 minutes and then I can head home."

"You're really not a fan of these things, are you?" He acknowledged her truth. She shaked her head, "if I could hate people, I would. If you want, we can hang out somewhere else. I don't have to go back to the hotel."

Marshall sent a small smile her way, "I'm not gonna bother you or anything like that?" King smiled back, "you couldn't, even if you tried." He nodded, "lead the way, then. I'm not picky." The two leave, sending quick waves while ignoring the joking catcalls.

He couldn't believe it, women was a sore topic for him as he tended to lay all the trauma from his mother and the inherited toxicity of Kim onto every other woman in the world, but King gifted him a different perspective. There was an obvious edge to her, it was like some puzzled code, but she didn't allow it to live life through her.

2019

"I don't publicly speak on much when it comes to King and I, and for a reason," Marshall sighs, speaking with every thought. "But, that night was probably the best night of my life back then."

"Since your overdose, you've stated before that there's a number of things from the past you just can't remember. Would say that it's the same for all of your memories with King?"

Marshall nods, "every moment I had with her in the start, I remember. From our good moments to our bad ones, I can think of them and smile. That may be because I always associated her with happiness and relief, or uh, a sense of comfort. I've never had that as a child and I never felt that with Kim."

"Would you say that night, is the night that you fell in love with her?'

"Surprisingly," he pauses, "no. No, that wasn't the night that I fell in love with her."

Taglist: @slytherinroyalty16

Series Masterlist

[catboydogma]

give the world away/wake up lonely

codywan week 2024 sol master list (solsterlist)

codywan week 2024 day 3 prompts, sol edition: soulmate au, after the war

notes: this is riffing off the quinlan/fox soulmates au i did a while back. if you haven't read that one, you don't have to; the gist of it is that soulmates can't lie to each other. for our resident guys who love lying above any other favored pastime or hobby, this presents a Number of Problems. canon timelines? there is no canon timeline here. tcw is my sandbox and baby i have started cultivating a bed of beautiful plants native to arid regions. title from crowd surf off a cliff by emily haines & the soft skeleton.

wc: 2,206

cross-posted to ao3

This was, admittedly, a somewhat inauspicious first meeting. Obi-Wan had been shipped back to Coruscant post-capture by Ventress for surgery and a recovery time that was cut much too short by politics, of all things. Entirely miffed by this shitshow, Obi-Wan had made his complaints clear to the Council. And Bail. And Padmé. And the beleaguered young Healer they’d had attending him. Yes, he might often leave medical before his sentence was up, but that was on his terms. To have his affairs arranged by some perfect stranger instead, in the name of the war effort? Oh, the utter fucking gall of these people.

Alpha-17 was recovering on Kamino, at least. Obi-Wan had gotten away light, relatively speaking. He’d said as much to Vokara Che, and she’d made the most fascinating expression at him.

In his absence, the 212th had been headed by some interim Admiral of the Navy and the new Commander. They were already engaged clear across the Rim, and so Obi-Wan was shipped back out in another transport with a contingent of transfers rotating out from the Coruscant Guard. By the time they dropped out of hyperspace at the back end of the venator, the battle was over and cleanup had commenced.

Obi-Wan was sore, he wanted a proper shower with the desperation of an alcoholic approaching the three-month mark, and to top it all off, his trick knee was acting up again from all the time spent sitting around in the transport. Obi-Wan was not the sort to take advantage of his position either as a High General or a Jedi Master, but really, couldn’t they have given him a transport bigger than a bloody Pathfinder?

Bag slung over one shoulder, Obi-Wan located his—allegedly temporary—cane and tried his best not to limp too visibly. The hangar of the venator was busy with white- and gold-painted troopers, only a few in dress greys cutting back and forth through the bustle. Whoever was running this operation, they were doing it well; even with the distraction Obi-Wan and his entourage presented, few troopers were distracted from their own tasks.

“At ease,” Obi-Wan said, after he’d saluted the squad of troopers waiting to greet him. The Command Corps, with only a handful of familiar signatures. The casualty rate directly after Obi-Wan and Alpha-17’s capture had… suffered. “I am Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. Commander Fox sends his regards.” He’d said something quite a bit more rude, but Obi-Wan wasn’t about to repeat that to a perfect stranger, brothers they may be.

“Clone Marshal Commander 2224,” his Commander replied. Alpha-17 referred to this one as Cody in their little catch-up holocall before Obi-Wan had been deployed again. He’d followed it up with “that little shit” and other things at once less complimentary and more affectionate. Obi-Wan, after taking a few days to parse through the backhanded compliments and veiled praise that Alpha-17 liked to communicate in, had taken this to mean that his new Commander was highly skilled, exceedingly competent, and smarter than all the Navy personnel aux staff. Combined. That, and he had a sense of humor imparted to him directly by Alpha-17.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Obi-Wan said, shaking the Commander’s hand in a firm grip. Professional. Brief. He opened his mouth again to say something about how he looked forward to working with the 212th and a great many more successful engagements, and the words stopped up his throat. Obi-Wan discreetly cleared his throat and—

“Oh, no,” Obi-Wan said instead, an entirely honest display of dismay breaking out. No, no, no, no, this could not be happening.

The Commander’s hand tightened on his. “Is there a problem, sir?”

“What’s your name, if I may, Commander?” Obi-Wan asked, belatedly releasing his hand.

A static fuzz split the air as the Commander stuttered on—something. His serial, Obi-Wan suspected. Which… would have been a lie, if the Commander did not truly consider his serial to be his name.

“Heck,” the Commander said. He pulled his helmet off and flipped it over to tuck under an arm in one smooth motion, mouth slightly agape as he stared at Obi-Wan.

He was a handsome man, his Commander. Very handsome. In the back of his head, Obi-Wan thought he might be hearing howling laughter that sounded a bit too much like Alpha-17.

“Quite,” Obi-Wan said. “Ah… I suppose we’re due for a walk-around. But, after, perhaps, if you might… show me to my quarters, and we can have a, ah… more informal debriefing?” Force, but he hadn’t stuttered like this since Qui-Gon had tried to guilt him into taking care of one of his notoriously finicky bonsais.

His Commander was silent for a moment. Testing the bounds of their new… constraints, Obi-Wan suspected. Finally, he said: “I’d like that.”

…two years later, after the war:

“That Sith is lucky he’s already dead,” Cody snarled up at the ceiling.

Obi-Wan patted Cody’s hand and tried to suppress the feeling that he was about to be an accessory to a hideously violent crime. “How’s your nausea, then? Manageable?”

Cody snarled something incoherent. Perhaps he’d tried for a “fine” or even a bold “utterly negligible.” Obi-Wan was not the most empathic Jedi, instead sitting—like many things in his life—at a comfortably average level of Force empathy. Yet even he could feel the waves of sick vertigo and queasiness washing over Cody every few minutes. After a moment of muttering and another moment of grimly, doggedly swallowing as another wave of nausea broke over him, Cody gave Obi-Wan a baleful, sweaty glare. “Stop asking me questions.”

“My brave Commander,” Obi-Wan said, digging his thumbs into the base of Cody’s thumb and the joint of his wrist.

The medics had concocted two different ways to disable the inhibitor chips that Lieutenant Fives had uncovered—surgery or injection. The series of vaccines was a clever combination of medical nanotechnology originally developed to fight against deep-rooted viral infections and a biotechnological approach to ensure that the body’s systems were able to quickly and safely break down the chip from the inside, piggybacking off local immune response.

Their results could not be denied. Both approaches were as safe as they could be, with an astonishingly low mortality or mishap rate. The immune response, however, was… somewhat vicious. Obi-Wan had been able to glean that Cody was getting off relatively light; he’d just the muscle aches and nausea, but no fever, and he had yet to actually vomit anything up. Whether that was due to his body having a good response, or Cody’s own iron self-discipline… well, who was really to say.

“Can’t imagine the company’s all that right now,” Cody muttered. His jaw worked furiously and he leaned his head back against the pillows of his medical cot.

Obi-Wan hummed and worked his way up Cody’s forearm, measuring his pulse with two fingers pressed into the soft inside of Cody’s elbow. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be, right now. Until you tell me to fuck off, I shall continue to remain right here.”

“Fuck—nhgghk—fuck… you,” Cody hissed.

Ah, Obi-Wan’s love was such a romantic. He only felt a little bad about trapping Cody in a proverbial corner, but if Cody truly wanted him to leave, then he could say so. Until then… well. It wasn’t like Cody could lie to him. Obi-Wan tried not to look quite so smug, but with Cody’s hand spasming on his arm like he was imagining strangling Obi-Wan, perhaps he wasn’t as successful as he’d thought.

“Only twelve more hours,” Obi-Wan said, soothing. He smoothed a hand up Cody’s bicep and started in on his shoulders, finding knots of tension and digging in deep to ease them out. With the persistent muscle aches, these knots would likely be back in a matter of hours, if that. But if Obi-Wan could do something to help Cody, as small as it could be, he was going to do it.

“You should go,” Cody rasped, eyes closed and brow furrowed. His shoulder spasmed under Obi-Wan’s hand, sweat-slick skin and hard muscle shifting painfully.

Hm. Well. That hadn’t been what Obi-Wan had planned. He pressed the back of his hand to Cody’s forehead. No fever; the sweats and shakes, a little warm from lying in bed, but nothing concerning. Fighting to keep his voice neutral, Obi-Wan asked, “And do you want me to go?”

Cody gritted his teeth, lips peeling back in a snarl. He started and stopped in the middle of half a dozen words. “It doesn’t matter what I want. You should leave.”

Obi-Wan’s heart seized in his chest, something toothier than grief coming to settle behind his breastbone. Sometimes the inability to lie to one’s soulmate was a blessing, if a complicated one. Sometimes… sometimes it meant that when Cody said such a thing, Obi-Wan knew to his bones that Cody truly believed it. “Yes, it matters very much what you want,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even but not gentle. Cody so hated to be “coddled,” in his words. Obi-Wan, who could tease out the truth, knew that Cody didn’t necessarily want to be treated gently or handled with care—he simply wanted to be treated like he was precious. Like he meant something to someone.

“And,” Obi-Wan continued, when it seemed like no more was forthcoming from Cody and he was no longer fighting to keep the wobble out of his own voice, “unless and until you say ‘Obi-Wan, my precious love, papple of my eye and light of my galaxy, I want you to leave me alone,’ I shall be remaining by your side.”

Cody’s face screwed up. It looked terrifyingly like he might cry. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what he would do if Cody started crying, other than start sobbing alongside him.

“What if the chip activates?” Cody finally bit out, sounding like the words had been carved out of him. “I read the brief on Fray’s procedure. And Longshot’s. And—and I could. I might—you don’t—want to see me. Like this. I—” Cody heaved for breath, eyes gone glassy and the sinews of his throat standing in high relief with tension. “—I can’t. If something happens, I can’t. If the chip activates and I—lose myself—it’s.” Cody cursed, as vile as anything Obi-Wan had ever heard him use.

Obi-Wan firmly laced his fingers between Cody’s and checked his vambrace with his free hand. It must be terrifying to know that you might kill those you held most dear. But the chips didn’t activate with a specific order—Fray’s had activated on Order 37: mass arrest and execute the local civilian population to capture a wanted individual. The poor trooper had almost killed a pair of orderlies with his own bootlaces. Longshot’s had… well. They were yet lucky to still have the trooper with them, but he would have to be carefully monitored in the next few weeks to make sure he didn’t suffer clotting in the vessels of his neck or a stroke. But with a full one hundred and fifty orders, the chance that Cody’s would activate in the first place was slim, let alone land on the one that would have him trying to kill Obi-Wan.

And yet… this wasn’t a scenario where likelihoods and statistics would help. Obi-Wan squeezed Cody’s hand, then showed him the screen embedded into his vambrace. A med droid had sent him an update on the progress of Cody’s procedure, showing a near-incomprehensible feed of the nanites as they disabled what remained of Cody’s chip.

“You’re well past the threshold for the chip activating successfully,” Obi-Wan told him. “And I always want to see you, Cody. I especially want to be here while you’re fighting through this. You won’t lose yourself. You’re already past the worst of it. I know you can hang on for a little while longer, and there’s no part of you that I would turn away from.” He raised Cody’s hand to kiss the back of it, lips pressed carefully to Cody’s scarred and calloused knuckles. “There is no part of you that could make me turn away.” He would repeat it as many times as Cody would let him.

“I don’t want to wake up someone different,” Cody rasped. But he didn’t pull away from Obi-Wan, and he let Obi-Wan smooth a hand over his curls and press a kiss to the space between his brows.

“I’ll keep an eye on the chip,” Obi-Wan promised. With a rueful smile, chest still aching, he echoed Cody’s own oft-repeated line back at him: “When have I ever let you down?”

“Never,” Cody murmured, face tightening as one—or perhaps several—of his muscles spasmed and locked up. He looked exhausted, riding the line between unconsciousness and apprehension.

“Just so. You’ll be alright,” Obi-Wan promised. “And I’ll be here.”

With that, Cody finally let himself slip into sleep, mind partially quieting. The fear was still there, as well as a biting edge of self-recrimination and dread-heavy resignation. Obi-Wan kept a bit of his awareness on the chip through the Force, monitoring it carefully. They would get through this safe and whole, and Obi-Wan would not suffer any other option.

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Nine

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: It’s here! Just figured I’d get it out quick, so I spent ages just writing and then editing! Hope it’s up to par? It’s a long one, again..

Might edit this again when I'm not running on three hours sleep:) x

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy

Masterlist

It wasn’t too long after my call with Danny ended that I stepped back through the garden door and into the kitchen, only to find Marshall already there, elbows pressed against the counter as he typed away on his phone. He looked up at the creak of the door and so I smiled in hello, tucking my own phone into my back pocket as I padded on closer, making sure to lock up behind me.

“Danny said his goodbyes and apologised again for his army mates.” I found myself saying with a slight chuckle and watched as Em turned off his phone to set it to the side, pushing up and away from the countertop.

“Was nice to meet him. You speak about him a lot.” Marshall replied with a small smile, the getsure genuine even under the bright lights the kitchen offered. “Kid’s in bed already,” He added with a slight jilt of his chin before his head turned ever so towards the hallway, “You up for another night of tv?”

Grinning, honestly unable to help the action, I widened my eyes and feigned fawning over the very idea, “God, you know how to entertain a woman. Who needs alcohol and a club full of sweaty people when you’ve got Rick Grimes and walkers waiting for you?”

Marshall rolled his eyes in retort, scoffing lightly in amusement, but I did note the uneasy look that crossed his face, even if it only lasted a split second. “Never claimed to be babysittin’ you whilst you’re here. You wanna go out, go ahead.”

It was my turn to gift him an eye roll then, the daft idiot. “And miss the chance of another popcorn fight breaking out? Yeah, I think not.” I said as I waltzed past him, heading straight for the living room we’d invaded the night previous.

I was still searching for the remote when he finally emerged in the doorway behind me, pausing there briefly. It was only once I’d finally caught sight of the stupid thing that he chose to speak up again, “I was bein’ serious, before. You don’t have to stay cooped up here with us.”

The tele had since been turned on, the screen buzzing to life before its loading page flashed up to greet us. My brow furrowed in my stance by the edge of the settee and it stayed even as I turned to spare him a glance from over my shoulder. He looked a little ominous standing there in the shadow of the doorway, the tv being the only thing to shed a small amount of warmth and light into the dark room. 

“Shut up, I was just messing.” I waved off whilst flashing him a wry smile, before I turned back to the tv screen so that I could scroll my way back to the series we’d been watching the night before.

But Marshall didn’t appear to be anymore at peace after hearing the sentiment, his shoulders were tense and his forehead was suddenly littered with slight lines when he decided to bypass me and drop down onto the sofa.

I joined him a couple seconds later, throwing him a wary glance as I clicked on the third episode we’d somehow managed to get to and lowered myself down onto the cushions less than arm's length away.

The show started and for the first ten minutes we sat in a mutual silence, though I couldn’t help but feel as though I’d made a real big misstep with my earlier joke. It was just as the scene shifted again, the library moulding into the prison’s outer fields, that Marshall shifted, using the pillow between us as an excuse to shuffle into a better position, one which left him sitting a whole lot closer than he’d previously been.

My legs had come up to hide beneath me not long after I’d first sat down, so with his new position it just meant that my knees were now almost grazing his own. My eyes flickered between the barely there touch and the tv screen. 

Marshall slumped. Knee pressing further into my own.

I allowed it, wondering if it was purposeful. 

“Sorry.” He murmured after a static moment passed and he didn’t make the effort to move away either. I wondered if that was really what he was apologising for. 

Deciding not to comment on it, I simply shifted so that my head could rest against the back cushion of the couch, leaving my shoulder and side to fall in line with his torso. I felt, more than heard, him look over at me, before his focus was back on the tv screen once more. 

We sat that way for the remainder of that episode, my eyes growing heavier the further in we got. I put it down to the residual lapse in jetlag, but Marshall’s presence and his unusual knack for always being able to radiate body heat like a sodding furnace might have had something to do with it too.

I jerked slightly when I eventually felt my head fall forward, startling myself a tad, and pulled back from the way I’d been just about ready to nod right off. My temple seemed to have caught the curve of Em’s shoulder though on the way down and so I shuffled back a tad to flash him a sleepy smile full of silent apology, to which he merely shook his own head and shifted so that he could offer up his shoulder without words said or questions asked.

My throat grew a little tight at the gesture, never really having had that sort of companionship before, even in the people closest to me, and slowly allowed my chin to droop, almost cautiously as if I was preparing for him to laugh me off. But he didn’t. Simply waited me out, like a person would a stray dog when trying to lure them near.

I must’ve fallen asleep there after a while, which surprised me enough to have me blinking blearily awake again once I’d realised, because the next thing I knew the sofa had shifted and the soft light from the tele had since paused in its stuttering of scenes. 

Sniffing, I attempted to bury myself further into the cushions beneath me, missing the warmth that I’d found there just moments before, but it was then that I heard a light huff of laughter, one which had me rubbing at my eyes only to cast a glance towards it.

Marshall was there, standing over me, one hand on my knee whilst he tried to shake me awake as gently as he could. My gaze caught on the small smile he wore, the same one which appeared to grow when I frowned up at him and then around the room, trying to get a sense for what had happened and where I’d fallen asleep.

A tap to my knee had me looking back at him.

“Missed two episodes.” Marshall mentioned in a low murmur, smirking at the way I wrinkled my nose in turn, “Don’t think I’m rewatchin’ them jus’ ‘cause your ass decided to fall asleep.”

I hummed, still attempting to wrap my head around the fact that I’d just been asleep and was now somewhat awake, whilst simultaneously trying to stay alert enough not to fall back into that blissful state. “Sorry.” I whispered tiredly, barely even aware of the word as it slipped past my lips.

Marshall’s mouth quirked upwards before his head was shaking again, “You’re good, was just kidding.”

I smiled at the thought of him watching the episodes for a third time, just for me, and then giggled a little.

His hand encased my knee again but squeezed gently this time, it was when I looked over at him that I realised I’d let my eyes slip closed again. “Come on, gotta get movin’.”

I dreaded the very thought of moving but knew even in my dreary state that I couldn’t stay curled up on the sofa, so I inhaled quietly and moved to nod my head, taking the hand that wasn’t holding my leg and allowing it to hoist me up.

Marshall was smooth and considerate in the way he helped guide me up, letting me lean into his side as he turned off the tv, leaving only the nearby lamp to light our way out of the living room and into the hallway. I stumbled slightly on the small step that separated the two adjacent rooms but Marshall was there again, arm wrapped tightly around my middle whilst his other hand gripped my own, to keep me steady. 

I blinked a little more at the almost fall, allowing myself to pause and squeeze my eyes shut tight enough that when I opened them again the world was a little less blurred at the edges. “I’m knackered.” I ended up saying, voice carrying in a dull whisper.

Em responded with a light snort, the hand at my hip squeezing a fraction as we started up the staircase. “This gone be a usual thing with you, me carryin’ you to bed?” He wondered, though even in my sleepy state I could tell that the ask was more humorous than anything slightly related to irritation. 

Still, the question reminded me of the night before when he’d also helped aid me up the stairs. The image of his smirking face flashed to the forefront of my mind at the prompt, the way he had waited for me to step beyond my bedroom door before he’d finally allowed himself to walk away. Tomorrow, he’d said whilst my fingers had toyed with the door’s handle.

“No.” I murmured then to his question, sniffing as I slumped further in his hold, wondering over the steps and why he had so many of them. “Normally I’m a night owl. Don’t sleep much.” I added in explanation, the words accompanied by another sleepy smile that had him gazing down at me. 

Marshall hummed but was quiet as we moved up onto the landing, it was only when we reached my door that he shifted ever so to get it open, the handle clunking back up again in his haste to keep me upright against his side. I murmured another quiet apology.

“Stop sayin’ sorry, dummy.”

I snorted at the term, eyes slipping closed again, “Is that meant to be endearing?”

His tut echoed throughout the bedroom and it was then that I realised I was perched on the end of the king size bed. I blinked, but instead of peering around the rest of the room, my eyes caught on him and the way he was now pulling back the sheets, reshuffling the many pillows on the other end. 

My lips rolled against one another before I thought to say something, “Too many.”

Marshall peered back at me from where he was stood leaning over the bed, one knee pressed into the mattress. I wondered briefly if he knew how good he looked then, before he spoke again, brow raised. “What?”

“Pillows.” I muttered, hand flapping lazily over to the mountain.

For a long second he just stayed there, eyes turning towards the top of the bed before they met mine once more. I rubbed at my face to hide an oncoming yawn. He waited another second before pillows started to fly.

Startled by the soft thuds they made when they hit the floor, I watched on as he windled the stack down to a simple two, fluffing them before his head was turning towards me once more. “Good?”

His voice was ever so soft, all kind and gentle like. It made the words I felt like saying get stuck in my throat and a light flush to paint my cheeks, I nodded. 

It was then that he tilted his head in a gesture for me to move, smiling to himself as I rolled over the top of the duvet to settle on the sheeted mattress beneath. I flashed him another tired grin after settling in, wriggling beneath the sheets to get comfy and fight away the cold that had crawled in beside me.

My face seemed to crease after that and I tugged at the duvet to get the bed frame to release its bottom end. Marshall caught on quick enough and pulled it free for me whilst I shuffled out of the trousers I’d yet to take off. He blinked at the sight of the fabric which appeared a moment later, before he snorted to himself and offered to take them, stepping away to fold them up and place them down on the dresser nearby.

“All good?” He asked once again. I glanced back at him from under the cocoon I’d created and took in the softness of his smile, the way his hands were now folded politely behind his back, and how he was simply just waiting for me to answer him, as though he had all the time in the world and wasn’t fighting off sleep himself. 

I nodded, my chin hidden beneath the covers but my returning smile was able to be seen in the slight curve of my cheeks. “Good.” I whispered. Then, feeling a little silly, I added, “Sorry for–”

He waved the end of my sentence off, stepping closer to the bed as he reached out, ready to turn off the bedside lamp. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Makes me feel useful.” Smirking, his fingers grasped the lamp’s cord but he didn’t move to pull it just yet.

“Still,” I pushed, eyes growing heavier once more now that I was surrounded by the weighted quilt that seemed to be hellbent on capturing all the heat that it could, “Thank you, I don’t usually..”

Marshall’s smirk dimmed ever so into something more thoughtful, “Means a lot that you trust me. Don’t stress about where you fall asleep.”

Trust. Wasn’t that a funny fucking thing.

The lamp was off and he was walking away before I could utter a reply to that, and it was only when the door creaked open a tad bit further to let him have his escape that I let the weight of his words sink in. 

It was a maddening thought to realise that I did trust him. Wholeheartedly. And that was probably the strangest thing.

–

I could not for the life of me have told you where I was, let alone what the time it could have possibly been, when I roused from my coma-like state. 

The first thing I noted was that the curtains had all been closed and the jumper I’d worn last night had since been tossed to the floor alongside a plethora of pillows. It was slow going, pulling myself up and into a sitting position, letting the duvet pool around my hips when I attempted to get my brain to function properly again. 

It was another minute or two before I found the strength to roll over and make a grab for my phone, only to find that it had since been plugged into the outlet by the bedside table to charge. My brow pinched at the sight, not recalling having put it on charge, but still I reached out to grab it. 

The light I was met with had me wincing before I managed to adjust, eyes widening slightly at the time I was shown. Almost eleven. Wow, it was honestly somewhat of an achievement for me, seeing as the bouts of insomnia I often wavered through had me falling asleep far too late and waking far too early. I figured all the flying and the hectic schedule I’d had before landing in Detroit had finally caught up to me.

My mind short circuited at the reminder. Detroit. Marshall.

“Shit.” I hissed, dropping the phone down onto the mattress as I willed myself to get out of bed. 

I tried to remember what had transpired after talking to Danny, how I’d let myself be lulled by the tv and the comfort of the man sat beside me. 

Dragging a hand over my face, I felt a bout of embarrassment flutter through me, feeling oddly caught out at having let someone see me so exposed. My legs dangled over the edge of the bed for a long moment before I finally found the energy to move, pulling my body over towards the bathroom and into the shower before I could regret the decision. Any of them, including both the night befores and the choice to not linger any longer in my pit. 

The shower worked wonders for waking me up that little bit more, pushing the last remnants of sleep from my mind as I stood under its spray. It was then that I found myself feeling thankful again for Marshall and all his odd eccentricities, for him being the overanalyzing type and having had the guest bath stocked with not just the necessities most would need, but the ones he figured I’d like, seeing as the theme was a mix of vanilla and coconut– something I’d mentioned after I’d gotten a delivery of candles a couple weeks prior.

I tried to push the thoughts of how endearing that whole mess was, the fact that he’d gone and remembered, as I stepped out and made quick work of getting ready for the day, forgoing drying my hair so that I could slip into the baggiest jeans I owned and a soft tee that often slipped over the curve of my shoulder. 

The house was oddly quiet when I slipped past the bedroom door and down the steps, once again forcing thoughts of last night out of my head, of his grip, the soft smiles we shared, the–

I took a much needed breath when I reached the bottom, swivelling on my heel to cast a glance about. I knew that Rosie must have already been at school even without me not spotting her bag or shoes by the door, but I was still left with the feeling of longing I often experienced whenever I woke up to find that Lottie had since left. 

Pushing on though, I noted that the house didn’t have that familiar chill I was used to enduring back home. The English weather was a mess of emotions even on summer days where the sun shone brightly, so it was nice not to be shivering my way into the kitchen and over to the kettle. 

It was after doing exactly that though, that I spotted a small post-it stuck to the fridge door.

(Dropped off Z, in the studio if you need me. Eat!  - Em)

Snorting softly at it, I tore the note down and let the corner press into the pad of my forefinger for a second or two. It was nice, having someone care enough to not want me to worry. Even the whole Eat! had me grinning, so used to running on fumes and pure anxiety that I often forgot. It was strange to note that it was a habit he’d picked up on, or perhaps I was just thinking too much into it. Maybe it was just him being personable.

Still, I folded the post-it up and slid it into the back of my phone case all the same. Not stopping to think twice about the why as I looked up at the kettle’s violent whistle.

I moved through my usual morning motions with an ease that shouldn’t have felt effortless in a kitchen that was not mine, but I did, walking to sit at the island not long after I’d procured myself a cup of tea and some toast. 

I took to scrolling through my phone, checking Twitter for updates on friends back home and then moving over to Netflix to see if there were any new series that had dropped and appeared worth watching. 

It was during that time that my phone soon rang. With one glance at the name I was wearing a mad grin and swiping to answer, “Well, isn’t this a surprise!”

A short scoff could be heard from the other side of the line before a familiar lilt trailed through, “And here I thought I was going to be met with love and a plethora of questions about my wellbeing. But no, only your sincerest sarcasm!” Lottie sighed theatrically, as though she wasn’t defeating the entire purpose behind her whole spiel.

“It’s seemingly a familial trait.” I quipped with a fond roll of my eyes, “But I have missed hearing your voice, texts don’t make up for much.”

“And what about my short videos?” Lottie replied with enough emotion behind her voice that I could already guess that she was raising one brow and pursing her lips. “Did they not suffice enough?”

“You mean the three second clips you keep sending me?” I laughed around a sip of tea, thinking back to the latest one I’d received the very same morning, “I don’t think me seeing your knee and hearing a Rihanna song play in the background is the same thing as knowing you’re alright back there.”

“Is too, and there were others!” Lottie immediately defended before a few other voices trailed through, “How about the one of me in Maths, hey?”

My face flattened at the reminder, “You mean the one of you gettin’ your phone taken away by your teacher?”

“Yes! See, all was fine, even Ms Plait reckoned so.” She quipped, the glee which lined her tone was oh so audible. “Did you not see that lovely smile of hers?”

I almost choked on my next chuckle, not having expected the comment, “Oh yeah, I saw. She still looks the same as the last time I saw her, face like a slapped arse and with one too many missing teeth.” Lottie sniggered and once again those voices from earlier followed, “You on your way home?” I wondered, looking down at the time and noting that she should have already left school by now.

“Yeah, just walking with Shan and Tea.” Her answer was followed by a loud hurrah of hellos from the pair that had me smiling.

“Heya girls, hope you’re all alright!” I greeted, listening to them ramble away for a couple of minutes about this and that, throwing me back to the days where the two girls had first come over to visit Lotts. 

Time got away from me a little after that, leaving me with an almost finished but cold brew and the remnants of my toast that I soon got up to throw and wash away whilst Lottie and her mates said their goodbyes so that they could part ways.

“You’re having a good time then?” I found myself asking once Lotts had finished speaking about her school day, “Nothing I should worry about?”

I could practically feel the roll of her eyes as she huffed, “Yes, Lia. Honest. I’ve been keeping you updated, Mila too, whenever she texts– even Danny called yesterday! Did you meet those knobheads he calls friends? The Irish one’s well fit.”

Pursing my lips to keep from smiling, I shook my head at her antics. “I did and need I remind you, you’re fourteen?”

“I was just stating a fact!” Lottie argued, her voice unable to be drowned out even by the car that then passed, “God, you’d think you didn’t know me at all.” She tacked on, her tone teasing enough that I knew she wasn’t too bothered by the fact that she’d been called out. 

“Know you too well.” I rebuked half-heartedly and then smiled at the response I was met with. 

“Too much like you.”

“A shame that,” I snorted as I took back to sitting at the counter, eyes caught on the length of land that stretched out beyond the back door.

“Slander.” Lottie sniped, “But also the truth.”

We shared a chuckle even as I rolled my eyes, which led me onto the next topic of conversation I’d been wanting to bring up since my phone call with Danny in New York, “How’s things working out at Mum’s then?”

A pause followed that question. One that went on a second too long and had my shoulders tensing. 

“Lotts?”

“Hm? Sorry, was just– crossing the road, you know.” 

“Don’t lie. Tell me what’s going on before I hop on a plane and find out for myself.” I threatened, eyes catching on the island countertop as I pressed the phone closer to my ear, as though by doing so it would somehow allow me to be that little bit closer to her. 

“So dramatic,” Lottie joked but it fell flat, what with my impatience and the lack of humour which lined her tone. She sighed, “Dad got out early.”

My whole world seamlessly fell apart at those four words.

I couldn’t form a coherent thought let alone any real words, so it was only Lottie’s voice calling my name that had me blinking back out of my frozen stance and inhaling sharply. “What?”

She coughed, either to clear her throat or to buy herself a little more time, I didn’t know, but couldn’t bring myself to care. “He– well, he’s on parole. Got out about a week ago. Staying with Mum, sort of.”

“Sort of?” I jumped out of the barstool I’d taken up to begin treacherously pacing. For a brief moment I wondered whether it was possible for me to wear away the pattern in Marshall’s kitchen tiles. “What are you on about, Lottie? He’s serving sixteen years.”

A heavy sigh. “Obviously he got out on good behaviour then, served just over fourteen, din’t he?” 

I swallowed thickly, a motion which flipped my stomach and had me threatening to throw up the toast I’d just eaten. “Good fucking behaviour, him?” I scoffed out a laugh that was entirely mirthless, “And she’s just let him back, has she? I thought she was done with him the second he was inside!”

Lottie didn’t say anything to that, or for a while longer. It took me a minute to notice what with how seething I was. 

I forced myself to take a breath, because this wasn’t about me. Then started to think a bit more rationally.

“Look, I’ll look up flights now, yeah? I can be home by tonight, or tomorrow morning if I’m lucky. I don’t know yet. Just have to contact Mila, then talk with Marsh– Shit.”

Marshall, what was I going to tell Marshall? 

“Elia.”

Blinking, my reeling thoughts were immediately stopped by the sound of my sister’s voice, soft but demanding. She waited and I was left to tug a hand through my still damp hair.

“Listen, please don’t come back.”

What?

“What?” I croaked out, the ground having been ripped out from under me.

“It’s working.” Lottie replied, her voice still soft, trying to be kind. “I mean, I’ve stayed with Shan some nights but I’ve been staying at the house too. And it’s– it’s not bad, El. It’s nice even, to get to know him and things. Like at my own pace and whatnot.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“He’s changed apparently. Mum reckons so anyway, it’s what she told me.” Lottie continued on, filling the silence I’d left her with whilst my entire planet shifted, “Not so angry, or sad. Just tryna find a job and stuff, so he can follow the rules of his probation or something. Not sure. Din’t ask too much about it. He’s staying with Mum but he keeps to himself when he’s not trying to make amends and crap. Make up for lost time.”

Staying with Mum. In my fucking house, the very same one I’d paid for. That fucking scummy shitheaded cun– 

I forced myself to breathe. 

“El, it’s working out. I–” Lottie said, then took a second. When she spoke again, she sounded so small, her voice almost pleading, “He’s my Dad, Elia. I just want the chance to know him.”

My hand fell from my hair to cover my mouth, desperate to keep the sob that wanted to escape from being heard down the line. I swallowed it back, gave a shaky exhale, but eventually nodded. Even if it was just to myself. 

“Okay, Lotts.” I heard myself say, somehow. “Okay, yeah. That’s, it’s fair.”

I was rewarded with a big huff of air, one that told me I’d done the right thing, that she was relieved to hear me say that it was all fine. “Thanks, El! Knew you’d understand.”

I didn’t. I don’t, I wanted to say.

“Yeah, ‘course, Lotts. He’s your,” I swallowed again, the walls of my throat itching, hands shaking ever so slightly, “–Dad. If it’s what you want then, yeah. Who am I to stop you?”

Who am I? 

Violent flashes flooded my mind, words, voices. Then I was back in the kitchen again.

“Just, promise me, Lottie. Promise me that anything happens, you call me. You call Mila. You call Dan. Okay? Anyone. Anyone who can get to me. I’ll be there.” I told her in a low murmur, the desperation I felt seeping through but I didn’t take enough note of it to care. This was too important. “Promise me, Lotts.”

I could hear her smile in her next words, “Promise, El. Always. I love you.”

“Yeah, kiddo. I love you, too.”

…

I don’t know how much time passed after the call dropped, leaving me with nothing but the light spatter of rain that knocked against the house. But soon enough I was startled from where I’d been standing by the window in some sort of trance, staring down at the phone I still held in my hand. 

I looked up so fast it almost hurt, but my alarmed look softened when I noticed it was just Marshall stood there, a slight furrow marring the skin between his brows. “Figured I’d come find you.”

My eyes slipped closed as I jilted my chin in reply, taking a much needed breath before casting another glance out across the garden. My mind was stuck on my conversation I’d had with Lottie, on thoughts of home and plans that would ultimately fall through.

A hand encased my elbow. “Yo, you good?” Marshall was still there, having ducked his head a tad to better look into my glossy eyes, that frown more prominent than it had been just moments before.

I stared back at him and felt my lip wobble, before I took another short breath and put on a smile, hoping it was sort of semi-convincing seeing as I nodded in retort. Must have been a tough fucking wish though because he levelled me with an expression that ultimately called out on all my bullshit. 

“You wanna try that again?”

I casted my eyes downwards and chewed on the inside of my cheek, feeling the way his hand inched up my arm before he eventually wrapped me up in his hold, letting me bury my head in the curve of his shoulder. My eyes squeezed tightly shut and even though I didn’t move to hug him back, I sagged into his hold, which must have told him enough to keep the two of us standing there. 

“Who was on the phone?” He queried after a short while, fingers trailing over the small of my back almost subconsciously, but the gesture was enough to soothe the well in my throat and the chaos I had going on inside my mind.

“Lottie.” I answered, voice meek even to my own ears.

His chest moved with each breath he took, legs spread just far enough apart that his feet encased my own, and he smelt so familiar that it made me wonder just how quickly I’d grown to be comforted by it. Was that even normal?

“You need to head back?” He wondered out loud, the parent in him jumping out at the thought of something having happened with my sister, “You can use the jet, I can get Paul on it now.”

It amused me to no end to understand the lengths he’d go to help not just me, but my family too, warmed me completely in fact, but the offer also left me feeling lost. Because even though I would have left the second Lottie asked, I would have been devastated to leave. 

I shook my head where it rested against his shoulder, pressing my forehead to the joint there before I spoke, “No,” I told him, the syllable wavering, “Just– she asked me to stay.”

“Right.” Marshall said quietly, though it felt like he’d forced the word out, “And you don’t want to?” He questioned, trying to understand.

My head shook once more, “It’s complicated.”

His hold tightened by a fraction and we stayed that way for a long second, then two, before he drew back to get a good look at me. “You wanna talk?”

I couldn’t stand to look into his eyes in that moment, far too fearful that I’d just end up crying then and there, so I sniffed instead and glanced off to the side. “Just complicated, I guess.” I muttered, repeating myself whilst trying so very hard not to think about the anxiety I felt over leaving Lottie there, thousands of miles away from me.

“Well, complicated’s my middle fuckin’ name.” Em replied and I couldn’t help it, the stupidness of it made me laugh and I knuckled at his stomach in retort, dropping my eyes. But he stilled my hands, holding them close so that I would finally look up at him, “Mean it.”

I already knew that though.

I peered down at our hands, the way my fists were now pressed against his chest, his bigger than my own and all but swallowing them whole.

“Lottie’s dad.” Is what I found myself saying, eyes locked on the tribal tattoo that encased his wrist. Em nodded gently, the gesture moving his torso as he shifted beneath my hands. 

The muscle of my cheek was all torn up from where I’d been chewing away in my anxious mess, stressing over it all, and so I tried my best to keep from biting at it once more, not wanting to cut too deep. But even so, the notion typically centred me so I was now at a loss for how to process the plethora of thoughts that kept running through my head like a freight train at full speed. 

Marshall seemed to sense this though, because not a second later were his thumbs running over the ridge of my knuckles. I felt my hands slacken a bit in their fisted hold. 

“Well, you know how I mentioned he was inside? That first day I was here.” I finally continued, moving to peer back up at him again, only to find that he was already watching me, the blue of his eyes a shock to the system. I shook my head slightly and took another deep breath, “He got out, parole apparently. For good behaviour,” I scoffed at the very reminder but pushed on, “He’s staying with my mum and so that ultimately means Lottie too. Seeing as I’m not there.”

Marshall had since stilled in his entirety, I wasn’t even sure if he was breathing with how suddenly motionless he went, but then his chin dipped and his thumbs resumed their gentle caress. “And she said not to go back?” He asked, clarifying. 

I shook my head. “She–” I tried to get the words out but had to pause, if only for a second, to actually form them, “She wants to get to know him. Says he’s alright now, that he’s changed.” My eyes rolled on their own accord at that, not believing it for a second, “And well, who would I be to deny her that, hey? I mean, I know how she felt, never knew my dad, but she has a chance, you know? She’d hate me if I took it from her. Even if I know better.”

I slumped when I was finally able to take another much needed breath, inhaling deep enough to dislodge the heaviness that weighed on my chest but not enough to clear it completely.

Em tugged on my wrists lightly and so I peered back at him, aware of the seriousness he had since taken on. “What’s that mean, know better?” He asked and I had to pretend I didn’t reel back from him, like it hadn’t been the first reaction to the reminder that simultaneously crossed my mind. “Hey,” He tugged again, even gentler than he had before but enough to draw back my gaze, “You don’t gotta tell me shit, but,” He paused, eyes flitting between my own, “I’m here, okay?”

Nodding, incapable of doing much else, I said, “I know.”

He gifted the tiny beginnings of a smile sincere enough to have me pressing my nails into the curve of my palms. “Is she safe? With him there.” He clarified and I could only blink up at him, he waited me out.

“I think so. I–” I stuttered, memories hitting me again. I tried to brush them away, but failed. “He wouldn’t hurt her, I know that.”

Just you then. 

The words went unsaid but the look in his eyes told me all I needed to know. His hold lessened until I was able to let my hands drop to my sides. Marshall cleared his throat but I saw the way his hands fisted as he stepped away, “Was gone ask to work in the studio today, but we can just chill instead. Or you can do your own thing.”

I was quick to shake my head, already onboard with the studio idea. “No, studio sounds good. Keep my mind off shit.” I replied, looking down to check my phone and biting my lower lip when no new notifications from Lottie had come through.

“You sure?” Marshall prodded and when I looked over to him it almost appeared as though he was appraising me under a newfound light, behind the carefully guarded fortress that was his gaze. 

Trying not to frown, I nodded again in assurance. “Yeah, just lemme text her again, and maybe Mila, then I’ll be right there.”

He continued to watch me for a second longer and it was only as I was about to say something about it, that he moved. “I’ma grab some drinks. You have a preference?”

Blowing out a breath, I shrugged lightly, “Water, juice, anything really. I don’t mind.”

Marshall seemed to take that as an incentive to grab a majority of the fridge, loading it all up on the counter beside him before he let the door swing close behind him. I raised a brow after having pulled up Mila’s contact and bit back the obvious laugh that wanted to escape when he mimicked the gesture, “What?”

“You good to carry all that?”

He glanced over to the plethora of bottles he’d procured and then back to me, “Two trips.” He declared as he swiped half of the contents into his arms.

I laughed at the picture he made, wondering how easy it was for him to flip my moods entirely. “We don’t need that many!”

“If I could, I’d flip you off right now.” Was the only reply I was given as he wandered out of the kitchen. 

I let go of a sigh as I moved back to glance down at my phone again.

Messages  To: Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  Did you know?  About Lottie?

It only took a second before those familiar three dots were littering the bottom of my screen. Though in fairness, her phone was basically her fulltime job.

Messages  Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  Everything’s fine. I told her not to worry you.

I couldn’t stop the scowl that overwhelmed my face at her response.

Messages  To: Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  You serious? How was that your decision to make mila??

Messages  Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  I care about the both of you. It wasn’t a split second decision, it was something I talked to Lottie about at length. She was the one who asked me to wait until I told you.  I didn’t want it to interfere with what we had going on. 

The fury which licked through me at her reply made her words feel too ingenuine. 

Messages  To: Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  Still not your fucking choice to make You should have told me You’re my manager, not her mother

Messages  Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  Oh is all I am then? A manager? I thought we were closer than that, at least it felt that way when you went and entrusted Lottie to me, when you gave me that trust and asked me not to regret it. This is me trying, El. I didn’t choose to be the person to mediate between you both, that just came with the job. If you don’t like how I dealt with it, then maybe you should rethink having me in your sister's life.

Messages  To: Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  Is this your way of guilt tripping me? I just can’t believe you didn’t mention it, not once! You are my manager mila, but I thought you were my friend first and foremost Using me being here as an excuse, with you not wanting to use something like Lottie’s father coming back into her life to intervene with my work? Is just beyond wild. I really can’t believe you didn't tell me

Messages  Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  I thought I was doing best by the both of you. Just call me, Elia.  Please?

Messages  To: Mila (Master/Manager/Obi-wan?)  I need some time to think Maybe later

I quickly switched back to my messages with Lottie, inhaling sharply when I saw that she’d replied to my last text. 

Messages  To: Lottiebug 🐞 I love you loads and I wanna be there for you But I know you need to do this on your own I’m just worried Always worry about you, bug, but this is something I really didn't prepare for

Messages  Lottiebug 🐞 I’m sorry I didn’t tell u Just figured it would be easier to wait til u got back Maybe u could meet him then, see how good it is My stomach rolled at the thought of being close to that man again, but I pushed through and didn’t linger on thoughts of me at sixteen. 

Messages  To: Lottiebug 🐞 I can get a flight home anytime If you want me, I’m a phone call away You know that right?

Messages  Lottiebug 🐞 I know but this is something I need to do On my own Like I love u Els, but this is for me to do

She knew where to hit where it hurt, I supposed, as I stared down at the messages that had come through not thirty seconds after my own. 

Messages  To: Lottiebug 🐞 Promise me, Lottie Anything happens, you call me

Messages  Lottiebug 🐞 Nothing will happen but I promise Promise to also call u before bed tonite yh?

I bit down hard on my cheek at the reassurance, which did nothing to reassure me, and felt the first ebb of blood, the way its metallic taste fled over my tongue in a haste to flood its entirety. Silently I cursed myself, but before I knew it my thumbs were flying over my screen again. 

Messages  To: Lottiebug 🐞 Okay Love you, bug x

Messages  Lottiebug 🐞 Love u more weirdo!! Xxxx

I guessed that it would just have to do for now.

A creak had me looking up and to no one’s surprise Marshall had come back for the second half of drinks, so I pocketed my phone after making sure that it was on alert and not the usual silent, then moved to meet him at the counter. “Want help?” 

His eyes narrowed at the offer and he was quick to swipe the lot of them up, “I said two trips.”

Shaking my head, I could do nothing but follow the idiot. Hoping to whoever was out there that the time in the studio would do me some good and allow me to leave thoughts of the past behind. For a while at least. 

–

The studio was just a rather large portion of the lower level of Marshall’s house. It was decked out though, kitted with all the latest works and better than a majority of studios I’d worked in, truthfully. But it also had this homey sort of feel that allowed the music to flow a lot better simply due to the atmosphere that offered a familiar comfort.

“You got it?”

I let the door close slowly behind me, trying not to let its heavy weight cause a slam, before I trailed my way back on over to where Marshall was sat on one of the two black couches. They were leather and sleek, but their obvious expense was muted by the multiple layers of blankets and pillows he had lining them.

I glanced at him and held up the bound book I had in hand, having darted up the stairs to pull it from my case when I realised he wanted to work through lyrics first thing. 

A majority of my thoughts were often jotted down in one notebook or another, but the notes app was a saviour for whenever an idea struck me and my book wasn’t near. I’d brought just the one on this trip, seeing as I’d been using it for the last two years and it was as thick as an actual brick. But back home I had about twelve others littering an old shelf in a room I mostly used for storage. The pleasures of having a house with rooms you didn’t really need, I figured.

Marshall’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of it, wrapped and bound in a thick wire to keep the pages from spilling open. I smirked in turn, wandering closer to slump down in the seat beside him, his laptop and the many pages he already had scattered about.

“You said book, not doorstop.” He mentioned when I turned to him, eyes still caught on the thing. 

I thumped him with it before I placed it down by his laptop. 

“Jesus.” He huffed, hand coming up to rub the arm I’d hit, before he made a reach for it. 

I cringed silently in wait, it was one thing to write in the thing but there were all sorts of odd bits and bobs in that book; from little receipts from dinners that had inspired songs to bottle caps and Polaroids that had written me albums.

“Be careful,” I hurried when his fingers unwound the strap I’d had to superglue twice in the past month alone, “It’s basically–”

“Falling apart?” Marshall finished for me.

I smiled sheepishly in turn, shoulders jutting upwards in a shrug. “Yeah.” 

He huffed a small laugh whilst I thinned my lips to keep from chuckling along with him. 

A normal person wouldn’t have really known where to start with a notebook this size, especially seeing as the pages were both upside down and back to front, having been written in haphazardly over the years and oftentimes stuck back together. But it was also due to the first few pages being all blacked out and slightly torn, an artistic choice I’d claim over the truth of my hatred for the words that had once marked it, as well as the paw prints of a mate’s dog who had won a battle of tug of war with it.

But Marshall had never once claimed to be conventional and so he headed straight for the middle where a large photo had been stuck in, surrounded by a multitude of signatures, drawings and markings. “What’s this?”

At his question, I followed his gaze down to where his fingers toyed with the book, fighting against gravity to keep the remaining pages from spilling over.

“Mostly from people I’ve worked with over the past year or two. Musicians, writers, producers, even got a couple roadies too. But there are some markings from mates– like, see that little picture of a cow, right there? That was my friend Fran, she does tattoos and the like, figured it would be a nice addition. She’s beyond talented though, did this massive mural for me back home.” I paused to look the rest of them over, then reached out to point at a signature floating nearby, “That there is David’s little hello, a smiley face alongside a couple drops of his coffee.”

“As in Bowie?” Marshall asked me, eyes caught and flitting over everything else the page had to offer.

I blew out a small chuckle but nodded, “Yeah, it was just before his 25th album came out. He was proper lovely, only got to talk to him for a few minutes though.”

Marshall hummed and then tapped a finger against a stark green ink that blotted a corner of the page, “This one?”

“Matty Healy. Worked with him on the last release. He just drew a massive knob because he is one.” I replied, thinking back to last time I’d been in London and spotted him and some of the band in a Soho nightclub. “They released their own album a month or so before your last. It’s their first but they’re brilliant.”

He hummed again, so I wasn’t sure as to whether he knew who the fuck I was going on about, but before I could explain a little, Em grabbed my attention once more, gesturing towards the page’s main focus, the picture. “How old were you here?”

I scratched the side of my neck and thought about it, “I wanna say twenty-two? Maybe? Don’t quote me on that though, but yeah, around that age.”

The picture was a cutout from the Camden New Journal at one of my bigger gigs, just after I’d been scouted in the bar I’d been working at. It was a snap of me and the small band I’d worked with once we’d finished our set, the crowd throwing pints up in the air whilst they’d started to crowd the stage. It was a picture I had framed back at the house as well as in a few of my other notebooks. It was something I turned to whenever I felt as though I was failing, or feeling uninspired.

Marshall’s thumb grazed lazily over its corner for a moment before he finally moved to turn the page, eyes instantly taking in the sudden change of pace. This page was scattered; it held a lollipop wrapper in one corner from a song I’d written about well, lollipops and the like, a couple of verses that were upside down and in luminous pink, and then there was another bout of lyrics from a whole different session marked down in dark blue that were written sideways.

“Your mind’s as fucked as mine.”

I snorted at the phrasing but decided to take it as a compliment, “Thanks.”

He shook his head and then started carding his way through the rest of the book, picking out the lyrics he recognised from songs of mine, as well as a few others he liked. It went on like that for a while, the two of us getting consumed in ideas and metaphors, the way we could play with words and shape them into something or other. 

An hour or two had to have passed before Marshall started pulling up different beats he’d been working on, explaining the samples used and the many layers that had been mixed in. I found myself liking a handful of them, even going as far as to start a harmony on one that Em appeared to tally down on a page he had laying out nearby. 

“So, you gone rap then?”

The question, however off-guard it caught me, was one that had me rolling my eyes, “You gonna sing?” I snarked back, my words sounding almost like a dare.

His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip before they quirked up into a smirk, “I can’t sing. You though, you can spit.”

I shook my head and snorted, pulling the lyrics we’d scrounged up closer to me and purposefully not thinking about the notes I had stored away in my phone. 

“Don’t be like that.” Marshall prodded, shifting in his position to nudge me with his elbow, “Jus’ think about it. This could be the time to experiment. You say your label wants something different, something to garner attention on your next record, right? So.. this here, it’s just me and you. No one else. And I’m only gone judge you if you’re really crappy.”

“Oh, and that makes me wanna try so much more!” I enthused, letting my songbook spring back open as I pulled away– the thing honestly had a mind of its own.

Marshall tutted, “Come on.”

I sighed, but did end up looking back over to him. “You’re a dick.”

He raised his eyebrows in retort, then decided to try a new tactic. “Fine, how ‘bout this. You rap something of mine. Then I’ll sing one o’ yours.”

I blinked, unsure if I'd heard him correctly. “You're shitting me.”

Marshall just shook his head, “You in or out?”

My eyes flickered between his, mouth slightly agape. But found I couldn’t turn down the offer. “Alright, but I get to choose what song.”

“For me or you?” 

I flashed him a sly grin, “Both.”

He let go of a long breath but ultimately decided that the term was worth it, “Aight, bet.”

And so that was how I got to start rapping Rabbit Run in the middle of Marshall’s home studio, the beat playing throughout the room whilst the man himself watched on from the couch with a slow growing grin on his face. 

I got so into it that I ended up working my way through the entirety of the song, bouncing away and playing up to the freedom of it just being the two of us.

“Whoo, go on!” Em hollered loudly once the final lyric had come and the beat had ended, kicking his feet against the floor whilst I laughed and shook my head at the reaction. It was in moments like these that I could often forget that he was marginally one of the biggest rappers of our generation. 

When he was like this, all goofy and happy, he was just Em. 

“Good now?” I asked around another chuckle, my nose wrinkling as I moved to sag back into my seat, hating how my cheeks had flushed at being the centre of attention as well as his praise. 

“Good? Girl, you’re rappin’ on this record even if it kills me!” Marshall stated, blowing a breath out around his grin, the one I’d grown accustomed to only seeing in rare and few moments.

“Fuck off.” I huffed, but even with the harsh words I was still smiling, just sheepish in the face of his applause.

“I’m bein’ for real. You got talent. When you’re up there, you just go for it ‘cause it’s fun. It’s all a joke to you, and you like bein’ in on it. But you’re good.” Marshall told me, having turned in his stance so that he could gesture along to his words, only furthering his point. “You don’t even know it.”

I rolled my eyes and tried to look away, wanting to hide the warmth that failed to leave me as I waved off his words with a hand that he then caught with his own, tugging on my arm until I looked back at him. 

“Trust me on this.” 

Just hearing those words, I was instantly reminded of the night before. Means a lot that you trust me.

His eyes were so imploring that I couldn’t cope with it, so I smiled and let his fingers slip from my grasp. “This you trying to back out of our deal, Mathers? ‘Cause if I remember rightly, you still owe me a song.“

Marshall shook his head ever so, but let me get away with the change in subject, moving forward so that he could push himself to his feet. I slid closer to his laptop and headed to YouTube quickly to find an instrumental that someone had made of one of my songs. I looked through them all until I grinned and decided on an older work. 

“Ready?” I asked over the screen. He simply flipped me off in return, so I huffed around a smirk and pressed play, letting the track croon out of the surrounding speakers. 

Good Company was a song I’d written long before I’d gone and gotten signed. It was rough and full of soul, but was easy enough to sing along to if you missed the high runs on the bridge. It juxtaposed the best and worst parts of me, but concentrated on me only ever showing those worse and bitter parts of myself to those I loved most. It wasn’t one the label had liked at first but it grew on you, and though it hadn’t been a chosen single it had actually managed to make it onto the Top Ten when the album had debuted. It was a favourite of mine and to hear Marshall attempt to sing and not butcher it that badly, well, it was sort of like a dream come true.

“Why the fuck do you claim you can’t sing?” I announced the second the song came to a close. Because I honestly had to give it to him, even with the slight laughter he’s started out with, Marshall had truly given it his best. He’d pranced around like a div (which had just told me that he’d seen the music video) and had actually attempted to hit those higher notes that even I sometimes struggled with when playing live.

“‘Cause I can’t.” Marshall scoffed, panting slightly as he fell back onto the couch, fiddling with the rim of his hat whilst he took the spare second to catch his breath. 

“Don’t lie! You can. Bit pitchy at times,” He extended his arm out to swat me at that, yet I still continued on, “But you’re good, Marsh! We should harmonise together.”

He rolled his eyes at the very idea, but kept them shut when he pulled his hands up to rest on his stomach. I smiled at the sight. 

“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me just yet, old man.” I prompted, “We’ve got work to do.”

Marshall’s foot struck out to kick at my ankle, which was deserving, I supposed. Still, I returned the hit with just enough force to get him up and moving again. He sighed in resignation and then reached for the glasses he had laid out, swivelling his hat round so that he could look over the few sheets we’d complied.

Struck at the sight of him in his wired frames and backwards cap, I had to literally tear my eyes away and down onto the paper I was handed before he could catch me looking. He was none the wiser. 

“We’ve got some good shit. But ‘s not enough.” Marshall mentioned after a minute or so of silently debating, his eyes wracking over the sprawled lyrics we’d produced. 

I chewed on my lower lip, phone burning a hole in my back pocket. When he sighed once more, I felt the sudden need to just show him the notes and put the idea out there. 

Heaving out a breath, I forced the device from my jeans to open up my notes app, flicking past the few that were worthless until I came across one I’d been thinking about since we’d first sat down.

Em chose that moment to glance over at me, eyes somehow bluer behind the lens of his glasses. I swallowed and all but shoved the phone towards him. 

He frowned but took it, unable not to, and I watched on in silence as he read it through, then read it though again. His fingers began tapping away on his knee the third time around. 

When he looked back up at me, I was surprised by the sudden change his face held, the way his expression had literally lit up. “The fuck you been holdin’ out on me for?” He practically demanded, voice having kicked up a pitch in his eager haste to try and work this into the mix. 

I was left blinking back at him, watching as he scribbled a plethora of words and letters onto the page we’d been working on, using arrows and lines to showcase his thinking, how he wanted the song to move. To flow. 

I barely had a second to think before he had his own phone out and was dialling away. My eyes widened when the Master of Mixology himself picked up. 

“What do you want, Marshall?”

Any other time I would have cackled at the sheer amount of resignation that greeting held, but it seemed as though I was suddenly tongue tied.

“Why you always think I’m doin’ stupid shit?” Marshall shot back at the man, though from where I was sat I could see the slight curve to his lip. 

“‘Cause I know you? And you usually are.” Dre answered, blunt and to the point. Very much how I’d pictured him. “So why d’you stop to fuck up my afternoon?”

“It’s afternoon already?” Marshall asked, brow furrowing as he shared a look with me.

“Two pm.” Dre told him with a sigh.

“Shit.” Marshall muttered under his breath, gesturing to me with a hand and an almost pleading look, “Set an alarm for when Z gets in, please?”

“Be easier if you did it, Em. Seeing as I’m in New York and you’re in Detroit.” Dre answered, which earned him a scoff from Marshall. 

“Not you.” He told the older man, but I was already on it, swiping out of my notes app so that I could do exactly that.

“The fuck?”

Marshall’s mouth twitched at the disgruntled retort, “With Elia right now, man. We’ve been workin’ on some new shit.”

“El–ee–ah!” Dre called back, really getting into the pronunciation of it. I chuckled softly. “How are you? Is Marshall takin’ good care of you? No troubles, right?”

Grinning, I leaned in closer to Em to be heard. “He’s been a real gent. Holding open doors and basically waiting on me hand and foot.” I teased, earning a side eye from the man himself, “If anything you should be asking him if he’s holding up okay.”

“She got you wrapped round that finger quick!” Dre gruffed out a laugh, the sound loud and joyous even through the phone’s tinny speakers, “It’s what I like to hear.” He added as his laughter ebbed, “Glad things are working out between you both– what’s this about the album then? We got something special?”

Marshall’s tongue darted out over his lip as his eyes flickered over to find me, “I think we hit the jackpot with this one, man. Can already picture it, Dre, like honestly. Shit she’s pulled out has got me feelin’ all nostalgic– it’s good. Too good. Reminds me of some of the stuff they were spittin’ way back before I came around.”

My eyebrows rose a little at his explanation, but I didn’t dare add on or contradict his words. Not that I would, seeing as he was practically spot on with the analysis. 

“No shit?” Dre sounded surprised, but I took it in stride when Em shuffled forward on the couch in his haste to read out some of the stuff we had jotted down, as well as the few lyrics I’d just handed him. 

The man on the other end of the call hummed in thought when Marshall finally wrapped up his whirlwind of a reply, letting the silence linger between us until I was chewing on the insides of my cheeks once more.

“I’ll Facetime you later once you’ve worked on it some more.” Dre eventually said, halting the tic of Em’s knee, a gesture I only took note of once it had stopped. “It’s promising though. Real promising. Figure we got something here with the pair of you.”

The look Marshall shot me at that had my mind turning to sludge.

–

Alarms always had me spooked, the sound so abrupt and alert that even though I was expecting it, I was never truly expecting it. You know?

Marshall and I had continued to work away, floating ideas back and forth with Dre and then without him once the man eventually got called away. It was slow going, but like Dre himself had said, oh so promising.

Never had I felt so listened to during a writing session. Marshall never failed to give me his full attention even when he was scrawling away or counting a tempo, it was as though he was able to just hone in on every notion I brought up, building on it as he nodded away and pointed to the places he figured we could add it in or just blend.

So by the time that alarm finally rang out, it was safe to say we were making a hell of a lot of progress. So much so that Marshall looked torn once we’d both jumped out of our skin at the sound and I’d hurried to silence it. 

His hands fluttered through the many pages we had, as well as my songbook, mouth thinned as his brows dipped together. Rosie would be home in a matter of minutes but he was still spinning with ideas.

I, on the other hand, was all too ready to take a break, head starting to feel heavy with the sheer amount of words it had taken in today. Marshall was a fucking living and breathing thesaurus.

“I can go hang out with her for a bit if you wanna keep on working.” I offered after I’d checked my phone for any recent notifications, noting that the only message I’d received was from Mila. An apology of sorts, letting me know that she’d be willing to wait for me to reach out again.

Em’s frown was palpable. He shook his head, “Can’t ask you to do that.”

I let go of an amused huff, “Good thing you didn’t ask then, I offered.”

His forehead furrowed further whilst he continued to collect the many sheets, I passed him the one I’d been gatekeeping. “Still.” He tried to push, but I just shrugged the word away.

“I could use the break,” I mentioned, reaching for the few empty bottles we’d settled on the floor around our feet, “Might even get a headstart on dinner if you guys aren’t going out.”

Marshall looked a little perplexed at that, “Goin’ out?”

I shrugged again, but smiled when he handed me his latest bottle, piling it into the bin alongside the rest so that I could take it back up the stairs with me. “I don’t know what plans you have!” I laughed lightly.

He ended up rolling his eyes at that, “If I did they’d include you, idiot. Wasn’t plannin’ on goin’ out though.” He retorted, before pausing and glancing over to me, “Why, did you want to?”

Honestly, he was hard work. I could only huff out another round of chuckles as I shook my head at him, “No, you’re all good. Like I said, I could get started on dinner.”

The expression he pulled then looked almost strained, as though he wasn’t used to being offered help, much less willing to accept it. But I could tell that he wanted to. He was on a roll here and it was obvious that he was desperate to keep ahold of that inspiration for as long as it would last.

I stopped with what I was doing to step closer again, hoping to reassure him somewhat. “I wouldn’t offer, if I minded.” I told him gently, “Just pray that I don’t poison the lot of us or burn the house down if I do start cooking though.”

He laughed a little at that, face softening at my words. It still took him another minute or so to finally agree, dipping his head ever so slightly in the most minute version of a nod, “You’ll call out if you need me?”

I raised a brow, “What, into your soundproof studio?”

He breathed out another chuckle, tongue pushing against his teeth as his hands fell limply between his knees, papers shuffling ever so. “Call me, call me. Or just use the intercom.”

“Yeah, not happening.” I quickly quipped, eyeing the so called intercom with obvious distaste, “I’ll call. I don’t know the first thing about how to work that.”

Marshall’s smug smirk was evident when I glanced back over at him, enough so that I could only flip him off as I moved to leave the room, muttering under my breath about being too kind to idiots, something that only proved to humour him further. 

“‘Preciate it!” He called out just before the door could close behind me. 

It had me smiling all the same.

[therealcocoshady]

Meeting Marshall Mathers

Author’s Note : Hi guys 💕. I’ve been thinking about ways a potential Reader might meet the one and only Marshall Mathers. Maybe for future one shots. Enjoy these little prompts ! 😉 If you’re a writer yourself and decide to use one of these, tag me !

Meet cute

* The two of you live in the same neighborhood. You meet while walking your dogs, and the two of them absolutely adore each other !

* You go to an Eminem meet and greet and he recognizes you from some viral TikTok you did of one of his songs.

* You’re a model and you end up booking a job for a music video. You find out on the day of that it’s Eminem… and that he’s the one who personally chose you !

* You’re a vendor for the wedding of one of his daughters.

* You’re an interior designer and you are hired for the renovation of one room. He ends up hiring you so to the whole house. Not because it needs it. But because he needs an excuse to see you.

* One of his friends follows you on Instagram. Marshall sees you on his friend’s phone and asks them to set up a blind date.

* You’re rapping one of Marshall’s song in your car… before noticing that he’s in the car next to yours.

Meet Ugly

* Marshall adopted a dog he attempts to train, but the « beast » attacks you.

* Your husband cheats on you with his girlfriend. You meet when you both have the same plan to follow your partner to the hotel room they booked.

* Your daughter is in the same class as one of his. You meet when you’re called into the principal’s office because the girls had a fight.

* The two of you are set up on a blind date. Marshall shows up late and you berate him for it.

* You have a fender bender and you insult him and his gaudy, ridiculous luxury car.

* You’re at a party with friends and he overhears you bashing one of his tracks or albums.

* You’re dating a rapper he has beef with, who name-dropped Hailie in a song. So Marshall name-dropped you.

* It’s 2007 and you’re a nurse at the rehab center Marshall enters after his overdose.

* Someone breaks into your new house and you run to your neighbor’s for help in nothing but a towel. Turns out… Marshall’s your neighbor.

* It’s in the early 2000s. Marshall is wasted and gets in a bar fight. He throws a punch to someone but accidentally knocks you out.

* You meet at a football game. He supports the Lions. You’re cheering for the 49ers.

* You work at a venue he performs at and his bodyguard mistakes you for a fan who broke in and attempts to throw you out.

* Stuck in an elevator and you have a panic attack.

* There is some mix up at a hotel you’re staying at and he’s given a key to your suite instead of his. You meet when he walks in on you in your underwear.

* Some luggage confusion happens at the airport. You end up with each others suitcase and have to meet to do the exchange.