#anyways the next chapter got long and a bit content heavy so its going up separately

[cambria-writes]

it certainly is december 24th! sorry for taking so long to update; i’ve been in a writing slump for a few weeks, and though the next few chapters of honey are already written, i just. completely forgot about them?

anyways i’ll be posting a nice lil winter/holiday special later today or tomorrow, depending on how i feel. for now at least you have the next chapter!

pairing: patrick jane x reader word count: 2,852 rating: T, each chapter rated individually warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, reader goes a bit heavy on the wine lmao, implied homophobia

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𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓: 𝔐𝔦𝔵𝔢𝔯

It’s simple enough: have a nice dinner, get drunk (or, at least, look very drunk), approach the broody paranoid-looking rich boy, get him to follow you...

And then it gets a little vague.

“You’re still worrying about it,” Jane comments, sipping at the same glass of wine he had twenty minutes ago.

“Whatever gave it away, darling?” The smile almost hurts your face. It’s a struggle to keep your voice just this side of sickly-sweet. Jane gives you a toothy grin that nearly makes you shiver. The resemblance to a starving fox isn’t lost on you.

“Just use your womanly wiles. You’ll be fine, you’re not at all hard on the eyes.”

He takes a careful sip of his wine while you nearly spit out the mouthful of salad you’re trying to choke down. You can feel the burn spread from your face to your chest. You hate it.

“Don’t do that,” you mutter, washing everything down by finishing whatever wine was left. You wave down your waiter; you’re far too sober for any of this. You ask for a cocktail; you don’t care what it is as long as it’s sweet and strong. The waiter gives you a look but walks off to a small bar somewhere off to your left.

“Do what?,” Jane asks, and you hate the innocence in his tone. Everything about you says what.

“Fli-flirt with me,” you whisper, stabbing the remains of your salad with more vigor than necessary. You keep your eyes down. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Ah, but you don’t dislike it.” The victory is his voice makes you want to scream. You look up at him incredulously. There’s a retort, but it dies on your tongue when the waiter drops a crystal blue highball glass in front of you.

He rattles off its name and contents but you don’t care. Chug half of it in one go and finish your salad. You can feel the alcohol singing in your veins like fire. You raise your hand to down the rest of it, but... stop.

Sharpen your fear into a knife. That means you need fear to sharpen. Though arguably you are slightly inebriated, you are still a good, healthy measure of terrified. You’re in a restaurant too nice for your bank account. You’re sitting with a man you hardly know pretending to be his newly wed wife despite the fact that his actual wife is Very Dead. You’re expected to approach the handsome and paranoid son of a Russian mob boss like you have no idea who he is.

And you got shot at for knowing a dog a few days ago. Terrified probably doesn’t actually cut it.

The more you think about it, the more paralyzed you feel yourself become. Jane places a hand over your glass and forces you to lower your arm. The look he gives you is confusing.

“All you need to do,” Jane begins quietly. He never breaks eye contact. Somehow that unnerves and challenges you to do the same. “Is bring him to an empty table and talk to him. See the most you can in him.”

You notice that he noticeably doesn’t remove him hand from yours in a noticeable way. You start to think maybe you drank too fast.

“...I can do that,” you say slowly, losing track of the words as they exit your mouth. Your resolve doesn’t solidify so much as it coagulates. You look back to the paranoid brooding man by the window. Look back to Jane.

This’ll be fine. You’re technically single. You’re playing house with a handsome not-detective. And you’re closer to drunk than you’ve been in a while.

It’s fine.

There’s an extra sway to your hips as you make your way to the Window Man. His family eyes you cautiously but otherwise say or do nothing. You’d sigh if you had the presence of mind to. As it is, you feel nervous and flushed and a little bit breathless. You look over your shoulder to Jane, whose face displays everything from “look at my beautiful wife” to “look at all these sheep thinking there isn’t a wolf in their midst”. You swallow the bubbling giggles rising in your throat.

You stop a few feet away from Mr Brooding and lean forward to the side a little. Thank your stars you chose to wear the dress that shows at least a little cleavage. You don't touch him, and firmly hold your hands behind your back.

"Excuse me..?," you ask tentatively, and almost jump out of your skin when your target does. He whips around to glare daggers at you. Until he isn't, and his eyes follow your dress' straps down your neckline. Could use more class, but it's all whatever at this point.

"Wha—,” The man starts, but his voice sounds choked. Clears his throat and starts again. “What do you want?”

Can’t help but notice that most of the tension has left his shoulders. Was it really as easy as playing the part of the drunk bimbo?

“Sorry, gosh, I didn’t mean to scare you!” Place a hand low on your chest for emphasis and lean back on your heels. Ignore the slowly growing soreness in your feet. “My name’s Magda Wi—ah, Stephens!” Pretend to forget that your maiden name is gone. Seems to work; Brooding Man doesn’t seem to catch it.

The fake names roll off your tongue better with the alcohol. At least you hope; sounding believable while drunk is hard. How were you expected to ace this, again?

Brooding Man still eyes you suspiciously. You look over your shoulder and wiggle your fingers at Jane. He wiggles his fingers back at you. He makes a good show of looking far more inebriated than you know he is.

Turn back to the man in front of you with a dumb, apologetic grin on your face.

“Truth is, we just got married right? But I’ve always been kind of wild, you know, and he lets me get really crazy, bless than idiot, but—I’m sorry, geez, I’m rambling. Do you mind if we sit down? The wine’s getting to my head a bit but I really hope you can hear me out. Please?”

Clasping your hands right under your chest seems to work a charm; Brooding Man can’t help but look back down before looking back up at your face. Your very flushed face. It’s a miracle the people of Singapore can’t hear how hard your heart is beating.

“Sure,” Brooding Man answer’s smoothly. His entire demeanor changes. He offers you his arm to guide you to one of the few empty tables. The wait staff give you a look. The Family give you a look. Jane looks on wordlessly but with the starved attention of a predator.

“My name’s James Madore.”

James—Jim, Jimmy, Jamie—takes to you like a fly to honey. He hangs after your every word like they’re gold as soon as you mention you and your “husband” are looking for a +1 to your first honeymoon night. You rattle off the name of a hotel Jane had given you, and James seems pleasantly satisfied. Must be high-end, then. Not like you’d know.

You talk about yourself like the most self-absorbed, vapid girl on the planet. Your work in PR, you’re, like, so good with social media. You’ve worked with the Kardashians and Kanye and even Madonna for a little bit. You like the modest ring your husband have you because the chunky garbage is so overrated. You like indie music like it’s your lifeblood.

You make yourself sound like the worst hipster you’ve ever heard. And for whatever reason, it’s actually working. James is absolutely enthralled—both by whatever incoherent mess falls out of your mouth and by your cleavage.

You place a chilled hand over his on the table. He doesn’t flinch or pull away. He leans in closer. You’d almost be attracted to him if he wasn’t so, just. So arrogant.

“But geez, Jamie! You’re letting me do all the talking here!” Laugh like you’re pretending to be self conscious. You’re still not sober enough to know if you’re doing a good job of it. “What about you! What do you do? Is that your family over there? They look nice!”

They don’t look nice. When you wave at them, the older woman—presumably James’ mother—looks three seconds away from murdering you just for thinking about touching her son. Tough.

James tenses. Oh, that’s new.

Tilt your head to the side to feign ignorance rather than sudden intrigue.

“They’re alright,” James starts slowly, looking quickly over his shoulder before turning back to you. “Family business is rough though. My dad’s been trying to groom me to take over for years and my mom’s already decided who I’m supposed to marry. Can you believe that shit?”

A gasp. “Oh no! You’re kidding me! Seriously? Arranged marriages in this day and age?”

“Christ, right? It’s like they live in the 1700s!” James throws his head back in what looks like pure, unadulterated relief. You almost wish you could say you understand. When he bring his head back down, he looks... dismayed. You’d even say hopeless.

“Oh no,” you start, look around and lean in. Lower your voice. “You got your eyes on another girl?”

James looks stunned for a second, and then slowly shakes his head. You’re about to ask what, then, when it clicks.

Oh. Oh no. There’s a clear picture forming in your foggy mind and you’re not sure you like it. Force yourself you grin like a Cheshire Cat through your empathy and lean back in your chair.

“Well, if you don’t mind it, I’m sure you and my husband would get along just fine.”

James actually looks like he’s considering it for a minute. Looks back at his family—barely a fraction of a second—and then snatches his hand away from yours like it’s made of burning embers. Hide the confusion under a layer of what you hope is carefully crafted concern. You open your mouth to ask what’s wrong, or offer reassurances, but silence yourself when you see James’ hands. His fingers are nearly white from how hard he’s gripping he table.

“Look, no offence, I’m sure you’re some decent folk, but I’m not interested,” he says sharply. You can’t help yourself from grabbing at his sleeve as he gets up. Do your best to shake the wine from your head long enough to think before you speak.

“Please. I honestly started out just wanting to pick you up for a threesome—“ James’ face turns about five shades of crimson. “—but you seem like a good kid. I just—I want to help you. Even if it's just giving you a night to relax, no strings attached. Just one night of fun where you can forget who you are.”

James' face is impassive for a little bit, but you think you can see him considering the offer. Considering you, at the very least; his eyes are fixed on your face. It's a little unnerving, honestly. The more you watch him, though, the more he seems like he's faltering. And somehow, though your mission wasn't really to woo him or even reel him in, you find yourself determined to do something.

You catch yourself fidgeting with the pendant around your neck when the young man's eyes drift down to it. He has the decency to snap his gaze right back up to your face. Your hand wraps around the teardrop pendant—clear and blue—and move to take it off.

"How about this," you start carefully. "I'm kind of a fortune teller on the side sometimes. How about you ask some questions and I try and get some answers for you?"

Jane's grip on your hand is almost bruising as he pulls you along behind him. You don't really have the time to say anything. You don't really breathe, either. Your hand comes up to your bare neck. You kind of wish you hadn't dropped your pendant in Jane's haste to get you out. You kind of liked it.

"Quick, come on, get in," Jane orders calmly, but his tone betrays the set of his eyes. You swallow thickly. You don't even have time to buckle up before Jane tears out of the parking lot. Confusion, mild panic and inebriation make it impossible to actually tell and remember which direction he's heading towards.

"Okay," you breathe, finally snapping your seat belt in place. You let your head fall back and stare blankly at the car's roof. "Can you tell me exactly what just happened? Because I think I'm still too drunk to actually process."

Jane makes an ugly sound that's probably somewhere between choking and laughing. Great. Fantastic. This is absolutely not how you'd planned your evening and night to go.

"The Madore family's been linked to some pretty shady stuff for the past few years," he starts explaining. You vaguely notice that this is the first time he refuses to tear his eyes off the road while driving. You don't comment on it.

"James isn't so keen on following in his brothers' and father's footsteps. He's been trying to distance himself from the family business for a while now."

"Yeah, okay, makes sense that his family would seem like god damn flies in a soup then." Jane chuckles and continues.

"Exactly. They're trying everything to make sure James keeps the family business going, but he keeps sneaking right past them every other time. Like when he was spotted with a 'guy friend' at a bar last week."

You snort. "It's a dude in his twenties going to a bar with a friend, wha—," I cut myself off when I turn to look at Jane. While he's got half of a smirk plastered on his face, he looks... almost sad? Apologetic? "Oh.That kind of guy friend. The kind of guy friend who makes a man turn down a drunk girl propositioning him."

Jane laughs out loud and throws his head back. Your mind goes blank for a second; the column of his neck when he laughs is... You shake your head and shudder. Not entirely sure you like where you mind is wandering right now.

"Right, exactly. James hasn't been able to get a single minute to himself since that photographer caught them. Those pictures haven't been made public either, so you can guess what happened to the one who saw them." You make a face; yes, you can guess, and you would much rather not. "It's James' boyfriend who send me an email a few days ago to try and find out why he hasn't heard from James since their last date."

You make a sour face. The boyfriend has no idea, then? Who James Madore is? Did James lie about who he is? Or did it just never come up in conversation?

"Wait." You grab Jane's right arm in sudden realization. You don't mean to stun him the way you do but the way it makes him look at you makes your mouth go dry. The words get stuck in your throat. He's quick to look back at the road ahead.

"Yes?"

"I—you had asked me to—I never got him? To come back with us?" You're starting to think that maybe you aren't as drunk as you think and maybe there's something else entirely wrong with you. Your hand is still wrapped around Jane's elbow. You try desperately not to notice how his arm feels deceptively muscular.

"I didn’t, actually," he replies with a smirk. It almost makes you want to scream. “But don’t worry about it. I got what I needed from watching you.”

Oh come on, there has to have been a better way to word that. You can feel heat scorching your cheeks and neck. That's just not fair. You take your hand back like the contact with him burned you.

It probably did.

"Okay, so, what now then?" There has to be something else to be done after this, right? It can't just end with a single night of pseudo-investigation and being chased out by an angry mob family because you tried to touch their son's face after having answering a particularly sensitive question, right?

Jane shrugs like doesn't care. "I have some ideas, but it's not something you need to bother yourself with."

You let out an indignant scoff; all of this so you don't need to bother yourself with the end result?

"Beg your pardon, but what the fuck?"

"Language," Jane gasps, putting a hand to his chest in mock offence. When he turns to look at you and notices that your face still clearly displays shock and anger, he makes quick work of backtracking.

"I'm sorry, what I meant to say is that I have a backdoor for James if he wants one. There's just a lot of questionable paperwork and people involved, so..."

"Plausible deniability, huh? How kind of you," you mutter, shifting in your seat to rest your head against the window and watch the road go by.

The rest of the drive goes by in silence.

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

please comment to let me know if you’d like to be added!

@fucklife-or-me @yearningforsappho @mamacakeishereforfun @newavenger

[gontagokuhara]

OKAY I FORGOR💀 TO MENTION THIS actually idk if I already said this but I LOVE the way you write kokichi? Like kokichi's jesterism clowncore energy is not talked about enough in this fandom, he's not just a lying troll, he can also be a corny little canned-bit filled jokester! He can be your angle! Or yuor devil! But he and Kaede give off such an "annoying little brother"/"exhausted oldest sister" vibe in pointy objects it never fails to make me laugh and also feel feelings!

Also ngl writing my lil (literally >2k) review gave me the energy to do my writing assignment so thank you for indirectly but also directly contributing to me not failing my class LMFAO

hi hello!! first of all thank u again for ur very sweet comments i keep rereading them . actively working on the next chapter and i reread them like an hour ago <3 also you are so me re: the writing thing literally i am writing this long ass response out as a warm up to getting started on the chapter again I SEE U. solidarity u got this class

as always below the cut because i like to yap (no spoilers butttttttt call it a small hint of what's to come next chapter)

ANYWAY !!! im glad people like that choice <3 his general silliness tends to get lost in canon in the midst of such a heavy fraught situation (where his dumbass is instigating fights constantly......) and so i feel it more natural to have it bleed into him in pointy objects you know? his backpack also offers just unreal opportunities for clownery and i can't help myself. i have issues with a lot of canon/fanon portrayals of kokichi so with him (as i do miu, and kiyo, and kaito, etc) i like to do the classic mogul move yoink & twist. i take character that needs fixer-uppering, mash 'em around like playdoh, and make them mostly the same but......better in my humble opinion. i feel like i do that pretty well with kokichi, and hearing those choices are appreciated makes me very happy <3

in that vein the kaede/kokichi dynamic is SOOOO important its one of my favorites ive worked into pointy objects i think. justice for my real protag kaede BUT her biting the dust so early both robbed canon content of what a friendship between them could look like. but it also gives me LOTS of room to pick up their barbie dolls and make them have good moments together. speaking of pointy objects canon, they arrived at camp within about a year of each other, before a lot of the other mainstay demigods began living there full time. gonta, miu, kaede, maki, and kokichi spent a lot of time as the only ones at camp; kids like kirumi/tenko/himiko/angie/kiyo are all summer-only, and full-timers ryoma, kaito, and kiibo came later (ages 14, 16, and within a few months of sonia giving them a soul [roughly the same stretch of time as ryoma's arrival], respectively).

all that lore TO say: kaede and kokichi grew up together in a lot of really important ways, and the dynamic that developed over the years very much is that exhausted older sister/exhausting little brother who are fiercely and kind of unexpectedly protective over one another. i could go on about all of the early full-time campers' dynamics because there's a lot within those five especially that i've like. developed in my brain? but havent fit into the 170k words 💀 the mind palace of spiderwebbing character relationships is very vast for how much has actually made it into the fic.....but wink wonk we WILL see a taste of it this next chapter

and finally, re edits: i did my one BIG edit fest back in may, and since then there haven't been any major changes. that said, i do reread the prior chapters quite often (checking details to make sure new writing doesn't have any discrepancies, getting myself back in the headspace to write shuuichi's voice, etc) and do occasionally find typos or phrasing or sentence flow i like changed, so i do fix those as i see them. that said, i DO know what you're talking about with chapter 3; that was a chapter i did pretty majorly redo in may, and there was definitely some redundant word use and odd sentence structure i went back and corrected. but i haven't made any changes that drastically alter the contents of the story; not more so than i did back in may, at least!

ok this as always got very long but it was as always very fun to answer!!!! thank you again for all your support MWAH MWAH and im sure we'll make contact again soon enough!!

[centrifuge-politics]

Brick Club 4.3.7

Another terrible, if amusing, chapter title translation. “À tristesse, tristesse et demie” or “To Sadness, Sadness and a half.” Trust Wraxall to lose all the nuance of that line...

“In short, Jean Valjean cordially detested this young man.” Yeah, yeah, very fair. If a strange young man with “equivocal prudence and an awkward boldness” started hanging around really suspiciously without ever having spoken to them or introduced himself, I’d be on edge too.

“Ten years later, with the love of Marius in her heart, she would have answered: ‘Pedantic and insupportable to the sight! you are quite right!’” Oh no, I’m laughing and crying. Cosette: this is my pedantic husband, he’s utterly insupportable and I love him very much.

I think Hugo tries to make some generalizations that honestly just come across as very Cosette/Marius specific tropes. “The young girl does not allow herself to be caught in any toil, the young man falls into all.” First of all, this is just what happens when a disaster alignment and a distinguished alignment are in a romance. Second of all, Cosette was raised by a great dad and is possessed of self-confidence and Marius has never had a decent parental figure in his life ever and thinks girls laugh at him on the street. “This booby is madly in love with Cosette, but Cosette does not even know of his existence!” Every Luxembourg trip is now a spec-ops mission for Jean Dadjean. He’s drawing his battle maps, planning his tactics, gathering intel. Oh, Valjean, what were you going to do, have her live with you forever? Become like Gillenormand and his daughter? “Jean Valjean was hurt by this sadness, and harrowed by this gentleness.”

Cosette’s experiences are diverging from what Valjean is reasonably familiar with. I imagine this is a very common thing that any parent might experience with a teenaged child, they start becoming individuals outside your sphere of influence, you can no longer track their development of self. This feeling can only be exacerbated for Valjean and Cosette because they have a connection beyond blood, forged within some shared sense of hardship. And while Valjean feels he himself is past the point of recovery, Cosette is still growing and changing and needs exposure to experiences he doesn’t have and an understanding of a world he is a stranger to. “Jean Valjean had no experience of this misery, the only misery which is charming, and the only misery which he did not know.” Cosette needs friends, peers her age who feel the tribulations of adolescence with the same urgency she does. And Valjean needs someone who can tell him that this is all normal.

[drabbles-mc]

Tempting Offer

EZ Reyes x OFC (Aanya Reyes)

Request by @garbinge: Ok and 43 with whoever your heart desires as well cause I’m a sucker for a good ol true love trope (from This List)

Warnings: so much fluff

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: I’m still not out of my writing slump. Still got a lot going on. But Anj sent me this request literal months ago and it’s been living in my brain ever since. Plus, I haven’t updated Remind Me in a hot minute so I figured doing a fluffy little prequel/spinoff would be a nice change of pace for a story that is so heavy with angst haha. I have a future chapter planned that actually references what happens in this story, so I’m excited to be able to share the real context for it all with you guys. Hope you enjoy! xo

EZ Reyes/Remind Me Taglist: @ly--canthrope @noz4a2 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @appropriate-writers-name @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @kelpies-shed @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @mayans-sauce @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction @encounterthepast @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @kkim120 @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck @mrsstevenbuchananstark @berniesilvas @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @amorestevens @angelreyesisdaddy04​ @samcrobae​ @langiinspirations​ @bigcreatorwombatdreamer​ @lightblindingme​ 

She knew who was at the door before she’d even heard the knock. She laughed as she made her way through her apartment, trying to slide her earring into place as she did. Pausing in front of her door, she took a moment to take a deep breath and get herself mentally prepared. It wasn’t their first date, but she still had the jitters as though it was.

Undoing the chain on the apartment door, she pulled it open. EZ was standing on the other side, hands hooked onto his belt since he hadn’t worn his kutte this time. Without a second thought his eyes scanned her over, a smile immediately taking over his features the longer that he looked at her.

“You look beautiful,” he nodded.

She bit down on her lip for a moment, her face heating up at the compliment, “Thank you,” stepping back, she waved for him to come in, “You can come in, I just gotta grab my shoes and purse and I’ll be good to go.”

“Take your time,” he lingered close to the door, glancing around her apartment.

It was the first time he’d ever stepped inside. He’d picked her up and dropped her off the last few times they went out, but he never went past the threshold of her place. She didn’t necessarily offer, and he wasn’t going to push it if she wasn’t ready or comfortable. However, as he stood there and looked around her living room and into what he could see of the kitchen, it seemed exactly like the kind of place she would live. It also made him very nervous to ever have her over at his trailer. Her apartment felt so fresh, all warm colors and walls covered with bookshelves. The one big set of windows that she had, had a bench with a few plants on it that were coming along well for being in a small apartment.

“Alright,” she was pulling the back of her shoe over her heel as she half walked, half hopped towards him. Standing upright as she landed in front of him, she flashed him a smile, “I’m ready.”

“You sure?” he chuckled.

“Positive,” she motioned for him to open the door, both of them walking through before she turned to lock it behind them. As she followed him, tucking her keys into her purse, she asked, “So do I get to know where we’re going tonight? Or is it a big surprise?”

He smiled at her as they walked down the flight of stairs to the ground floor of her apartment building, “It’s not a big secret.”

“Are we taking the bike?”

He shook his head, “It’s within walking distance.”

“Ooo,” she smiled over at him, “now you’ve got my attention.”

As the two of them walked along the sidewalk, EZ listened with genuine interest as Aanya recounted her day to him. He reveled in her stories of new books that she’d gotten into, and strange customers that she’d encountered during her day. Although if EZ was being honest with himself, he would have sat there and listened to her read every page of the phone book and he still would’ve kept his interest. She had more love in her words than most people had in their entire bodies, and he was captivated.

He stopped outside the door to a small diner, smiling over at Aanya before pulling the door open for her, “Right this way.”

Her face lit up, “I haven’t been here yet!” she walked through the door and turned around to face him, “I always meant to come here and just never made the time.”

EZ nodded as the two of them walked and found a booth to sit in, “My pops is really good friends with the woman who owns the place—she’s been buying from him for years.”

“You know,” Aanya casually flipped through the menu, “I’ve been to your father’s shop plenty of times and I’ve never seen you there.”

The statement got him to look up from the menu, “You’ve been to the shop?”

She laughed, looking over at him, “Of course. Only butcher in town, Ezekiel.”

“He’s never mentioned that he sees you.”

“Something tells me your father isn’t one for gossip,” she laughed for a moment before she paused, “You talked to him about me?” her lips curled into a smile.

“Well,” he drummed his fingers on the tabletop as he bit back a shy smile, “yea. Of course.”

They’d long since finished their dinner, but the two of them were perfectly content to just sit at the table and talk. The waitress knew EZ well enough and she very casually brought over coffee for each of them when she saw how good of a time the two of them were having. It’d been a long time since she saw EZ bring anyone around, let along someone who had him smiling the way that he was.

“I just can’t believe,” Aanya laughed between sips of her coffee, “that I’ve already met your brother. I should’ve known! I should’ve known that was him.”

“Why would you have known?” EZ chuckled.

“Because he was at your father’s shop! And he had on, you know the,” she gestured vaguely to her shoulders and chest, “the vest.”

EZ smiled, “The kutte?”

“Yes!” she pointed at him and nodded, “The kutte.”

“I feel like maybe I should mention that not everyone in a Mayans kutte is a Reyes brother. Angel just so happens to be both.”

She chuckled, nodding, “I figured that much.”

“I think Pop would lose his mind if there were any more of us,” he smiled.

Aanya laughed, “I think Felipe is usually on the brink of losing his mind anyway.”

“Raising Angel will do that to you,” he replied without missing a beat, both of them laughing.

“I’m sure you weren’t a cakewalk either, Ezekiel.”

“Well what makes you say that?” he leaned back in the booth, feigning offense before giving in and laughing.

Shaking her head and taking a moment to finish her coffee, she replied, “Your very sweet and handsome smile doesn’t fool me, EZ. I’m sure you’re just as much of a troublemaker as your brother.”

“You think I’m handsome?” he smirked.

Laughing, she nodded, “Of course I do.”

The two of them walked back to Aanya’s apartment. Along the way she’d casually linked her arm with his, leaning against his side as they walked. EZ tried not to get too lost in the sensation of it, trying to focus on what she was saying to him. He was trying to focus but there was something so comfortable, so right, about the feeling of her leaning into him the way that she was.

They made their way up the stairs, and EZ leaned against the wall next to her door as he watched her slip the key into the lock. The smile on his face was practically a permanent feature whenever he was with her, and it had been a long time since someone made him feel that way.

“I had a really good time tonight, Ezekiel,” Aanya leaned against her doorframe with a smile.

He adored the way his name sounded coming from her. With a slight nod, he replied, “Me too.”

“I’ll give you a call tomorrow when I’m done with work?”

“Yea, yea that works,” he reached forward and gently slid his hand into hers, “Let me know if any of the new deliveries look any good.”

“I always think they look good,” she chuckled, “If you want a real critic’s opinion, you should come in and talk to Laura. It’s…it’s hard for me to find a book I don’t like.”

“If you want, I can bring you some pretty terrible books.”

Rolling her eyes, she laughed, “Tempting offer, but I’ll pass.”

“Alright, but you’re missing out.”

“I guess I’ll have to live the rest of my life knowing that,” she laughed, shaking her head. Looking up and meeting his gaze, her smile softened, “Thank you for tonight. Get home safe, okay?”

“Always do,” he smiled before lifting her hand up and pressing a light kiss to her knuckles, “Talk to you tomorrow.”

Standing up onto her toes, she placed a brief kiss on his cheek, “Goodnight, Ezekiel.”

“Goodnight,” he smiled as she walked through the door and closed it behind her. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself not to linger as he made his way back down the stairs, replaying the night over in his head with a smile.

The next morning, both EZ and Angel had shown up to the carnicería first thing to help Felipe with a large delivery. Angel had immediately gotten on his little brother’s case when he saw what a good mood he was in. EZ had always been the biggest morning person out of the three men, but even with that being true he still seemed peppier than usual. After a lot of questioning from Angel as they carried in one box after another, he caved and told them about his date from the night before.

Angel shook his head, wiping sweat from his brow, “No way. No way she’s real, bro. I just don’t buy it.”

“What do you mean you don’t buy it?” EZ laughed and shook his head, “She literally stops here all the time. She’s seen you here!” he gestured to the shop in its entirety.

“Really?” Angel seem perplexed, “She talk to me before?”

“I’m assuming not if you don’t remember.”

“Not everyone’s got a memory like yours, Boy Scout.”

“Nah, but you’d remember her.”

Angel rolled his eyes, mocking his brother, “You’d remember her. Jesus, EZ. Two dates with this girl and you’re already in love with her?”

“Four dates.”

“But who’s counting?” Angel smirked, “Look, I’m very happy for you and your very real girlfriend.”

EZ gave his brother a shove, but before it could descend into an all-out wrestling match, Felipe started ushering them both towards the door, “Go finish this somewhere that I don’t need to pay for everything you break.”

“Love you too, Pop,” Angel laughed as he let his father push them both out the door, the sign on it still saying that the shop was closed.

Despite the fact that they didn’t get to talk for their whole ride over to the clubhouse, as soon as they parked their bikes Angel was right back to giving EZ grief for the girlfriend he was convinced didn’t exist. EZ shook his head and laughed, taking the jokes and low-level verbal abuse in stride the way he always did. He knew that arguing past a certain point just made it all that much more fun for Angel.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, Angel had moved on from making fun of EZ and has started going in on Coco and Gilly. EZ couldn’t say that he was upset about his brother’s shift in attention. He did, however, find himself frequently checking his phone to see if she’d texted or called. It wasn’t often that she messaged him while she was working, but it didn’t hurt to check.

He was just about to slide the phone back into the pocket of his kutte when it started to vibrate. Glancing down at the screen, he smiled when he saw Aanya’s name lighting up the screen, “Hey.”

“Hey!” her voice was bright, happy, on the other end of the line, “I’m just getting ready to leave—they got someone else in to close up tonight.”

“Oh, nice. I’m, um, I’m still at the scrapyard,” his free hand gripped the edge of his kutte.

“That’s fine, I figured. I thought of you earlier, though, when I was going through the new shipment of books that came in.”

“Did you?” he scuffed the toe of his boot against the dirt.

“I did. There’s one in here that I think you’ll really like. Can I swing by and drop it off?”

“You don’t gotta drive all the way out here. I can swing by your place if you want.”

“It’s fine, really. Besides, I have all this extra time on my hands now,” she laughed.

“Alright,” he didn’t have it in him to tell her no, “If you don’t see me, the guy Chucky who works the front office can come and get me.”

“Perfect. Alright, I’ll see you in a little bit.”

He knew that telling Angel that she was coming was only going to make the situation worse. If there was no time for him to prepare comments beforehand, there was the possibility that EZ could just do a normal introduction. It helped that everyone was relatively busy with club business.

EZ was walking back down the steps of the clubhouse, about to head towards the front office when he saw Aanya walking next to Chucky. The two of them were talking and EZ couldn’t help but to take on her contagious smile. He couldn’t hear what the two of them were saying but Aanya looked thoroughly amused, and knowing Chucky he had to assume it was something good. When she locked eyes with him across the yard, EZ could see her thanking Chucky before turning and heading in his direction. EZ immediately spotted the book hanging from her hand as she walked up to him.

“He seems so fun,” she nodded back over her shoulder in Chucky’s direction.

“Yea,” EZ laughed, “he’s somethin’ alright.”

EZ was too busy looking at the woman in front of him to see that Angel had seen her come onto the yard, watching intently as she walked over to his brother. Angel saw as the woman laughed at something his brother said, and for a second he really couldn’t believe that EZ had been being honest with them this whole time. Angel really thought that his little brother had just been exaggerating to get him and the rest of the club off his back.

“Looks like you’ve been working hard,” Aanya smiled as she reached up, cupping one side of his face in her hand as she thumbed a streak of dirt off his cheek with her thumb.

He felt like his skin was on fire at the contact, but he tried not to let it show, “Just trying to stay busy.”

“That makes two of us,” she laughed, “I hope you don’t mind me just popping up like this. I don’t want to intrude on everything you’ve got here.”

“You’re not intruding. If anything, you’re a very welcome distraction,” he chuckled.

“At least I’m welcome,” she smiled.

“Always,” he couldn’t stop looking at her.

The two of them stood there for a few moments before Aanya cleared her throat, remembering why she’d shown up at the scrapyard in the first place. She held the book close to her chest for a moment before handing it over to EZ.

“Just came in today, so I haven’t read it. But I read the first chapter or so while it was slow this afternoon and it seemed like something you’d enjoy.”

“I’ll be sure to write up a full report when I’m done with it,” he smiled.

“Lucky for you, I grade papers as generously as I review books,” she laughed, resting her hand against his chest. Her fingertips traced along the stitching of the leather covering his torso. Looking at his prospect patch for a moment, she looked back up at him, “Kutte.”

He laughed, nodding, “You got it.”

“It’s my one new piece of information for the week.”

“That and all the first chapters of books you’re going to be reading for the rest of the week,” he gave her a knowing look.

“Like you wouldn’t do the same thing if you worked there,” she lightly patted his chest.

“Maybe,” he rested the hand that wasn’t holding the book over hers, completely enveloping it.

“I don’t know how late you need to be here tonight, but if you want to come over later, you can.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprised by the invitation, “Yea?”

She nodded, “Yea. If you have plans with your brother or something I totally understand. Just thought I’d mention it.”

“I’ll be there,” he didn’t have plans, but even if he did he would’ve dropped everything for her, “I’ll give you a call when I leave here in case you need anything.”

“Sounds good!” she felt her heart beating a little faster in her chest, “Alright. I’ll let you get back to work. I’ll see you tonight?”

He nodded, “See you tonight.”

He was expecting her to flash him a smile and a wink before turning and walking away. But, much to his surprise, she gently cupped both sides of his face in her hands and pulled him down into a kiss. It took him a moment to really register what was going on, but once he did, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. He could feel the way she smiled into their kiss and in that moment, he realized that there was nothing else in the world that he’d rather do. He’d drop damn near any and everything to be able to kiss her like that all the time.

She pulled away, hands still resting on the sides of his face. She smiled as she took in the slightly dazed look on his face. Tracing her thumbs along his cheeks, she gave him a soft peck on the lips, “Bye,” she let out a quiet laugh.

It was hard to get himself to force out the one-syllable word as he stared at her. He’d never been good at taking things slow, and as he stood there looking at her, seeing the way that she was practically glowing, he knew that he was very quickly falling in love with her. He wished he knew how to articulate the way that she made him feel, but instead he settled for getting his thoughts enough to say goodbye to her until he saw her again later.

He’d offered to walk her back to her car but she waved him off, insisting that she was fine and if nothing else Chucky would gladly escort her, which EZ knew was true. He watched her as she sauntered back towards her car and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. His fingers curled tighter around the book in his hands, pressing it against his chest.

The feeling of his phone vibrating in his pocket snapped him out of his daze. He reached into his kutte and pulled it out, sighing when he saw that Angel had sent a picture to the group chat with all the guys. Not knowing what to expect, he opened the message and saw a picture of himself and Aanya, one hand on his cheek while the other held the book. The next message was a text from Angel, one that made EZ shake his head, “Guess boy scout wasn’t lying after all. She’s real”

Before EZ could try to respond and come to his own defense, Gilly sent a message to the chat, “Still don’t buy it. I wasn’t there. Didn’t happen”

Knowing that it was just going to descend further into chaos, EZ decided he might as well play into it, “Alright. Guess you won’t care if I leave early to go and see my not real girlfriend then. See you guys tomorrow”

Angel called out to him from across the yard when he read the message, “Hey, hey. I don’t think I said all that!” Angel walked over to his brother, laughing the entire time, “Nah, nice to see she’s a real person.”

“Yea, that’s one of my favorite things about her,” EZ chuckled and shook his head, tucking the new book close to his chest.

[teletraan-meets-jarvis]

What I Want - Part 2

AO3 Link

Chapter Title: What I Need

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!Jedi Reader

Summary: Following the awkwardness of the night before, you go to an old friend to try and process your feelings for Crosshair.

Click here for Part 1

Warnings: 18+, a bit more frisky business but not full on so rated 18 just to be safe. Swearing.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Notes: You ask, you get!! Thanks so much for all the support and love for part 1 ❤️. As a thank you, I bring you part 2, I hope you enjoy! If this one takes off a bit as well, I do have an idea for a little bonus chapter around the Bad Batches' reaction. As always, feedback/comments are massively appreciated along with reblogs. Fic is below the cut off, thanks for reading!!

Taglist: @aerynwrites @shannon-lynn-21 @saltywintersoldat @tired-night-owl @wille-zarr

A comm alarm beeped softly, slowly pulling you out your slumber. Giving the device a sleepy glare, you shut it off and huffed back onto your bunk. Wrecker’s snores were echoing off the small ship barracks, you rolled your eyes at his sleeping form across the room as you swung your legs over the side of your top bunk. Below you, Tech slept soundly, he managed to fall asleep with his goggles on which were now sitting wonky on his relaxed face. He also had a datapad clutched to his chest, almost like a teddy bear, which made you chuckle to yourself.

You’d barely slept after getting back from the mission but being a General stopping over on Coruscant meant rest would be a pipe dream. Your alarm was set to get you out of bed and ready for the first of what you were sure would be a hundred and ten briefings today. You were always happy to shoulder the politics for the team, removing that burden from Hunter so they could keep to themselves. But today, you could really do without it.

You looked over at Hunter and Crosshair’s bunks, the former sleeping up top with an arm over his eyes. Probably to block out the few small coloured lights on the ship that shone from critical systems, preventing the room from being truly pitch black. You didn’t envy Hunter’s enhanced senses, they seemed to cause him quite a bit of discomfort when they weren’t on missions. You should probably pick him up an eye mask one of these days.

Below him, Crosshair slept with his back to the open room. One of the few times you ever saw his body relaxed was when he slept. You cringed as you remembered yesterday’s awkwardness with the sniper and mentally cursed at yourself for causing, what was, an easily avoidable situation.

Shaking your head you jumped silently off of your bunk, mindful to not wake any of the batch. You gently removed Tech’s goggles, placing them in their usual spot before moving over to grab some fresh robes and head for the fresher. Today was going to be a real drag.

—————————————————

“Hey! Look what the Lothcat dragged in” someone called after you as you trudged up the steps to the GAR Headquarters. You turned around to see none other than Anakin Skywalker jogging up behind you.

“Nice to see you too Skyguy” he chuckled at the nickname as he threw an arm around your shoulders.

You fell into companionable chatter as you made your way to your first meeting, the dark halls of the military headquarters looking indistinguishable as you attempted to find the correct room. Members of the Coruscant Guard patrolled the halls, nodding politely to you both as you strolled past.

Eventually you found the room where Mace, Plo and Luminara were waiting, along with some clone and human high command. You stood outside the door for a moment, readying yourself to seal your fate of being talked at for a solid eight standard hours.

Eventually you caved, mostly as you were on the verge of being late if you debated standing outside any longer. Begrudgingly, you sat through briefing after briefing. All the voices and different rooms blending into one grey blur as you tried to take in what information you could, but your tired and stressed mind was having none of it.

While it was nice to catch up with some of the other Jedi, you always felt a bit out of place among the perfect members of the council. More so now than ever.

You ended up wandering back to the temple with Anakin where you both retired to his room and you flopped down onto his simple bed with a whine.

“Okay, what’s going on? You’ve been off all day” Anakin was the closest thing you had to a brother, you trained as Padawans together and due to your similar age you became fast friends. You knew about his marriage to Padme and decided that if you could offload your dilemma on anyone, it’d be him.

“I fucked up” you groaned out from behind your hands.

“What’d you do?” Anakin replied in a playful tone.

“I might’ve got a bit hot and heavy with one of the clones in my squad, led him on and then cut it off” Anakin raised an eyebrow at your confession. “And now he’s pissed at me”

“Why?” You weren’t entirely sure which part of that entire thing he was questioning.

“Because I started the whole thing, I wanted it. Then all of a sudden I did that whole guilty Jedi, must follow every word of the order thing, gave him some pathetic look which said really sorry I can’t have attachments mate, hope you understand. He called me out on it before I could even utter the banthashit excuse and then he stomped off and hasn’t spoken to me since.”

“In his defence, seems like he was probably wound a little tight” Anakin replied with a chuckle which you just groaned at.

“He has every right to be pissed. Hells, I would be if the roles were reversed. Whats with this whole self-righteous act us Jedi have going on?”

“Look, it’s hard being a Jedi at the best of times. It takes an inhumane amount of self-control, which is why its not a path for the weak. But being a Jedi while at war… it’s a lot. You’re emotions are running high, you’re forming bonds with soldiers on the battlefield that you shouldn’t be, but none of us can help it because it’s uncharted territory. Maker knows I’d hunt down anyone who hurt Obi-Wan or my Captain. Yes, It’s not the Jedi way, but neither is fighting a grand-scale war.” Anakin’s eyes were alive with emotion as he spoke, be he quickly caught himself and then it was gone.

“My point is, don’t beat yourself up so much. No one is getting kicked out the order or in his case reconditioned if that’s what you’re worried about. Figure out what it is you want, and then just be discreet about it” you looked at Anakin like he’d grown two heads, he just winked at your confused stare.

“Okay let’s keep it simple. Are you attracted to him?” You thought back to the night before and firmly nodded in response.

“Do you like him as a person?” You pondered his question.

“Well, it’s Cross. I wasn’t sure if he even liked me for a long time. He’s closed off, anti-social, but he’s also a good guy, cares about his brothers, has saved my ass multiple times, and he is kinda funny in his own, snide way” you rattled off with fondness in your words.

“Well then I suggest you go and talk to him.” Anakin replied, giving you a knowing look when he spotted the small smile on your lips as you spoke about the sniper.

You took a deep breath, glad to have finally gotten that off your chest and feeling content that you now knew what to do next. “Thanks, Ani”

“Ugh please don’t call me that” he moaned back, apparently only Padme was allowed to get away with that one.

————————————————

Your walk back to the Marauder felt like it dragged on and on. Your brain ran over a thousand scenarios of what to say, how he’d react and you were about to short circuit. There was so much risk, so much possibility, that you did your best to shut your mind off and let yourself handle it in the moment. These things never went as planned anyway, it was best not to guess.

The large door to the ship hissed open, your boots clanking on the metal surface as you cautiously walked into your home. It didn’t take you long to find Crosshair, he was sat in the main hull methodically cleaning his hand blaster. Everyone else must’ve been asleep. He was just in his blacks, the material hugging him in the most wonderful way, it’s like whoever designed those things was trying to trip you up. The contours of his arm muscles flexing as he worked, his strong chest looked practically chiselled at the heart of his lean frame. You had to force yourself to calm down a little bit.

“Uh, hey” you greeted awkwardly. “Mind if I join you?”

You took his silence as a well he’s not saying no. He didn’t spare you a glance as you walked in and took a seat opposite him. As a General in the GAR, you rarely got nervous. War, as a concept, was simple. You knew your purpose, your objective, you had a job to get done and you’d do it. The risks never stopped you, rather they fuelled you. Probably why you’re such a good fit for the bad batch.

But this right now, personal feelings, not knowing where you stand with someone you care about. Because if you were honest, you really did care about Crosshair, the same as you did the rest of the team. You’d only been with the squad just under a year but you’d gladly lay down your life for any of them in a heartbeat. If you could at least get back to where you were before the other night, you’d be over the moon.

You weren’t used to being so nervous, you let your hands fiddle with you dark Jedi robes as you readied yourself to speak again.

“Look, I’m not here to throw some crap about being a Jedi at you, I promise. And I’m sorry for trying it before” he still didn’t look at you, finding his blaster much more interesting. But you could tell he was listening, you had his attention. Might as well keep babbling.

“In terms of an explanation for what happened yesterday, well I guess I panicked.” You sighed as you tried to find the next words “The way you made me feel that night, I… I’ve never felt like that before and everything i’d been taught over the years screamed at me that what I was doing was dangerous and wrong. I now realise that I’m just an idiot. I make my own decisions and I… uh -well, I stick by that one, starting something that is.” Still nothing.

“I know this is probably a long shot. But in the interest of being transparent” you rambled “uh… if you want to go down that road again, I’m up for seeing what happens, can be as casual as we like. I promise I won’t freak out on you again.” You chuckled and thought you almost spotted a slight pull in the corner of Crosshair’s lips “But if you want to go back to how we were before, I’d also really like that.” You watched him for a while as he gave no acknowledgement of your words, his cleaning finished as he now gave the weapon a once over in his hands. Having said everything you needed, you got up from your seat, looking away from him.

“Well, if I can do anything else, let me know” you turned on your heel to leave, feeling slightly defeated but glad you’d at least made the first step.

“I could think of a few things” he finally spoke as he leaned back into his seat and continued to stare at his blaster, still not meeting your gaze.

Well that caught your attention, you turned back around to face him as he carried on ignoring you. While his tone was unbothered as he spoke, you knew him just enough to know his words held a meaning. He was playing with you, back to his usual teasing and you could’ve laughed at the relief that washed over you. This you could work with. A cheeky idea popped into your head and you’d decided to run with it.

“Oh really?” Throwing caution to the wind, you strode over to the sniper slowly. His gaze finally meeting yours after all this time, watching you as you got closer and closer. Practically drawing you in with his amber eyes. You pushed him back by his chest, creating enough room so you could straddle his lap. “Care to elaborate?”

He huffed out a short laugh at your words, his face overall unbothered but his eyes, they were burning into you. “You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you’ll figure it out”.

You hummed in response, deciding to kick things up a notch you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing your faces just breaths apart. “Something like this?” You asked, pausing for another second before bringing your lips to his in a surprisingly soft and gentle kiss. You felt his hands come up to rest on your back, pulling you closer as you continued your slow dance. This was so different from the other night, where before there was desperation and lust, now there was something more… tender, passionate. You were quite glad you weren’t standing as the way he moved against you would’ve definitely made your knees weak.

Dragging yourself away from his lips, you searched his face. His mouth pulled into a barely there smirk “That’s a start.”

“Who said I was finished?” And just like that, the last few strands of tension between you both snapped and you relaxed in his arms. You fisted your hands into the front of his blacks and pulled him back to you, his tongue slipped between your lips, curious and demanding. He was everywhere again, filling your nose with the scent of the standard cheap GAR soap but mixed with something earthy, something so distinctly Crosshair and you couldn’t get enough.

You could tell why the Jedi order frowned upon such activities, kissing Crosshair was intoxicating. You couldn’t think of anything else other than the handsome clone in front of you and just how much you wanted him in that moment.

His hands wandered lower and lower down you back until they rested comfortably on your backside, pulling you further up his lap. Feeling mischievous, you started trailing kisses along his jaw. Setting a teasing, languid pace as you mapped out the spots that made him squirm. Crosshair was never a man of many words, so you made it your mission to see just how vocal you could make him.

As your lips met his pulse point, he gave a loud exhale and you smirked in victory against his skin as you continued the onslaught on his senses. You definitely seemed to be doing something right as his hands found themselves in your hair, clutching slightly and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped you. Even while trying to gain the upper hand in the situation, he always had some control over you. It was maddening in the best way, setting your veins alight with desire.

Determined to get another victory you traced your tongue against the base of the side of his neck and trailed it all the way up to the bottom of his ear, which you teasingly took into your mouth, teeth grazing the soft skin. A strangled moan escaped the clone and that was the moment where you knew you were hopelessly and utterly gone. Your mind filled with nothing other than wanting to be closer to Crosshair.

“Not very Jedi of you” he commented, slightly breathless when you finally stopped teasing him and came back up to meet his eyes. Looking down at where your bodies were pressed against one another, you chuckled.

“What exactly about this situation led you to believe I was ever a model Jedi?” You smirked, though it was only visible for a second before his mouth was back on yours, devouring you as his hands greedily roamed your body.

You continued making out like teenagers for most of the evening, taking the time to explore each other, enjoying the closeness. Contentment settled over your body, almost as if this was were you were meant to be. If Crosshair’s arms were where you belonged, well, you could think of worse places to be.

Back to Part 1

Back to Masterlist

[sweetberrysmooch]

HC: And There Was Only One Bed (Affectionate) [pt. 2]

(Zzzzzzz…..)

(Alright, second part done :V Not much to say here for now, but I hope you’re excited for the upcoming part to come out next ^^ And my ask box is always open, so feel free to drop in and chat any time! I’ll be seeing you :D)

Basic sleeping hcs with ya boys, and for a part two, outside home life? You’ll see what I mean lol 

Characters: Quackity, George, Badboyhalo.

Warnings: Nightmares in Quackity’s part, but besides that we’re clean <3

Song Recommendation: Metamodernity- Vansire

Up Next- Sapnap, Philza, Fundy, Schlatt. 

Enjoy your day guys! I do hope it be rockin :]

Quackity:

Quackity is one floppy motherfucker. You fall asleep with him spooning you, head nestled between your shoulder blades, hands holding yours in front of your middle, legs entangled, the whole shi-bang, but wake up with him starfishing half on the mattress at a weird angle that makes his neck sore for the rest of the day.

Each day is a new position for you to add to your ammunition of teasing against him, but he takes it in stride. He totally doesn’t wake you up halfway through the night by flinging himself over your middle, ‘asleep’ and snoring like a freight train. When you give up halfway through trying to stop him breathing and just fall asleep lying on his chest, he turns to mush and gets distracted playing with your hair. You don’t know why he seems so exhausted the next morning, and he only giggles dreamily at you when you ask.

While he’ll be the big spoon for as long as you want him to, there’s a special soft place in his heart for being the little spoon. Hold him, please. Pull him to your chest and gently run your fingers through his hair, rub his back and kiss every inch of his face until he’s down for the count. The easiest way to make him feel better after a bad day or an argument is to let him know you want him and love him. Just holding him at night guarantees that he’ll bring you a present the next day (like the inner stardew valley house husband he sometimes longs to be lmao).

It’s a 50/50 chance of waking up with Quackity or after him, seeing as he prefers to get up early to enjoy the quiet mornings before the rest of the smp wakes up. He gets ready, makes the both of you coffee (or tea, something to help wake you up), and watches the sky change color while he waits for you to come sit with him in the kitchen. The two of you try your best to assure a moment together before you go about your separate ways, sitting together and talking about what you have planned or what you might have for dinner later. It’s his favorite part of the day, aside from coming back home to your awaiting arms.

Another citrus-y smelling fellow. More orange than lemon, he bathes in the morning after he wakes up. You typically wake up right after he gets finished washing up, walking into the bathroom to hear him quietly humming while drying off his hair and wings. He’ll give you a small guilty grin and a good smooch on your forehead as an apology.

Another poor fellow with nightmares;; They’re a lot less frequent than they used to be now that you’ve gotten together (having someone to talk to and work through each others issues does WONDERS apparently) but when they hit, they hit him hard. You wake up from him twisting and turning right before he wakes up in tears. He doesn’t like to be touched afterwards, drawn in on himself and facing away from you, hiding his crying. When you leave to get him a glass of water and come back, he’s more grounded, crawling into your arms and accepting the drink gratefully. With his forehead pressed to your throat, taking small sips from his cup, he’ll tell you what his dream was about. Sometimes it’s Technoblade, sometimes Dream, mostly Schlatt though. His ex lingers on his mind more than he likes to admit, a deep sense of abandonment showing through his nightmares. Quackity struggles with sleeping for a few days after, afraid of what he might see when he closes his eyes again.

(You’ve fallen back asleep by now, hand paused in its ministrations and resting snugly in his hair. Things are warm and quiet and soft, and he feels safe again. 

The nightmare still hovers fuzzily in the back of his mind, but for now he can ignore it, focusing on your slow breathing as it lulls him back to sleep. 

His last thought before finally letting himself rest is how much he loves you, giving you one last squeeze in his tight embrace before relaxing into a much more stable slumber. ‘Gracias por todo mi amor.’)

George:

Impeccable skill of just falling asleep wherever and whenever. Before the two of you got close and started sharing a bed together, he really left his sleep schedule up to fate. He’d find a comfy spot and crash there for a few hours till he was awoken and would just repeat that a few hours later. Now that he has you, he makes more of an effort to stay awake during the day so he can sleep through the night next to your side. It more or less works, but occasionally he’ll have slept during the day and he wakes up in the middle of the night. As “punishment”, he sentences himself to waiting it out instead of getting up to do something because he truly wants to keep going to bed with you.

Not big on contact, likes having his space when he’s sleeping. Cuddling is nice every once in a while, but he prefers being able to breathe a little bit when falling asleep. He does, however, actively make the choice to hold your hand while he slips into slumberville. His grip isn’t too strong, nor is it very light, but a gentle mix between the two to try and remind you how much he loves you. You’ll wake up before him and his hand will still be holding yours, pulled to his chin as he sleeps. His breath fans your knuckles slowly, face eased of any stress, absolutely content.

George bathes…… probably. I’m just kidding, he fluctuates between bathing at night or in the morning because he just goes through phases of forgetting to when the time comes. His little mushroom home doesn’t come with a bathroom, seeing as its wholly empty (please if anyone has housing information on George or like. Any character at all please inform me please i beg-), so he’s limited to getting clean at a friend’s or your house. Typically yours. He keeps all of his valuables at your place once you start letting him sleep over there, tucking his clothes into your closet or in your dresser when he thinks you aren’t looking, leaving a toothbrush and his soap in your bathroom, hanging his armor up on an empty armor stand you have tucked away, all due to his inability to straight out ask if he can live with you.

It’s not like he doesn’t want to live with you, he practically does anyways, but there’s something in him that worries that you won’t like him if you’re forced to live with him permanently. He knows it can become… a bit much when you have to be around someone 24/7, but doesn’t realize that you pretty much already are around each other 24/7 lmao.

It takes a while but eventually he settles down and over dinner suggest that maybe you two should take it to the next level. His face is flushed pink and he keeps switching which leg he has crossed, but he takes your hand and quietly asks if he could start living with you. It’s a surprisingly sweet moment, even with your confusion (thinking you already DID live together), and of course you say yes.

He looks so relieved when you accept, and is kinda like, “I know this will be a difficult process but I’m very excited to become closer with you.” and then nothing changes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(It’s on the walk home when George finally processes that he now lives with you. It feels heavy on his heart, a mix of nervousness and excitement that makes him swallow hard and tighten his fingers around yours. 

This isn’t the first time he’s spent the night at your place, nor is it the first time he’s crawled into bed with you and slept next to just because you let him, but it is his first night actually living with you. The moment feels brand new, as if it’s his first time visiting your house all over again. 

He begins to wonder if maybe this was a mistake, maybe he’s moved too fast and maybe your regretting letting him live with you already and- He takes a hurried look at your face. You look… unbothered. Happy, even. 

There’s this half hidden smile on your face that soothes his anxieties, drawing out his own fragile smile. He can’t wait to live with you.)

Bad:

Mmmmm, big man warm. A natural heat machine, no need for lots of blankets or heavier pajamas, Bad will take care of all your cold problems. Every night after you finish your shared nightly routine, you curl up in his arms, immediately becoming over come with his toasty embrace. It like when you get clothes out of the drier and just hug them to your chest, the warm, clean, smell good experience that Bad also delivers.

He’s got a pretty ingrained nightly schedule that he sticks to, and he always invites you to join him after you finish up dinner. It starts by cleaning up the house a little, washing the dishes, setting aside clothes for the next day, taking a quick bath, brushing his teeth, reading a few chapters from a new book he’s picked up, and then settling down to go to bed. He won’t push you to do it with him, but he does try to incorporate you into his routine when he can. Usually it’s just by doing something small, like reading together or massaging your shoulders, but sometimes he’ll ask you to join him when he bathes.

Bad bathes pretty often, always at night, and using a nice smelling soap that he makes himself. Like what was said above, he’ll sometimes ask you to join him when bathing. It’s not ever for any naughty means, but because he sees bathing as a very intimate and vulnerable activity for you to share. He won’t push it, understanding that it can be overwhelming to be so open, but if you do choose to join him, he’s so gentle with you. His hands are worked and calloused, but they’re soft when they run soap through your hair, his nails lightly scratching your scalp and running down the back of your neck. He practically purrs when you return the favor, giggling as your hands brush sensitive spots around his sides. Afterwards he becomes so cuddly and attached to your side, you fall asleep with him curled up on YOUR chest, trapped under him.

That being said, most nights he takes to being the big spoon. It’s more for convenience sake, seeing as he’s a good few feet taller than you are, but he also can appreciate being held and loved on after harsher days. He’s a lot like a weighted blanket, a nice heavy weight that keeps you warm and makes you feel loved <3 love this guy.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it), you sometimes have.... Visitors. Bad is a hub for the homeless, bored, and nutty members of the smp. They flock to him like birds to the elderly, which means you have “children” to take care of for a day or two at a time :/. Dream and George aren’t regulars, per say, but Bad has a room set aside for either of them when they come over. To their credit, they do try to be polite when they come over, and will help in cooking dinner or cleaning up. Skeppy, however, is unlike Dream or George, in that he’s more of a third partner in your and Bad’s relationship.

Skeppy up and appears at random, no announcement, and makes himself comfortable any place where Bad is. Be it at your home or his, Skeppy eats your food, lounges on your furniture, hell, he even sleeps with you and Bad at night. You two share Bad’s chest whenever Skeppy is over. It’s so jarring at first, having to deal with having another boyfriend (because Skeppy will consider you to be apart of the thrupple after introductions), but he usually only stays for like 3 days before leaving to do whatever else he has planned. You don’t know if you should be worried or upset or what, but after a while it becomes kinda nice to have him around.

All in all Bad is great to sleep with <3

(Bad blows the lantern out on his bedside counter, shuffling under the cover beside you once the room was fully dark. You slung an arm over his chest instinctively, cuddling up into his side when his arm pulled up around your back and held you even closer. 

You shivered pleasantly when he gently pressed a kiss into your hair, becoming sleepier and sleepier with each rise and fall of his wide chest. He sighs quietly and squeezes you, murmuring softly to you as you both fell asleep. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep well.”)

Have a good evening! Do something nice for yourself tonight. You deserve it.

[princecharmingmendes]

Heart by Heart | Chapter X | Raul Mendes

                                               *secret agent AU*

Y/N and Raul have been friends ever since they could remember. And falling in love with your best friend can be pretty tricky and messy 99% of the times, add that to the fact they're constantly risking their lives side by side on the field since they're both secret agents, and the best team that's ever existed. Perfect recipe for disaster.

Hi, this chapter is finally here, it's a bit shorter, but I didn't want to keep you guys waiting for that long anymore and on the cliffhanger, and this was also important for the story development. Anyway, this is the tenth chapter of this series, you can find the first ones here. Please read the warnings on this one, if you don’t feel comfortable with the contents listed on the “warnings” section, please read something else, there are a lot of other works on my masterlist and on the “fic rec” hashtag on my blog. Please give me some feedback and I hope you guys like. Happy Reading! 

                                                previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter

*Word Count: 2K+

*Warnings: cursing, violence towards the reader, blood, kidnapping, hostage situation, angst.

Please don’t read it if any of this subjects make you uncomfortable, feel free to check my masterlist for other writings.

*Posted: September 16th, 2021.

                                                  -*-

Raul was a mess as soon as he was able to get into an empty room. 

He allowed himself to finally let the severity of the situation hit him. He had no idea where Y/N and Tom were, if they were alright or what could Geonoff could possibly win with this. He certainly would’ve tried blackmailing them to get something in return of the two agents he had in his hands. 

He’s been pacing back and forth in the tiny room as he tried to remain calm enough to keep his rationality so he could still be helpful. Raul just wanted to punch his way into that base and get the kid and his girl back, but he knew that was completely stupid, even for him. He could practically see the frown on Y/N’s face if she ever heard his brilliant idea, and the vision alone was almost enough to bring him to tears. Instead he shook his head, knowing that letting his feelings take control would only be a waste of time in this situation, and that’s something he learned a long time ago when he first started working with his best friend. 

She was a really rational, and maybe even a bit cold on the field. Always with a sharp remark on the tip of her tongue and a thousand of extra plans in case something failed, she could easily slip into the role of the Professor in Money Heist. Constantly analyzing and thinking. And while she was clearly the brain of their duo, Raul was clearly the heart, not thinking twice before jumping head first to save someone or get and intel. And that’s why they worked so well, he pushed her to be more spontaneous while she kept him in his place (and alive) most of the time. 

He needed her more than ever right now. 

The sound of hushed whispers and two pairs of shoes approaching him, made Raul sharply move in the direction of the door, still on edge, and waiting for it to reveal his visitors. As soon as the handle turned, he was met with his triplet and Celine wearing the same saddened and worried expressions. He might’ve come down to help with the investigation as fast as he learned about his best friend. 

Peter sighed taking in the sight of his brother. Raul looked like a lost puppy in distress, eyes on his face but his mind was clearly somewhere else, shoulders sagged and curls a mess from the constant nervous tugging habit he had. One look was enough for him to know he was carrying all the guilt and having no clue how to fix it. It’s the same look he gave his younger self when he accidentally broke his brand knew camera. 

“We’re going to find them” was the first thing he said and Raul nodded, looking unconvinced “It’s not your fault” he then added and at that, his gaze finally seemed to snap into place as he stared his brother dead in the eye. 

“Whose fault is it then?” his voice sounded a lot smaller and less threatening than he pictured. 

“Geonoff’s” Celine mumbled “but not yours, you did what was best, what was right”

Raul shook his head in response, mumbling a quiet ‘yeah, right’ under his breath, but Celine was quick to take three steps closing the distance between them and placing both hands on his shoulders. 

“Cut this shit right now” she snapped, catching both him and Peter by surprise “you and I both know I’m not your biggest fan and never truly got what everyone else saw in you, but this past months changed my perspective of things and you’re actually a decent person, a great friend and an amazing agent, and you did the right thing” she said squeezing his shoulder for great measure “and you and I both know Y/N would’ve wanted you to do the same thing, she’d be proud of you”

Raul nodded slowly and Celine let him go at that, as he was still processing her words. Peter finally reached his brother, placing his hand on his shoulder as he turned to face him “I know you’re going through a lot right now, but we need you to help us find her, we need you to hold on a bit and try to think of the places they could possibly take her, everything you heard  or saw on the past month is useful”

He nodded again “yeah, okay, I can do that”

“Good, come with me then” Peter said patting his brother’s back “she’ll come back to us, you and I know her enough to know she’s probably making their life a living hell”

Raul snorted a little laugh, that didn’t quite reach his eyes and nodded along, as they dragged him back into the main room. He needed to do what Y/N would in his place, shut his feelings off and analyze every every they took.

                                                 -*-

Y/N starts slowing coming back into her senses, feeling her muscles burning, her arms stiff and head hurting, the dark place she was situated doing little to help her regain her memories. She tried looking around to see if she could find something useful to recognize the place, only noticing a slim frame still unconscious close to her. The person had its back to her, but from their clothes and body type, she was able to recognize them as Tommy.

Tommy who was still breathing and almost at arms reach.

That was a good sign, or as good as it could be in this situation. But he was there, breathing and no signs of big blood loss around them, so no external wounds that needed to be taken care of urgently. She tried to reach for him, but the heavy chains attaching her wrists to the cobblestone floor kept her in place.

She tried locating their belongings, or anything that could help them get out of there, but it was all missing. Raul was also nowhere in sight, which probably meant he wasn’t there and probably the info was delivered safely. At least that’s what she hopped with no signs of him around them. 

There? Where the hell was there?

That’s when it finally clicked to her, she had no idea where they were or how long was she out. They could be across the ocean as far as she was concerned. She had to get them out of there. But before she could start planning their way out with absolutely nothing and Tommy still out, she heard the grating of the old and rusty hinges coming from the only way in and out of that room, a heavy iron door. 

Coming from the source of noise that snatched her attention was the man responsible for all of this. Geonoff Reyes himself. Wearing a button up shirt, with the sleeves rolled back, and a pair of dress pants, and a smug look on his face. He took lazy long strides getting close to her, crouching down in front of her. 

Geonoff smirked at her “You know, it’s pretty hard to fool me and you almost got away with it, if it weren’t for your stupid boss you’d be home by now”

Y/N just blinked at him, a completely neutral facial expression on as she stared up at him, making him tsk.

“By the way, how is your little boyfriend? Does he know this relationship is just an act or you manipulate him as well?” he asked and she didn’t even flinch at his statement, noticing that her silence was doing more at getting him upset than clapping back “it must be sad, being such a pathetic agent and letting his little girl and friend get caught as he fled, and in the end discovering this was one sided”

Her gaze shifted quickly to Tommy and then back to Geonoff’s face, that was too close to hers for her taste “don’t worry, he’ll live for now, need him to get you to cooperate” and Y/N felt a little lighter knowing that, taking all the self control she had to not let that show on her face “you know they’ll never find you, right? Thought about sending a little photo as a gift for them, but might do it whenever we move to our next location, better lighting and stuff”

“What do you want?” her voice was hoarse, but she was able to keep her tone steady enough to not seem frightened.

“Oh, sugar, missed that sweet voice of yours, it matches your pretty face, just wish I could see that beautiful smile again, but we’ll get to that” he said patting her cheek with his long fingers, making her insides turn in disgust and she had to swallow the sudden wave of nausea down “I want something simple, just know all the info you’ve been feeding your precious little team for the past weeks, you’re smart enough knowing I wouldn’t mind hurting you to get what I want”

Y/N only stared back at him watching his brow twitch in annoyance “don’t want to hurt your pretty face, so cooperate with me and I might even let you go safely”

But her silent response seemed to be enough for him to loose it, because he took a deep breath before slapping his hand across her face for the first time. The pure shock of the action almost made her react, but she held her face up as she kept staring at him, her face burning but she wouldn’t give him the little taste of a small victory at breaking her neutral mask of indifference. 

“This could be so easy” he mumbled slapping the other side a little harder “you didn’t have to do this, you could be free by now” the third one was stronger than she was expecting, making her face turn with the pure force of it, the loud sound coming from the aggression echoing on the empty room and down the large corridor, the echo making her realize there wasn’t much down where they were, mostly just blank empty walls without doors to divide the sound. 

“What is it? Anything you’d like to say?” he asked grabbing her chin and yanking her face to look up at him, but her mouth remained closed “well, your choice”

After a few consecutive hits, one being so strong making her face collide with the wall when it turned, and she felt the sticky liquid running down her face. Her skin probably breaking with the brisk contact with the stone wall, cutting her cheek in the process. The seemed to please him, since he let out a loud boisterous laugh, making her lean her head so he could see it better mumbling a quiet “vicious bitch” under his breath “stop fighting back” before going back to it. 

After a couple more minutes, her right cheek numb already, Geonoff said grabbing her face roughly in his hands, forcing her to look up at him “Come on, sugar, you’re really stressing me out here”

“I’m truly sorry you had to kidnap and keep two agents hostage to try and prove you’re better than your sister” she said blinking at him monotonously and that seemed to hit a nerve, because Geonoff squeezed her face harder in his palms before pushing her head against the wall. 

Y/N felt her limbs giving out as her vision got blurry, her vision going dark before she felt her body leaning to her side and hitting the floor with a dull thud. The sound of shoes hitting against the rocks and the door being shut closed again a sign that the man lost his patience and left them behind. She tried fighting the numbness getting ahold of her body, but ended up succumbing at the end. 

The sounds of waves breaking somewhere near them and the constant throbbing of her head dragging her back into unconsciousness. 

                                                  -*-

*Please reblog or like this post if you liked it so I’ll know.

*I’m sorry if there are any spelling mistakes.

*Please do not repost this without giving me the credit, this is a completely original piece and I do not give permission to copy this!

*Hope you guys enjoyed it!

*xoxo

-🌙

[astridthevalkyrie]

summer rain: chapter 3

Your days in the Training Corp aren’t too out of the ordinary. You make friends, you train hard, and you eat dinner every day.

Oh, and you’re also hellbent on getting revenge against Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.

Chapter 2, Chapter 4

You don’t keep your promise to yourself. Very unwillingly, you let Lieutenant Levi catch out after hours again, a few months later, in very different circumstances.

The day goes pretty well before the incident, actually. Nothing extraordinary or painful happens, and you even get Grumman to tell you in that gruff voice of his that you have good form. A good day deserves a good night, a nice farewell. It’s the end of the week, and since tomorrow is everyone’s day off anyways, you decide you want to have a little fun.

The usual suspects want no part in it. Millie doesn’t support sneaking out of the base, Ricky is too busy studying, and Stephen cannot stay awake past dinnertime and is always out like a light. Traitors, the lot of them. There’s absolutely no fun in sneaking out alone, so you start asking around. Surely there must be someone who feels as cooped up as you do.

And that’s how you find yourself in a bar with Traute and Nifa.

It’s an odd combination, you know that much. Nifa is bubbly, bright, and speaks very loudly when she gets drunk. Traute, on the other hand, has a glare that turns out to be helpful to ward off any amorous intruders, but when directed at you, it can be scary. She doesn’t drink at all, giving you a hard stare when you ask her if she wants anything. You only have a single glass yourself before getting up to do what you really came here for - dance.

You start off slow, the alcohol leaving your brain just a bit fuzzy after not drinking for such a long time. The musicians playing on the stage at the side sweeten everyone’s ears with a gradual but energetic melody. You grab a random man’s arm, swinging into step with him. He complies with a hearty chuckle, and now you have a dance partner. In turn, he grabs his friend, who grabs theirs.

Claps and cheers fill the air. You feel the heavy steps under you as your arms flail and you spin, right in the center of it all and enjoying every last second of it. Your hair bounces around you, falling into your face. Someone grabs your hand and tugs you into a waltz. Eventually, dancing turns to jumping, but you don’t care, you live for every second of this. The dancing, the music, the crowd, the sinful act of sneaking out and getting so handsy with everyone. The music is only egging you on.

Your hands are in the air, twirling for all you’re worth. The crowd is cheering you on, the melody is reaching its peak, the room is spinning, and you raise a leg up to finish with a grand pirouette and a wide grin.

The song finishes and you stop to a resounding wave of applause, your arms still thrown in the air.

Right in front of you is Lieutenant Levi, and he does not share the crowd’s enthusiasm.

You stay exactly in the position you are, hands frozen as though he’s caught you. Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe it’s the absurdity of the situation, or maybe it’s that he somehow went to the same seedy bar you did and caught you dancing and is now listening to your admirers enthusiastically shouting for an encore as the next song starts playing. Whatever the reason is, you start laughing.

He looks funny, with his bored, fed up expression. Why does he always look like that?

Sighing at your disorderly conduct, he beckons you forward with one finger. Feeling particularly pleasant, you follow him out of the crowd, pausing only to bow with a flourish to anyone who looks at you. Apparently, Lieutenant Levi does not appreciate your desire to please the crowd, because he grabs your arm and shoves you out of the bar. You giggle, hands flying up to cover your mouth.

“Who did you come here with?” he asks, and you waggle a finger.

“I’m not telling.”

“It’s your little quartet, isn’t it?”

“I’m not telling,” you repeat, taking a few steps back from him. You have no desire to get enthralled in him once again. The last time replays in your mind enough times as it is.

The lieutenant gives you a hard look. You try your best to match it, but you end up breaking out into giggles again, the giddy feeling too good to leave you so soon. He sighs.

“You’re drunk.”

“Ooh, so clever.” You smirk, completely unbothered. He doesn’t look too mad, and you’re not worried about Traute or Nifa either. They’ll find their way back. And now you have an escort! It’s truly a special night. “I’m not, actually. I’m no lightweight. I just feel good.”

“That won’t last long,” he promises, “you just ruined my plans. Instead of having a drink, I get to babysit you. So rest assured I’m going to make your life hell, (L/N).”

Your voice unwittingly comes out in a whine. “But you already do that.”

He sighs that sigh again, placing a hand on the top of your head to spin you around and push you in the direction of the base. You laugh loudly, finding his exasperation hilarious until he gives your temple a painful flick.

“Ow!”

“Fucking brat.”

“Ooh, you’re infuriating.” The good feeling is still there, but it’s a little more bitter. He just has that natural effect on your emotions. “You make me so mad.”

“Likewise,” he responds dryly.

The lack of engagement in his voice only serves to make you more sour. For a few minutes, you remain quiet, the two of you walking side by side. More than once, his knuckles brush against yours, but you pay no attention to the contact. You’re simmering in quiet annoyance, months of being thrown around, embarrassed and disrespected all coming to a head now. The liquid courage you consumed earlier doesn’t help either.

“Was it ugly?” aren’t exactly the words you wanted to say, but they’re the ones that come out.

“Hm?”

You look at him, an uncharacteristically vulnerable look displayed on your features. “My smile. Was it so ugly that you just couldn’t stand it?”

“What are you talking about?” He’s raising a brow at you, the breeze playing with his collar a bit. You realize this is the first time you’ve seen him out of uniform, in only a simple white buttoned shirt. He looks nice.

“The day we met. The first day of training. That day.” You wave a hand to make him understand. “You didn’t like my smile, so you...did what you did. And then you did it again later. That was mean.” There’s a pout on your face now, as you remember all his past transgressions. “It must have been an ugly smile if it made you act like this.”

“What are you trying to say?” Levi looks irritated. “Spit it out, (L/N).”

So you do.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

He looks at you, really looks at you, and yet he doesn’t halt. He merely scans your questioning face, your downtrodden expression and the downward direction of your lips. You’re not trying to be difficult this time, you’re really not. You just think that you have a right to know just what you did to make him constantly come after you. Maybe once you hear it, your ridiculous attraction to him will stop.

“What makes you think I hate you?” he replies, genuinely, honestly, and your heart clenches. Before you can reply, he goes on, “I wouldn’t be training you if I hated you. Wouldn’t put up with your annoying ass presence all the time.”

Not sure what to do with such a backhanded compliment, you press on. “So what, you like me? I’d hate to see how you treat your enemies.”

“You would hate to see it,” Levi hums in agreement, and leaves it at that. There’s no confirmation as to whether or not he likes you, which you take to mean he merely tolerates you enough. That does nothing for your feelings. Oh Maria, you can’t actually believe you’re entertaining the idea of having feelings for him in the first place. There’s an attraction there, sure, in a if-he-asked-you-to-sleep-with-him-you-would-probably-say-yes kind of way. You can appreciate his features, you can admit that he’s ridiculously attractive (for a midget). But it doesn’t go deeper than that, and you know now that it doesn’t go deeper for him either. You’re a thorn in his side, who he begrudgingly agrees to train out of some sense of duty. That’s fine. Except…

Except your fascination with his eyes doesn’t just stem from you good you think they’d look above you. It’s been the same thing since day one - there’s just something about him you crave. His closeness, his attention. He’s interested you since the beginning, and you just don’t know why. It looks like you won’t ever find out.

“Hey.” Levi flicks your forehead again, ignoring the glare you throw his way. “You’re thinking too loudly. Cut it out.”

You cut it out.

Not even a whole minute later, he asks, “What were you thinking about?”

He just can’t make up his mind, can he? What an adorable little sadist.

For maybe the first time since you arrived here, you think carefully about your words before speaking. “I was thinking about something that happened once back home.” When he doesn’t say anything, only raises a brow, you continue, “Millie and I went out this one time, with this guy I liked but was too shy to tell. It was pretty late, and I was really tired, so we got separated somehow. I ended up in front of this large mansion. Large, large. Like, I grew up there as one of the richest girls on the block and I still thought it was huge -”

“Get to the point,” Levi grumbles, and you smirk at his impatience. You really do think he should hear this one.

“I knocked on the door, and these two women opened it. I told them what happened, and they agreed to let me stay the night. So I ate dinner with them and then -”

The lieutenant just isn’t content with letting you tell your story without interrupting. “You actually went in? That’s so fucking stupid. Not to mention dangerous. Why didn’t you just try to go home?”

“I’m scared of walking alone at night.” You wave your hand dismissively and hurry on before he can chide you further about how unsafe it is to trust strangers. “So anyway, I went to sleep in one of their spare rooms, but in the middle of the night...I heard something. A scratching sound. It freaked me out.”

He scoffs. “I would guess you got murdered after that, but since you’re here, I guess we weren’t so lucky.”

You look at him crossly. “Ha-ha. No, I made it through the night. I asked them about it the next morning -”

“And then they killed you.”

“No. They told me they’d love to tell me, but they couldn’t, because I wasn’t part of their secret society that they had built the mansion for. So I left, but a month later, I ended up getting lost there again.”

“You’re fucking useless.”

“Shut up.” You’re not sure where you get the gall to tell him that. “I stayed the night again, I heard the scratching again, and I asked again. But they said the same thing. So I said, screw it, I really want to know, I’ll join the secret society. They tell me that first I need to tell them how many houses there are in Stohess. It doesn’t have to be exact, but it has to be close.”

Levi’s brows are furrowed in concentration. He shakes his head with a frown, clearly running it over in his head. “I can’t see how you could figure something like that out. It would take you ages to walk through every single street and count all of them. Why would they need to know that anyways?”

You shrug. “Haven’t the faintest clue. But remember I said there was that guy I liked? His father is actually a mathematician, and the man’s a chip off the old block. So I go to him, and he helps me out. Approximates the shit out of it. I thank him with a kiss and then go to the mansion, and give them my final answer.” You lick your lower lip, basking in how intently Levi was listening to your story. “They said I was close enough and that they could finally tell me where the sound was coming from. They lead me to a gold door, and give me a gold key. Actual gold, Lieutenant.”

“Fascinating,” he mutters sarcastically.

“It is,” you agree, humming, “I open the door, but then there’s another door. This time it’s silver.”

There’s deep confusion in those grey eyes. Something is very thrilling about having him hang on to your every word.

“They hand me a silver key, and I open the silver door, and then there’s a bronze door. At this point I’m really irritated, but they give me a bronze key and promise that this is the last door. So I put it in, unlock it, and open the door. And then I finally see it.”

You’ve arrived at the base. Snapping your heels together, you press your fist to your chest and salute. “Thanks for walking me back, Lieutenant. See you tomorrow.”

“What?” His eyes narrow. “Finish the story, (L/N). What was making the sound?”

You gasp in mock surprise, scandalized. “I can’t tell you, you’re not part of the secret society.”

If only you could capture his face in this very moment. It’s as though he goes through all the stages of grief - denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance all in one second. His mouth falls open in surprise, and you burst out laughing, pointing at him gleefully.

“Ooh, I got you so good!”

Levi gives you the dirtiest look you’ve ever seen, which only serves to make you guffaw even louder. You grin broadly - it feels so amazing to one-up him, even if it’s in this brief, stupid exchange. He can take this as your revenge for flustering you in the hallway a few months ago. Just who did this man think he was playing with? You are the product of the bitches and bastards of the fakest place in the world, so yeah, you can tell a story, and you can act your heart out. In fact, what were you doing here in the military? You should’ve joined a traveling theatre group, now that would have put your many talents to good use.

“Your sense of humor is shitty,” the lieutenant informs you flatly. Oh, you beg to disagree. “Laughing at your own jokes doesn’t make them good. So it was all fake, then?”

You do your best to control your giggles. “Y-yeah. I don’t just sleep over at random mansions. And I’m not scared of being alone in the dark.”

“All of it was fake?” he asks again, and this time it’s your turn to be confused.

“Yes?”

He tsks, whether at you or himself you’re not sure, then lets out a tired sigh. Sparing no further pleasantries, he orders you to bed, warns you not to be late tomorrow, and adds that he’s looking forward to the fresh hell he plans to inflict on you. You salute again, just to be extra, then start walking to the female barracks, still laughing to yourself. Hopefully this won’t seem like a hazy dream tomorrow. You got him, you really got him.

Just before you change into your nightgown, a fleeting thought pops into your mind.

Was the reason the lieutenant double-checked that the story was fake because you mentioned that there had been a guy you liked? No, that was ridiculous. He probably just wanted to check that his subordinate that he was investing so much time in wasn’t a complete idiot. But the thought is stuck in your head now, and you fight back a smile, burying your face in your pillow. Maybe you are a little drunk, but you could go back to hating him in the morning.

____________________

It’s astonishing to you, but you’ve actually improved. Gone are the days of your legs aching after running a few measly laps. When Rashad attempts to pin you down, you can flip him over and hold him there. The ODM gear starts to feel more natural, and zipping through the air is slowly becoming muscle memory. Even the swords feel just right in your hands, although it’s weird that you could run out of them and then have nothing to defend yourself with. Oh well, you don’t plan to be in that kind of situation anyways.

You hate to admit it, but Lieutenant Levi’s training is paying off. It’s not something you realize until you learn, with a start, that you are in the top ten. Number six, to be specific. Ricky mocks you endlessly for being one of those people who say they don’t care when they in fact care very much, as though he’s not two ranks below you.

Without telling Millie, you send a letter to your mother, telling her about your achievements.

Mama,

Sorry for taking so long to write. I wasn’t so sure you wanted me to. I still don’t know. But l wanted to tell you that I’m doing well here. I’m number six in the ranks. Isn’t that cool?

Millie’s doing well too, although I’m sure Mrs. Shackel keeps you updated. We have these two boys who follow us around like annoying flies. One’s from a village in Rose, and the other’s actually from an outer city of Wall Maria. Don’t worry, I don’t plan to marry a poor boy. I’ll find someone rich to settle down with eventually.

I hope you’re taking care, and I hope Grandma is too. Her condition hasn’t gotten any worse, has it? If you need me to send something from here, I’ll do my best to see if I can find it.

I wish I was the kind of daughter who could write you a longer letter. Sorry, Mama, but I’m not sure what else to say. Who knows if I’ll see you again?

Lots of love,

(F/N)

____________________

“I” - huff - “need it.”

“No.”

“I” - huff - “will” - huff - “kill you.”

“Tch. You’d try.”

“Just give me the water, please.”

“You still have a lap left.”

“I’ll do it, it’s important to stay hydrated!”

“Do the lap, then you get the water.”

“If you don’t give it to me now, I’ll faint.”

“Then I’ll leave you out here.”

“You wouldn’t - well, you would, but you shouldn’t.”

“Don’t want to. So get to it.”

“God, fine!”

“...”

“Now can I” - huff - “please have it?”

“I don’t know, can you?”

“You are such a -”

“You talk too much.”

“Oh my” - cough - “God. Are you trying to choke me?”

“You wanted the water.”

“To drink, not for you to shove down my throat and waterboard me with!”

“Ungrateful wretch.”

“What are you, a charming prince from a novel?”

“Yes. Now drink up, my bratty duchess, we’ve got more work to do.”

____________________

There’s dirt on your face, your sleeves, and your shoes, and yet you stay still, with a small grin on your face. You’re lying down, facing up, hands pressed up against the ground. To anyone flying above, you’d blend in with the dirt perfectly. Or at least, that’s what you’re counting on.

Somewhere out there, Ricky is on the hunt looking for you.

Your gear lies hidden a few feet away, since you didn’t want anything chunky to ruin your brilliant camouflage. Obviously a good long wash will do wonders for you later, but for now you stay quiet, ignoring the filth on your otherwise pristine self. The forest is quiet, with the light chirps of birds that you’re sure are very cute but would take a shit on you if you stay here too long. You breathe in and out quietly, stomach tense as you wait to see if your plan will work.

The wait isn’t long. You hear him before you see him, faint clicking sounds that his ODM gear is nice enough to alert you with. Pressing down into the ground, you hold your breath and close your eyes halfway, convincing yourself that you’re part of the nature that surrounds you. If you believe it hard enough, maybe this will actually work and Ricky won’t spot you.

After a second that feels like an hour, you hear him fly away and you breathe easy, running a hand through your hair.

Only then you feel something brush up against your finger, something hairy that’s crawling up your hand -

You let out an ungodly shriek, jumping to your feet. The poor bug that crawled onto your hand is flung off as you thrash your arms this way and that, smacking your skin just to get it off, get it off, get it off!

For all your efforts, Ricky hears you scream and immediately zooms back, chortling. He lands down in front of you, placing his finger on your nose as soon as you calm down.

“Found you.”

You sigh. This extreme version of hide-and-seek may have been a bad idea.

____________________

Millie has her head in your lap, a map in her hands as she shakes her head. Apparently there’s something marvelous about the document, since she can’t keep her eyes off it.

“I don’t think I ever realized how large the space is between the walls,” she mutters, “there’s so much distance between Maria and Rose. It didn’t feel that way when we came here.”

“Yeah,” you hum, absentmindedly tracing designs on her cheek, “makes you wonder how different people get the more inward they go.”

Millie’s nose wrinkles in concentration. “Stephen has a slight accent. Have you noticed?”

“Mmhm. He does good work hiding it, though. It’s hard to pick up on it unless he has to roll his r’s.” You try snatching the map from her hands but she holds on tightly, scolding you over trying to give her a papercut. Well that’s hilarious, considering the two of your are covered in scratches and bruises all over, but that’s Millie for you, always striving for the closest thing to perfection she can get.

You lean your head back against the bark of the tree, leaving her to her observations. It’s been a while since the two of you have gotten to hang out together, away from everyone else. It’s really no one’s fault, you’re both busy and it’s not like you haven’t already spent most of your lives together. Millie has her studies to religiously focus on, her rivals to crush, and apparently her maps to drool over. Meanwhile, you have friends to playfully compete with, horrible doodles to draw next to your scribbled notes, and your mind is strangely preoccupied with…

“Look, it’s your best friend,” Millie said noncommittally, nodding her head to the right.

Deja vu hits you like a merchant’s cart. You’re sitting under the same tree, he’s walking in the same direction. When he catches your gaze, you decide to complete the scene and give him a bright smile and a friendly wave.

Levi stares at you for two seconds, and then rolls his eyes and keeps walking. You bite your lip, just slightly amused.

It’s an improvement.

____________________

"(L/N), you’ve got a letter too!” are the words that shake you out of your sleep haze in the morning. You jump up, pushing past the others trying to get their hands on their mail. Reginald, the man who's nice enough to put up with this crap once a week, thrusts an extremely fancy envelope in your hand. Your name is written on the back in your mother’s expert penmanship. You eagerly walk back to your seat, ignoring the glares and eyerolls from some people who obviously weren’t getting their letters in pretty envelopes.

You sit back down at the table, opening the letter with extra care. It’s from your mother, and that makes it precious, so you want to savor it the best you can. Across from you in her normal seat, Millie raises a brow.

“Your mom wrote to you?”

“I wrote to her a few weeks ago. Just wanted to catch up,” you say quietly, not meeting her eyes, “I’m surprised she wrote back.”

Next to Millie, Stephen’s brows furrow. “Why wouldn’t your mother write back to you?”

“No reason,” you answer quickly, “she’s just a busy woman.”

With your friends’ watching your reaction carefully, you unfold the piece of paper, beginning to read.

To my darling daughter,

You say you don’t write much, and yet it gave me a headache just to read that much. You know that I like to be organized, so I’ll answer your unwanted letter point by point.

It’s certainly wonderful that you’re sixth in the ranks. Perhaps that means you’re the sixth least likely to die? Maybe the next time I hear from you, it’ll actually be from your commanding officer telling me how special you were, but how that didn’t stop you from meeting your terrible end. Hopefully there’ll at least be a small pension that comes with it.

Mrs. Shackel and I met for tea last week. She told me you were being personally trained by the best soldier in the Scouts. I have an idea - marry him, someone with such a valuable skill set surely isn’t poor, and is much better suited to your tastes. That way not only will you leave me without a daughter, but you’ll also leave the poor man a widow as well. Would that satisfy your cruelty, dear?

I am taking care. Grandma is taking care. We are doing fine without you. We don’t need anything from you. I don’t think we ever have. Had I known I was raising such a manipulative, heartless girl, I would have prayed to that ridiculous church that you die during childbirth. Unfortunately, Sina did not give me the good instincts to run a knife through you the second you were born.

Please do not write again.

Lots of love,

Your doting mother

“(F/N),” Millie starts immediately, taking in your stricken expression. She must have a good idea of what the letter says. “Forget about it, she’s a -”

You clear your throat loudly, standing up. Stephen looks worried, but he also seems unsure as to what to do. You don’t want him to do anything, hell, you don’t even want Millie to do anything. You want to get out of here. The room is suddenly suffocating. Your eyes are stinging but you are damned if you’re going to break down in here, so you only shake your head, unable to form words. You wave a hand at Millie, hoping she gets the hint not to follow you.

Without looking at anyone, you rush out of the mess hall. Despite your determination to wait until you’re definitely in a secluded area, tears start flowing down your face the second you step out. With an ugly, pained sob escaping you, you break out into a run.

Now that it’s getting a bit chillier, the cold bites into your eyes, making them water even more. You stop running after a few minutes, in the middle of the grounds. With everyone still having breakfast, there’s no one here yet, and you take that as an invitation to drop to your knees and start crying in earnest.

Why did she have to be so cruel?

You’re not a crier, you’re really not. An avid complainer, sure. A whiner at times. Definitely a sore loser. But you don’t particularly get any catharsis out of crying like so many other people do. When it comes to your mother, though...she’s just always known exactly where to strike her punches to turn you into a helpless little girl again. She can make you start blubbering so easily, and you hate that she can control your emotions even from so far away.

So you read the letter over and over again, until you’re mouthing the words on your lips that taste salty from the waterworks coating them. You’re trying to be quiet, but it’s beyond your control. You’re sobbing and wailing, and showing no sign of stopping.

There’s a quiet rustling beside you as someone walks up, and you shut your eyes tightly for a second. “M-Mil, I’m fine, I swear.”

“Are you?” Levi inquires, and you choke on a surprised sob, swallowing the embarrassing sound at the last second. Furiously wiping your eyes, you make to stand, but he crouches down instead.

He’s been in close proximity to you before, but never like this. Right now he’s near enough for you to reach out and touch his cheek if you so desired, but far enough that he’s not overwhelming you, and yet you can see the pores on his cheeks, the individual lashes lining those gorgeous grey eyes. You wipe your cheeks angrily. Great, just great, this incident will set you back several months on your plan. As though he was someone who needed to see you in such a vulnerable state.

The lieutenant outstretches his hand expectantly, and you’re not sure why you give him the letter so easily. You watch as his eyes scan the cruel words.

“I know,” you say before he can speak, “I know it’s not a big deal. But she’s my mother, I just - I just wanted her to - I thought she could at least be a little proud - “

You don’t realize another tear has rolled down your cheek until he brushes his thumb across your face, wiping it off easily. God, he must think you so weak. You wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to stop your private lessons right here and now.

But when you look at him, there’s no condescension on his face. There’s not even pity. You can’t place it. To an outsider he might look angry, but after knowing him for almost a year, you know that’s not it. It’s something strangely...protective. Fierce. You never expected him to look at you like that. You don’t know what to make of it.

“Stop crying,” he orders, not unkindly. It could be taken as a request. “Do you want to keep this letter?”

“I - I don’t know.”

It seems your body is more obedient than you are, because you stop tearing up, and when you wipe your face again, it remains dry.

“That’s it,” Levi murmurs, as his hands hold yours, warming them up. “Personally, I’d rip it to shreds. But that’s up to you.”

What’s going on? He’s being...well, he’s being nice. He’s never nice. He’s not always unpleasant, and he indulges in your silly banter, but he’s never been so...soft, especially not with you. And just why are you so easily warming up to him, going as far as to curl your fingers around his? Is it because his hands are warm against your cold ones, or is it...is it because…

“I want to keep it,” you blurt out, partly to keep yourself from the unwelcome thoughts inside your head.

He nods. and then gently grasps your arms, bringing both you and him to your feet. He places the letter in your hand, and then proceeds to brush the sides of your uniform off. It’s rough, but you’re emotional and this feels like the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for you.

“Thanks,” you breathe. It’s hard to say, but you spit it out anyways. “I - I don’t know what to - thank you.”

Finally, Levi looks like himself again, because he rolls his eyes and mutters, “I just picked your lazy ass up, (L/N), don’t look so fucking grateful about it.”

You smile softly, but he looks away, obviously feeling awkward. He truly goes through moods like he’s trying on different outfits, the weirdo. You decide that just this once you can spare him - besides, you need to save face too. You turn around, intending to walk away.

The lieutenant grabs your hand at the last second. He grips it tightly, keeping your arm outstretched. If only your heart could stop lurching like this, it’s not as if he’s going to pull you in for a kiss - he’s not the type.

“(L/N).”

“Yes?”

“From now on, if you’re going to cry, you’re only going to cry because of me. Understood?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes, sir.”

He nods, satisfied, and lets you go.

____________________

You can’t believe you’re doing this.

In the past year, you’ve been to Lieutenant Levi’s office once, maybe twice or thrice. Either you had something to tell him (like how you couldn’t train due to severe emotional trauma, which was usually denied), or he led you there himself, to quickly grab something. How come he gets an office anyway? You’re pretty sure one has to be a captain or section commander to get their own space, and Levi is neither. You suppose being humanity’s strongest comes with its own benefits, even if it is an unofficial title. He gets to enjoy the finer things in life. Lucky him.

Anyways, you hadn’t planned on showing up here after hours, and certainly not with a steaming cup of tea in your hands.

Swallowing every bit of your pride, you knock on the door. “Lieutenant?”

No answer. You knock again.

And again.

It’s right as your knocks get just a touch louder that you hear him groan, “I’m coming, just hold on a second.”

When Levi opens the door, you take the quickest second to note that he looks how he did the day he walked you home, dressed in casual clothing. Realistically you know that no one stays in their uniform all day, but it’s still jarring to see him out of it. Someone might mistake him as approachable, although that ridiculous notion would quickly evaporate when they got a good look at his face.

He gives you a quick annoyed lookover, clearly waiting to hear your reason for disturbing him at this time.

“Chamomile,” you say with a grin, thrusting it forward, “Helps you sleep.”

He gives you a long, deadpan look.

“Who asked you to make this?”

“No one asked me.” You let out a puff of air to blow the loose strands of hair that have fallen out from your bun into your eyes. “I’m being nice. As thanks for...you know. Just take it.”

Levi doesn’t take it, but he does turn and go back into his office without closing the door, so you take the invitation and slip in, shutting it behind you. He slips into the chair behind his desk and you make yourself comfortable in the one in the front. There’s important looking documents all over, but there’s an order to them - a method to his madness. There’s not a single pen out of place. Of course, this is your obsessive compulsive midget who organized it, so you can’t expect anything else.

You slide the cup across the desk, where there’s another cup of tea already half empty. Oops, you’ve accidentally fueled his caffeine addiction. “That doesn’t look like chamomile.”

“It’s not. Just regular black tea.”

“Won’t that keep you up even more?”

“That’s the idea,” he says calmly, relaxed and leaning back.

“Wow, you’re a proud insomniac.” You shake your head in a disappointed manner. “If it were me, I’d at least try to sleep.”

Levi gives you a little glare, then pushes aside the paper he was working on to pick up your gift. He peers at it, looking a bit tired all of a sudden. It’s as though the day or the month or the entire year is catching up with him, and his eyes flicker to your eager face before he lets out a long sigh, raises the cup and brings it to his mouth.

Almost immediately he gags, slamming it down as his face scrunches up in disgust. “What the fuck, (L/N)? This is shit!”

Well, excuse you. You’re not a professional tea sommelier, and this isn’t some dainty cafe.

Still, you wince, crossing your arms and curling back into the chair. “Sorry. I’ve never actually made tea before. I’m not a fan.”

“Let me guess,” Levi says in a scathing tone as though you just admitted to cold-blooded murder, “you drink coffee.”

What an ignorant thing to assume.

“I drink milk, I’ll have you know.” You snap this at him, only realizing a second later that it’s not really something to boast about so proudly.

Something he clearly realizes as well, because he’s fighting back a smile and failing pretty miserably. “You drink milk.”

Well, there’s no taking it back now. “Yes.”

“Milk.”

“It makes your bones grow strong, okay?”

He laughs at you, leaning back in his seat. “Of course it does.”

“Don’t make fun of me, it does!”

You bite down the comment that comes to mind, which is that he must not have drank much milk otherwise he’d probably be taller. You’re here to be nice, you remind yourself, even if he’s being his usual infuriating self. There’s lots of nice things you can do, like...like…

Oh my gosh, are you the mean one in this relationship? No, that’s impossible.

“Looks like you have a lot of work,” you say, gesturing to the piles of paper on his desk. “Want some help?”

Levi raises a brow at you, as though to ask you how much help you possibly think you could be. That’s fucking rude. “No, I wouldn't want to waste your strong bones on some boring paperwork.”

It’s your turn to glare. Maybe focusing on his totally wrong opinions about your choice in beverage will help you ignore the fact that the two of you are sitting, dare you say, cozily, in his office. He’s not kicking you out, he’s indulging you in conversation, and he’s even taking another sip from the supposedly terrible cup of tea you made for him. Sure, he grimaces after drinking it, but he’s not throwing it out. That’s...something.

Your relationship with the lieutenant is quickly becoming something dangerous. You’re enjoying his company a little too much lately. You’re thrilling in his laughter too often, you’re drowning in his eyes an unhealthy amount. It could be chalked up to the fact that you’ve just grown accustomed to him, since you see him so often, but you know that’s not it. The more likely explanation is that you just have such low expectations for him that the second he shows basic human decency, you mistake your surprise for some newfound affection for the man. You want that to be the explanation, at least. The alternative is too awful to think about.

“So,” he begins, and you think you’re about to be kicked out until he says, “shitty mom. What’s that about?”

You sigh. That’s about the only conversation topic you don’t want to breach, but you suppose it can’t be avoided. “Typical rich girl problems. She wants to use me for her own purposes, so she’s not happy I got up and abandoned her. Plus, Dad died outside the walls, and she’s not really a fan of me following in his footsteps.” You feel comfortable telling him this much.

Levi looks thoughtful. “Do you plan to die out there?” He’s not fazed by your blunt attitude at all, which is kind of refreshing, actually.

But the question is still...well, how do you answer that? How do you answer it without disappointing him? And why does it matter if you disappoint him? You don’t have the answer to any of these questions, so you only shrug and avert your eyes, letting them drop down the floor. Your goals are your own, and he doesn’t need to know them. He doesn’t pressure you, only hums in understanding.

“I’ve really never had a cup of tea this bad.”

You smile, grateful for the change of topic. “No one’s forcing you to drink it. Lieutenant.”

“Insolent brat, you go a whole conversation and then add the title like you’re doing me some kind of fucking favor.” He’s good at avoiding the topic too. Your eyes light up, and you lean forward.

“Pardon me, sir. Lieutenant Levi. Your grace. My prince charming. The duke of destruction. My deepest apologies.”

“Not forgiven.” He smirks, thoroughly entertained. “Try harder.”

“Make me.” The response slips naturally through your lips, inviting and seductive.

Oh for the love of Rose, you think to yourself, please shut the fuck up. It’s like the second you resolve to keep things neutral with him, he sets something up so well that you have to say something borderline flirtatious. It’s just too easy with him. You lose all semblance of self control, and always end up saying something stupid.

“Should I?” Levi muses, a gleam in his eyes now. “Your mother did suggest that you marry me. Maybe I should take her up on that.” He leans forward with a cruel smile, as if the idea is perfectly enticing to him. “Would you finally be a good girl and listen to me then, (L/N)?”

You freeze, mouth falling open. You had really, truly forgotten that your witch of a mother had included that in her oh-so loving letter, and that he’d read it. Holy hells, the universe wouldn’t be satisfied until the man in front of you had humiliated you in every way, shape and form. And this right here, this is exactly the fucking problem. He never stops you when you unintentionally flirt with him - most of the time he ignores it, and other times he encourages you and you daresay he flirts back. To mess with you, of course, none of this is genuine, but it makes the butterflies in your stomach freak out either way.

“Probably not, sir,” you force out when you find your voice, “I’m actually not looking to get married at all, so if someone did make a wife out of me, I’d fight them tooth and nail.”

He snorts. “Of course you would. Have to make use of those strong bones somehow, don’t you?” This fucking midget, he somehow musters up the audacity to leave you flustered and then moves on and pretends like nothing happened. What an asshole.

“Oh my God,” you groan, “leave me and my milk alone, caffeine addict. Seriously, I know it’s bad out there, but it can’t possibly be bad enough for you to act like such a hardass all the time.”

Levi pauses, the sharp retort that he was surely about to fire dying on his lips. There’s a brief flash of sadness in his eyes, and you bite your lip. Fuck, maybe you’re the one who crossed the line this time. You have a quick apology ready to go. but he speaks before you get the chance.

“For your information,” he says coolly, “I’ve always been like this.”

Well, that’s interesting. He’s not wartorn, just a grump? No one is just negative all the time for no reason, they have to have been screwed over by life somehow. You can’t take his claim at face value, you just have to do some more digging.

“And why is that? Rough childhood?” You snap your fingers, invested in this new guessing game. “Orphaned as a baby. Cast aside by a sibling.” Your eyes sparkle mischievously as you grin. “Abandoned at the altar by your long time lover. She left you for your cousin!”

“It’s past your bedtime,” Levi says, standing up, “lovely of you to drop by, but you better get going.”

The cup that you gave him is now empty.

“Injury. Business deal went wrong.” He pulls you up by your arms, ignoring your scientific hypotheses. “Your favorite pet died. Ooh, I know, the company your father left you in charge of went bankrupt! Wait wait wait, Levi!” He’s pushed you out of the room and has a hand on the door, but before he can close it, you place your palm against his chest, looking at him very seriously.

“Is it the altar one?”

“Why do you need to know?” he asks, seizing your wrist to take it off.

See, this is what you mean by setting you up perfectly. It’s his fault, all his fault. “If my betrothed has a scandalous past, I think I have a right to that information.”

Levi shoves you out and slams the door shut, leaving you beaming as you begin to jog to your dorms. That’s another point for you, and now that you’ve paid him back for comforting you earlier the two of you are even, and you can return to planning for the battle that he has no idea he’s participating in. The stars shine brightly that night, and you sleep easy.

____________________

“Look, they’re back!”

Everyone ignores Grumman’s instructions to stay right where they are, an action they’ll probably pay for in blood, sweat and tears later. The Scouts are returning from their latest expedition, finally. Everyone around the base is always tense when they leave, and now people can rest easy knowing that the next one won’t be for a few months. There’s apprehension in the air - as of right now, no one knows who made it back and who wasn’t so fortunate. You feel a twinge of guilt at the relief that you know the only person is the Survey Corp that you care for know is the most likely to have survived.

Sure enough, there he is next to Captain Erwin, looking weary as he gets off his horse. You’ve pushed forward to the front of the crowd of cadets, all scanning the crowd. You find yourself sandwiched between Ricky, whose long legs make it easy for him to keep up with you, and Petra, who is sighing with a dreamy smile on her face. You follow her gaze, confused.

“What, one of them bring back some food?” You crane your neck to figure out what she’s looking so lovingly at.

“No.” Petra points discreetly, and you follow her finger. “It’s just, he’s rather handsome, isn’t he?”

“Who, Erwin Smith? I mean, I guess, but he’s not really my -”

“No, (F/N).” She shakes her head fondly. “Lieutenant Levi. Don’t you think he’s extremely good-looking?”

Next to you, Ricky barks out a laugh, and you elbow him as you utter with the grace of someone who hasn’t been fantasizing about Levi’s eyes since the moment you met him, “No, not really. You can do better, Petra, trust me.”

A soldier rides in late, his face panicked and sweat trickling down his face.

“Oh, come on, I know the two of you have your differences, but even you have to admit that -”

One second, you’re chattering with Petra and wrestling Ricky with one arm as he grinds your foot against his.

The next second, your ears are ringing with the words that the soldier screams as loud as he can.

“The titans have broken the outer wall! They’ve gotten into Shiganshina!”

In a single moment, everything you know and hold dear changes.

All at once people are shouting, screaming at the poor soldier who delivered the news to explain. The titans have gotten into Shiganshina? How could they have? Is he out of his mind? Who sent him? How many drinks has he had? What does he mean, they’ve broken the outer wall? It’s a wall, it can’t just be broken, so what does he mean? What is he talking about?

It takes you a minute to notice Ricky has completely frozen next to you. His hands are trembling, and he’s mumbling to himself and shaking his head, as though this is a nightmare and he just needs a good pinch to wake up.

“My - my mom and dad, and my sisters,” he’s saying. “They’re not...they can’t fight titans, they’re not soldiers. They need...need help…”

With a terrifying realization, you remember that he’s from Shiganshina. You’re grabbing his arm to steady him, words of reassurance getting stuck in your throat. You don’t know what to say - you can barely control the consuming fear growing inside you, let alone soothe his.

In the next few seconds, Commander Shadis has learned everything he’s going to learn from the messenger, and he lets out a scream you will remember for the rest of your life. The order that’s delivered to you on humanity’s darkest day is simple.

“All Survey Corps members will refill their gas and restock their blades immediately! I want you all back on horseback in five minutes, you hear me? We are riding back to Shiganshina right now! All cadets and other personnel at this base are to gather the rest of the horses and get behind Wall Rose to assist the soldiers there with the refugees! Is that understood?”

He’s met with the chilling cries of at least a hundred people shouting, “Yes, sir!”

Your voice was not among the people who answered. As people run past you to prepare, you run forward, because suddenly you’re scared. Suddenly you’re not so sure that he’ll come back. And you can battle with yourself all you want later, all that’s important to you right now is getting to him. Even as you see tearstained faces pass by, you keep running, because you have to catch him before he goes, you have to -

You catch up to him right before he disappears. Steely grey eyes meet yours as people rush past you, no one sparing even a second glance to the two of you.

For a second, he’s surprised. Then he turns cold, and hard, and you know that many people are about to die. And he’s going to have to witness every. Last. One.

“Is there someone in Shiganshina you need me to look out for?” Levi murmurs, with all the softness of someone who might be riding out to his death.

No, you want to scream. Ricky’s family, maybe, but you don’t even know what they look like, and he’s going to have to worry about saving enough people without you placing an extra burden on his shoulders. No, it’s nothing like that, you just want him to...you need him to...

“Be careful,” you manage to get out in a foolish, rushed request, “please be careful.”

Shock makes its way to his features, as though he thinks it’s out of this world for someone to ask him to stay alive for his own sake. Your heart clenches, but you’re not leaving until he promises you he’s going to come back.

“Levi!” Captain Erwin calls. You don’t have any time left.

Even before he speaks, you know that he’s not going to make you the stupid promise you were hoping for. He’s not flowery, and certainly not one to feed you bullshit. No, he’s real, the realest person you’ve ever known, and his answer is going to be as authentic as he is.

“I’ll do my best.” Levi pulls away from you. “You be careful too, (L/N).”

With that, he breaks away from you and is lost in the crowd.

You don’t even realize you had been holding onto him until your hand is left feeling bare, reaching for him in an endless sea of soldiers storming to their doom.

ohhhhhh, i’ve been waiting for this for a long time. surprise, things are happening!

mommy dearest is rather harsh, isn’t she? reader’s no sweetheart herself, but damn.

yes, there’s a slap on titan reference in there.

poor carla is getting eaten right about now, and reader is here having a moment. sigh.

comment and let me know what you think!

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 14- New World Order

Summary: With the world back to it’s usual business, and the Avenger’s base on a long road to recovery. You and Bucky begin a new chapter in Brooklyn, New York City.

Warning: just fluff really, and some spicy talk maybe a little suggestive themes if you will

Masterlist

It’s been about three months since the events leading up to the dusting of Thanos’ whole army and the death of that giant purple bastard. Ninety-one days since Tony Starks funeral, and 2184 hours since your entire world changed for the better.

Although you’d be a sore liar if you said you didn’t miss your old life with everyone at the Avengers Facility. Even with such a dramatic new change to your life now, you miss Natasha, you miss your late night talks with Steve, and maybe you even miss that little shithead raccoon. But there has been an emerging inner peace with what you gained that just about outweighs your heavy losses.

Someone who’s brought you unconditional love and understanding in your blooming state, someone who’s helped to draw your grief and anguish out of your vessel and transform it into something golden and pure. Your sweet Bucky. If someone last year was to claim at this time you’d be living in an apartment in New York with the love of your life. Well, you’d probably have swiftly made them regret it.

But now, things are better, not one hundred percent fantastic and awesome. But so much better then yourself an entire year ago could ever have even imagined. And that’s good enough for you.

Staring intently down at your little houseplant, you gently spray it with a spray bottle before standing back to admire your caretaking skills. Not too bad. Not too bad at all. Face shifting to that of a stern army general, you get down real close to the leaves so that your face is mere inches from the soaked plant, “I hope you drink this up okay? Bucky thinks I’m gonna kill you and I’m not losing that bet to him. No sir, so don’t you die on me.” The tiny fern keeps silent for obvious reasons at your little pep talk, it’s green leaves protruding beautifully outward as you set the spray bottle onto the countertop.

“He’s gonna owe me fifty dollars if you last till October, and I don’t even care about the money. I just want bragging rights.” You whisper before standing up and wandering over to the living room window.

The city lights are glowing vibrantly in the nights atmosphere, cars and people alike traveling down below your apartment building, oblivious to the whereabouts of two Avengers a couple stories above their very heads. Two ex-assissins. Both products of Hydra. Damn you’ve got a loaded history.

“Y/N! Are you coming!” There’s a long pause of silence from your bedroom that causes you to open your mouth to answer, but before you’re able to say anything in reply, Bucky yells out, “Also I can’t find my white t-shirt, do you know where it is?! Actually never mind I’m going shirtless!”

You let out a humored snort before swiftly turning on your heel and walking down the hallway until you finally reach your bedroom door, “You know we have neighbors right?”

Bucky sends you a shy smile as he disappears into the bathroom for something, “I’m sure this place has thick walls.” He says while flipping up the ceramic toilet seat.

“Uh huh.” You mutter unconvinced, deciding to search his drawers for a spare sleeping shirt.

Noticing your snooping, Bucky finishes up before flushing the toilet and wandering out the door until he’s practically leaning against your shoulder, “Don’t you have clothes?” Questions Bucky with a small chuckle as you throw him a look.

“I need ones to sleep in.” You casually protest as he slowly nods, clearly not getting your admittedly vague point.

“Don’t you have one to sleep in?”

Picking out a grey shirt of his, you shut the dresser before taking off yours, “All my shit got destroyed when Thanos blew up the base. So I’m limited with the stuff I did buy.” He watches as you unintentionally flash him before pulling on his sleep shirt, “And I’m not exactly eager to be out and about right now. I’m still getting used to the new amount of people on this planet. Also I don’t like shopping......or people.”

Bucky nods in understanding as he follows you to the bed, though he can’t quit suppress his chuckles, “Okay fine.”

Throwing the blanket back, you raise a brow at him for that humored yet blunt remark, “Did you not want me to take this one?” You ask, speaking like you’re talking to a little puppy just to tease him more.

Rolling his beautiful blues, Bucky gets into bed as you do the same, “No. Its fine, I don’t actually care.”

Chuckling, you move to sit next to him as he lays on his back, “Good. Cause you’re shirtless and I think I like you better that way. Means I can tickle you easier.”

“Don’t you dare tickle me Y/N or I will lock you out of the bathroom again I swear.” Warns Bucky as he quickly pulls the blanket over his muscular body while you start laughing at him.

“I wasn’t gonna do that. No....definitely not.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Huh well, guess you won’t be able to cuddle me then if you don’t trust me...” Throwing the blanket off of him, Bucky quickly engulfs you into his strong arms as you squeak with surprise, pulling you down so that he can be the big spoon for tonight.

“Now you’re trapped.” Mumbles Bucky against your shoulder as his chest pushes at your back when he laughs. He thinks he’s so funny.

Holding his arm that’s pressed against your body, you gently pat it as he hums in content, “Buck, I’m thoroughly enjoying this actually so just keep your arm there, even if it falls asleep you’re not allowed to move it sucker. That’s the rules.”

“Well maybe I like those rules. Sucker.” Chuckles Bucky as you bite your lip to keep from laughing. “Now go to sleep, it’s been a long week.”

“Fine.” You mumble into the darkness as a yawn hits you right after. Soon your breaths become steady and calm as you both lay there for another thirty minutes. You are tired, it’s just, something keeps you awake that just can’t be satisfied if you keep going on like this.

“Hey.” You whisper, he gives a low hum in reply, “Buck, I forgot to tell you I have a cat.”

Opening an eye, he gently squeezes your stomach, “You have a cat? Y/N what....how...uh, where is this cat?

“I gave her to Morgan. So I guess she’s technically not mine anymore, I don’t know. Just felt like telling you that.”

“Thanks for sharing.”

“Anytime.”

The both of you go as silent as ghosts before erupting into a fit of giggles, he buries his face into your hair as his sweet laughter bounces off the walls of your room. Though soon enough does the both of your giggles die down to nothing more then the calming sounds of your breathing.

Your mind dwells with a growing fatigue though your body seems to want something else then slumber, sucking in a soft breath, you hum in thought before whispering, “Bucky.” Just to spark his curiosity.

“Yeah.”

“Uh,” Maybe you shouldn’t be asking this and just let him sleep, “how tired are you?” You ask him anyways.

He pauses for a moment before slowly answering with a mumbled, “Tired.”

You hum in acknowledgment, voice low as you answer him, “oh okay.” Immediately sparking his interest.

“Why?” Asks Bucky, intrigued with your slightly disappointed response.

“Nothing, you said you’re tired so we can sleep.”

Bucky’s head rises off of the pillow as he leans over you to try and look at your face, “Well now I wanna know so tell me.” States Bucky in curiosity before catching himself, eyes softer now, “Please.”

Sighing, you purse your lips together, knowing he’s still leaned against your shoulder but deciding to spill anyways as you half-sheepishly whisper, “I’m kinda horny.”

“Kinda?” Chuckles Bucky in an almost teasing manner as you snort.

“Listen you little shithead, I know we did it the other day but I haven’t had sex in five goddamn years give me a break for being a bit horny despite my sleepiness.” You sass, “I’m just, I’ve been feeling a lot of things since you’ve come back. And I yunno, didn’t wanna come off too strong at first so...uh...yeah.”

Bucky hums in thought, “Right, right....yeah.”

Maybe he is too tired? You let out a little huff of slight embarrassment before turning your head to face him better, “It’s just how I’m feeling right now but if you’re too tired that’s really fine with me okay Buc...oh uh...mhmm...” Your worries lost to the wind as his fingers begin slipping underneath your shirt, plush lips pressing feather light kisses against your neck to shut you up from your restless mind. His digits graze over your hardened nibble before Bucky pulls your body flush to his, stubbled chin pressed against your shoulder as he plants a tiny kiss there.

You smile into the darkness when his kisses trail up from from your shoulder to your neck and finally your cheek, he slowly turns you onto your back as his lips plant butterfly kisses all over your face as you begin chuckling at how undeniably adorable he’s being right now. Mhmm hmm you could get used to this.

His arms slip from out of your sleep shirt, soon trapping you to the bed as he hovers over your heavenly vessel, granting you with a plethora of lovely kisses all over your heated skin like he’s exploring you for the first time all over again. Your hands instinctively trail through his shortened dark locks while he draws your legs apart with his muscular torso, doing everything to further spark your growing excitment.

Tonight will indeed be wonderful.

——

Waking up from out of a decently pleasant slumber, you suck in a deep breath to awaken the senses for the day, hands feeling around the rumpled up sheets for your snuggle buddy only to find nothing but an empty bedside. He’s gotten unbelievably good at sneaking out of bed it’s honestly one of the most impressive things he can do.

Your eyes scan the semi-closed window shades to reveal a glowing darkness, it’s only 5:00am, and you know exactly where he’s gone off to even after keeping him up for half the night. Instantly you’ve slipped out of bed, not bothering to turn on the lights as you quietly wander down the hallway until you reach the living room.

Past the small kitchen, and to the left of the single lounge chair, there he is. Snoozing like a meaty log of pure muscle and Vibranium as he lays on a thin blanket flush against the hardware floor. Another blanket covering his lower half as he shifts a bit in his sleep, he’s restless. Your eyes soften at your lover, he’s been doing this recently since Steve left and the world sucked Bucky back into reality. You’ve had plenty of time to adjust of course, but for Bucky, he’s had three months since you two parted from the comfort of Wakanda to live in America as part-time Avengers.

Technically he’s only free from the government and jail time for that matter because he was pardoned by the president and thus was forced to agree upon attending mandated therapy for everything the Winter Soldier did in the past. While you on the other hand were pardoned for war crimes and your involvement with the terrorist organization Hydra because of your status as an Avenger.

Also you’re technically only still allowed to live in the United States because you live with Bucky, who is conveniently from America, so you get a free pass as long as you two plan on residing under the same roof. So it works out for you.

Suddenly his labored breaths quicken and a second later he jolts awake, now drawing himself into a seated position as little beads of sweat shine in the light of the glowing television screen that shows some unimportant sports game.

His chest rises and falls before his blue eyes blink back the vivid fuzziness of his latest nightmare, gaze slowly shifting over to you once he realizes another body is near him. When his irises catch you in the full glow of the tv, he immediately lowers his head in slight embarrassment.

“Did I wake you up again?” Mutters Bucky, almost sounding like he’s mad at himself for letting you find him like this once more.

Shaking your head, you swiftly move to seat yourself at his level before leaning your back against the lounge chair, “You never wake me up Bucky, I think I have a sixth sense for you or something cause when you leave I just know.” You chuckle lightly as he shifts himself closer to you, “Also I miss you next to me.”

His head presses against the corner of the chair as he leans down to leave a light kiss on your shoulder, “I’m sorry. I just.....I don’t want to startle you when I’m having a nightmare and wake up, well, like that.”

Turning to face him, you reach a comforting hand up to gently run it through his shortened dark hair, “You can’t scare me off that easily Barnes. I could probably be classified as the monster under your bed if we’re talking about scary things at night.”

He reveals the ghost of a smile while leaning into your touch, “I know Y/N, it’s just not fair that I do this more then I should. You shouldn’t have to wake up all alone after living like that for five fucking years....I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“oh James..” You whisper while scooting closer so that your bent knees are against his own, hand now snaked down so that you can intertwine your hands with his, “...it’s not your fault the nightmares are coming back. And as much as I miss having you near me, sometimes we all need our space when things get internally rough. I get it, believe me. But don’t ever feel sorry okay? You have nothing to say sorry for, at least not to me alright?”

Bucky nods, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze while he shows the flash of a smile, “Okay.” Whispers Bucky, eyes falling down to your intertwined fingers before he finds your gaze once more, “Let’s go to bed, the sun will be up soon and I have a therapy session today.”

“Therapy is good for you Bucky.”

He rolls his eyes as you laugh at his annoyed expression, “You are my therapy.” Protests your lover before standing and pulling you up with him.

Hugging his torso affectionately, you smirk up at him, “Wrong answer James.” Holding back a genuine grin, he simply leans down to press his lips against yours. Doing his best to shut you up from further mentioning his required therapy sessions that he absolutely loathes to attend. 

——

Hands stuffed deep within your jacket pockets, you wander in step with Bucky who brushes his right arm against yours every couple of steps on the cement sidewalk of Brooklyn. You patiently waited the full forty-five minute session for him, knowing all too well that the second he walked out of there and saw your beautiful face. He’d be significantly less grumpy then before, just as you’d suspected.

Turning your head to face him, he keeps looking straight ahead though he’s aware enough to know you’re about to say something about the session, “You didn’t mention the nightmares did you.” Bucky huffs, annoyed at getting so easily caught by your observant intellect about him. You can read him like a book.

“No.” A blunt answer, he knows there’s no point in lying. “She thinks I need to call more people. Be more social or something.....it’s stupid.” He grumbles to himself though your ears catch it all the same.

You hum in agreement, “Well it wouldn’t kill you to call Sam, I know he tries to text you sometimes...”

“Does he text you?”

“Yeah.” You reply before playfully nudging his arm, “And unlike you, I answer. He’s just a concerned friend, which is nice, you need those kind of people.”

“I don’t need anyone but you Y/N. I’m good, really.”

Rolling your eyes, you snort as he throws you a half offended look, “Babe, I love you. But it’s admittedly a good thing to have other friends other then me. I know this from experience as we both know, so, give him a call sometime okay? For me.”

“Ugh, fine.” He begrudgingly mutters, “But only for you, that’s it.” Smiling brightly at him, you’re about to add something else when the sounds of your friend Yori rings loud in the bustle of the city as he argues with his annoyance of a neighbor, Unique. Something about trash and putting it in the wrong bin.

Bucky soon comes to the rescue and quickly puts an end to the argument before Yori decides to throw hands and gets himself in trouble. The stubborn old man gives up on his yelling and soon Bucky is able to convince him to get lunch with the two of you.

To the sushi place you go.

“Nobody made it past 90 this week.” Says Yori sadly as you lean against Bucky’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of the newspaper that he’s holding in one hand while you use your chopsticks to stuff a chunk of sushi in your mouth.

“So young. Such a shame.” Mutters Bucky with a shake of his head while he takes another bite of his meal.

“You guys didn’t order the usual, huh? Feeling a little adventurous?” Smiles Leah as you take a sip of your water, she loves when you three come in during her shift. Honestly she’s heard a lot of your complaining over the last couple weeks, though it’s usually just about some city annoyance since you don’t want to scare her off with all the real shit you’ve dealt with. You’re trying to make friends after all.

You acknowledge her with a raise of your drink before setting it on the glass counter, “Oh yeah, I like to live a little on the wild side..” You add with a laugh, “..unfortunately I tend to drag them along with me.”

Yori nods, “I enjoy the adventure.” Before pointing to Bucky, “It’s him right here who is scared of getting his feet wet.”

Leah laughs at the adorably confused face of Bucky as he sends the old man a look while you snicker in amusement. “Yori.” Warns Bucky without an once of aggression while you give his shoulder a gentle squeeze of affection.

“What?” Protests Yori, “I am right and you know it. Y/N am I not right?”

“Oh, you’re definitely not wrong.” Bucky pouts as you give his stumbled cheek a light peck, eyes set back onto your delicious sushi as he pretends to be annoyed by you and and Yori’s teasing.

The three of you continue to chomp down on your weekly lunch days meal at the usual sushi spot for another minute longer. Yori’s eyes suddenly sparking with a thought that you know he’s absolutely not going to keep to himself.

“You know what?” Whispers Yori as he leans in closer to Bucky, quit obviously pointing a finger towards you though you simply ignore them as he continues, “You better treat your woman well okay? She’s a good one...Ah I have a perfect idea. You go on a date, like dancing or....or, bingo.” Suggests the old man as your smile grows.

Bucky’s brows furrow as he whispers back, “We’re already dating.”

Yori nods, “You misunderstand my point, you must keep the flame going always okay? Very important, very important. When was the last time you gave her flowers huh? Went to the park? Whooed her..”

“I bought her a plant.” Says Bucky defensively as he side eyes you, “I, I whoo her.”

The old man smiles, “Good, good. That’s how you keep them around for a long time. Don’t forget that, I know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m sure you do.” Mumbles Bucky as you suppress the urge to laugh at their adorable conversation about how to treat a significant other right. That significant other being you.

——

Seated crisscrossed on the wooden floor of yours and Bucky’s shared apartment, a single thin blanket underneath you, your eyes squint suspiciously at Bucky like you don’t believe a single thing he’s saying. He’s seated on a pillow across the small coffee table, raising a dark brow at you while he holds back a growing smirk.

Your eyes soon shift down to the board before slowly trailing over his forced stoic face, “Well, Mr. Barnes....you’re a strong captain I’ll admit. But I am a skilled sea traveler of my own. E7.” His blue irises flicker down to his board, expression shifting ever so slightly in irritation, you got him.

Biting his lip, his hands move from behind the plastic board of the game that you can’t see, “How about that.” States Bucky with a genuinely impressed nod, “You sunk my battleship.”

Instantly your hands ball into fists, “Yessss.” You whisper joyously as your eyes squint in happiness for your first ever win against the literal master of Battleship. “Ha ha sucker! I won! I fucking won!” You shout with passion as he leans back on one arm to watch you jump up into a theatrical victory dance. God he loves you so much. You dangerous little goofball.

Swinging your arm dramatically in a circle, you shake your hips before winding down your dramatics to wander on over to Bucky who’s still seated on the floor, shimmering blues never leaving yours. Smirking victoriously, you crouch down to meet his humored gaze, “I think I deserve a prize.....and by prize I mean you get me those gummy worm things from the corner store. I deserve it after all.”

He tilts his head, the corners of his mouth rising as his eyes flicker to your lips for a brief moment, “Do you now?” He smiles lovingly though a sudden mischief sparkles in his eyes.

“Yes. This was the first time I ever won so I definitely deserve some type of reward for my efforts.” You state justly, eyes narrowing as you add, “Or I will battle you, and I’m not talking about the game.”

Bucky tilts his head up, an alluring smile playing at his plush pink lips while his eyes flicker to your mouth once again, oh he is certainly not going to get you naked in an attempt at swaying your mind from those gummies. You’re an ex-assassin who deserves some damn gummies every once in awhile. And his ass is gonna get you them, it’s only fair after all.

“Y/N.” Coos Bucky in that sultry voice of his, metal hand reaching up to touch your beautiful face, but as his fingers come within an inch of your precious skin. You shoot a hand up to clasp against his in an iron grip, blue eyes immediately going big when you tuck and roll. Taking his whole body with you.

In the swift aftermath, you’re able to skillfully pin him to the ground with relative ease. Both your hands pressed firmly against his naked wrists as you lean your face mere inches from his own, “I warned you, didn’t I?” You tease playfully as he breaks out into an inviting grin.

“I have something else in mind that you’ll absolutely love.” Assures Bucky with a telling expression that does nothing to hide the lust that flashes through them.

“In that case, pin me to the floor. And I’m all yours for the evening.” You whisper slyly as he practically shivers underneath your touch, “But if I win, you gotta travel two blocks for those delicious bitches. Khorosho, lyubov' moya?” You add in your native tongue of Russian, translating to “okay, my love” before pressing your forehead against his, eyeing him up like a bull ready to fight.

Bucky lets out a little sigh, something between annoyance and pleasure, “Fine. But you’re going dow...” Your lips crash against his in a hot second of passion before you quickly pull away, letting go of his wrists as you move to stand in a defensive position nearby.

Slowly blinking, he lets out a little huff before pulling himself to his full height, eyes trailing over you as he raises a brow, “Now that wasn’t fair.”

You casually shrug, “What wasn’t fair? We made a deal Barnes.”

Bucky rolls his eyes at your teasing, “You know what I...okay, okay. We’re really doing this?”

You shrug at his adorable expression, “You either have to walk 2 blocks in the dark for my treat, or a night of undeniably fantastic sex is within your reach. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy it, it’s the principle of the thing here. So, I’m going to fight you James Buchanan Barnes.” Oh and you used his full name too, Bucky knows without a doubt, it’s on.

He reveals a little smirk at that, “Guess I don’t have much of a choice. Hmm alright hot stuff let’s do this.” Muses your lover as he draws his hands up into fists, ever so slowly approaching you like a wary predator to their opposing rival. Not so sure if this is going to be a fight he can win or not, well, it sure won’t be an easy one.

When he’s within arms reach, you swiftly duck under his swift jab to your right arm, shooting a leg out to push him away from you while your body twists around to meet him. “Cheap shot.” Mumbles Bucky, calculated gaze studying your every movement as you slowly wander closer to him.

Looking as innocent as ever, “I want some gummy worms, I’ll break you little man.” Accent dripping with every word, further arousing Bucky though he tries to play it off with a laugh and a shake of his head.

Soon the two of you engage in a swiftly heated battle of hand to hand combat showing your admittedly intense skills of what only a former assassin could display so fluidly. Your two bodies moving like seasoned dancers across the hardwood flooring of your apartment, though you’re surprisingly able to keep relatively quiet as he blocks your fists. Can’t disturb those pesky neighbors.

Bucky shifts left just as you narrowly scrape your right elbow against his shoulder with a high jab from your elbows desperate upper cut, you slide on the hardwood under the false presumption that he’s out of reach when his flesh arm swings out to catch you in your stomach with a loud hollow thud. Ouch!

Instantly your throat emits a strange squeak as you feel the air knocked out of your precious lungs, clearly you had not anticipated this turn of events and neither does Bucky who immediately looks like he just accidentally stepped on a puppies little paw. “Y/N!” Worries Bucky with wide eyes as you keep hunched over, trying to suck in some needed oxygen.

Pulling some air into your lungs, you pretend to hobble over to the couch like a beaten down boxer, “Mm hmgood, yep.” You rasp out, resting your upper half on the couch as Bucky quickly approaches your side. But before he’s able to lay a comforting hand onto your shoulder, you swing a decorative pillow right at his head.

The puffy fabric knocks him onto his ass, earning a surprised grunt in the process as you tower above him, smirking like a trickster goddess over a poor lost and lonely traveler. Bucky rubs his reddened cheek, brows furrowed as he whines, “Y/N.” Like a little child who just got something taken from them by another kid.

Smirking a satisfied grin, you kneel down to meet his level, raising up a hand to gently draw his chin upwards to face you better, “That hurt you dickhead.” You muse as Bucky pouts, “ Y/N, I didn’t mean too..”

“I know.” You chuckle, “Now make it better.” You slyly add with a suggestive implication in your tone that causes Bucky to raise a brow. Letting go of his stubbled chin, you seat yourself onto the floor, facing Bucky as he reaches his metal hand out to pull you in closer to him.

Just about shoulder to shoulder with him, he gently presses his Vibranium hand to your cheek before pulling your face closer to his, soon the two of you lock lips with one another as his other hand snakes around to pull you onto him.

Ever so gently do you follow him to the floor as he continues to passionately make out with you like there’s no tomorrow. Metal and flesh hand feeling you up from your breasts to your bum as you straddle your man, hands trailing through his shortened hair while he fully enjoys this new positioning and turn of events.

Bucky presses wet kisses all around your cheeks and lips while he begins nonchalantly unbuttoning your pants, clearly hoping this will continue further and that all thoughts of those delicious gummy worms are out the door. You won’t lie to yourself though, caging Bucky’s thick torso underneath your opened legs is an admittedly pleasant experience to say the least.

So when he snakes his hands up under your shirt and starts messaging your breasts through the fabric of your bra, your mind begins thinking of some other things a bit more important then some simple treat from the local corner store. He knows just how to turn his favorite lover into a pile of puddy with nothing more then his mouth and fingers. This little shithead isn’t even inside you yet, you’re not even naked for goodness sakes!

But alas, a bet is a bet, and you don’t like to lose. Smirking into the kiss, and holding back a moan as Bucky’s digits squeeze your soft breasts, you tug on his hair before pulling away from his pleasantly inviting lips. Earning a palpable pout of confusion from your man, who’s noticeably grown hard against your bum.

“Y/N?”

“Bucky.” You tease back, imitating his voice once again as he throws you a puzzled look, “Don’t give me that shit Barnes I know what you’re trying to do.”

“And what am I trying to do?” Sasses Bucky as he rests his hands onto either side of your hips.

You raise a brow down at him, “These shenanigans.”

Bucky smiles, head falling back onto the floor as he laughs, “That’s not, no I’m not doing any shenanigans I swear....I just, maybe I just want to show my girl how much I love her.” Replies Bucky, though you stay unconvinced.

“We had a deal remember?”

“Yeah well, none of us won so..”

“Oh really?” You challenge, “Then why are you on your back and I’m right here as the victorious one? Who by the way has earned her gummy worms fair and square James Buchanan Barnes.”

Bucky groans, “oh come on Y/N....I can’t go now. Have some pity on me please?”

“And why not?”

He gently gives your hips an affectionate squeeze, “Because, my beautiful she-wolf who I love so very much and cherish every day of my life forever and alw..”

“Get to the point I want those damn gummies.” You threaten with a stern look though he knows you don’t truly mean it of course, but he has successfully annoyed you. “What is the problem this time?”

Bucky throws you a sheepish grin as he takes one of your hands in his, “Because I’m hard.” Sincere and straight to the point.

Pursing your lips together in amused irritation, you remove his hand from your hip, “Well, you did that to yourself babe I can’t help how amazing I am just existing. Really get over yourself.” You playfully tease before standing above him as his eyes never once leave your beautiful face, “Those gummies aren’t going to buy themselves.”

Bucky sighs dramatically shaking his head as he whispers, “You’re a monster of the greatest evil.” Smiling like a lovestruck idiot despite his neutrally spoken words.

You chuckle, stepping over him to pick up a pillow, “That’s me. Now don’t give me a reason to show you my claws.”

He quickly rises to his full height, another fallen pillow in hand as he tries to hide his hardened member behind it like some shitty magic act, “I’m just, I’m gonna hold this pillow for you. Not important why.”

“Uh huh.” You muse as he watches you clean up Battleship, putting all the pieces away and into the particular box before shoving it underneath the couch. When you go to fold the furniture's decorative blanket, a knock is heard at the door.

“Not it.” Mutters Bucky as you throw him an annoyed glance, already aware of who this is by their familiar scent. You walk over to the door and open it as Bucky hides in the background, pillow still covering his tented crotch.

“Hello Mrs. Brego you need help with your windows again?” You speak in Italian to your neighbor from down the hall. The old woman smiles before giving you a little shake of her head indicating a no.

“No dear, just telling you there’s cops downstairs for that guy from Chicago I think, so if you plan on going out. I wouldn’t choose tonight, the whole lobby is filled with people I think he might have been into drugs.” Warns the sweet old woman as you slowly nod, knowing all to well that Bucky most certainly heard everything.

Faking a smile, you shrug, “Wasn’t planning on going out tonight anyways. Well, thanks again. See you when I see you.” She smiles brightly before turning to walk down the hallway and into her own apartment, you watch until she shuts her door just to make sure nothing bad happens on your time.

Feeling comfortable that’s she’s fine, you shut and lock the door, pursing your lips as you turn around to face a smirking Bucky. He’s still holding the pillow against his junk, but he looks incredibly full of himself standing there with that stupidly handsome face of his. Those eyes. That smile. His body......no, focus.

Bucky goes to open his mouth but before he can say something sarcastic you throw a hand up to stop him, “Not a word.” You deadpan before turning to walk down the hallway, stopping yourself to glance over your shoulder, “Give me five minutes and then you can come to bed. But you better be naked or else.”

Bucky snorts as you practically swagger down the short hallway and into your shared bedroom. Closing the door as you prepare yourself for a late night of adventuring each others bodies.

Oh tonight will be something indeed.

-

Tagged: @diegos-butt  @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94 @iamasimpingh0e @mjaudrey​   @thescarlettvvitch

[gothighunicorntolerance]

At last, my Big Bang fic!

When Roman and his friends go hiking, they expect to see some birds, some lizards, maybe a deer if they were lucky- not a hidden cave with a sleeping person inside, unable to be woken up by anyone. His friends decide to let the sleeping person stay put, but there’s some feeling Roman just can’t shake off. Red chapter one below, and the full fic on AO3, accompanied by amazing art by @littlebigmouse

taglist: @theimprobabledreamersworld @edupunkn00b @ts-storytime

AO3 link

art post

The tranquility of the forest was quickly interrupted by the banter of several people standing by a parked car, their faces illuminated by the pink-tinted full moon low on the horizon.

“Come at me, Mothman! I have a very juicy ass you would LOVE!”

“Remus, you IDIOT. Mothman lives in West Virginia!”

“Well what about the skunk ape, Virgil? Don't you want to see the Skunk Ape? SKUNK APE! SKUNK APE!” He chanted, his voice echoing in the parking lot.

“Remus, would you shut up?!” Roman shoved his brother. “We are actually going to try and find wildlife like deer and stuff, and that’s not going to happen if you keep shouting for cryptids to fuck you.”

The rest of the group sighed collectively at the antics of the twins, though Roman didn’t pay much attention to his friends’ groaning.

“Anyways,” Roman said louder than necessary. “Logan, you have the compass, right?”

“Of course. I also brought several yards of paracord, just in case. And also cereal bars, batteries, and water.”

“Thank you for being the responsible one,” Roman laughed. “Virgil, it’s your job to make sure that the entire state of Florida doesn’t find out that my brother is a monster fucker.”

Virgil groaned. “You know that’s going to be impossible.”

“Just punch him when you think he’s about to say something stupid.”

“Oh, like this?” Virgil smacked Remus in the arm.

“Ow!” Remus groaned.

“Well, I thought you were about to say something stupid.”

“Can we please just get on with our hiking-adventure-whatever you’re calling it?” Janus spoke up.

“Please.” Logan agreed.

“O-KAY! Into the woods!” Roman sang.

The five hikers walked down the small dirt path, the mud from last night’s storm splashing their ankles. The colors of the sunset were barely visible through the branches of the trees, which cast long shadows onto the ground and Roman still quietly humming all parts of the song by himself.

As Roman’s song ended, trailing off into the instrumental bits, Remus had finally shut up about various cryptids, and the only sounds were the squelching of mud sticking to their shoes and the occasional snap of a stick or crunch of a fallen leaf underfoot.

The May nights were cool and humid, so most days like this, Roman wore cheaper jeans and a hoodie that he was willing to throw away if it got too dirty or torn.

About half an hour into their adventure-hike, Logan silently passed around flashlights to everyone, which Roman gladly accepted. It had gotten dark quickly, to the point where Roman had been barely able to see his feet.

Suddenly, Virgil, who was in front, stopped.

“Deer,” he whispered, aiming his flashlight into the trees.

Roman followed the flashlight beam onto a huge buck, its pelt speckled with mud and antlers extending far beyond its ears.

“The inside spread is over twelve inches,” Logan whispered.

“That’s big, right?” Janus asked.

“Yes, it is. The largest recorded spread in the state of Florida was nineteen and a half inches.”

Roman knew that Remus was about to open his mouth and say something stupid, and apparently, so did Virgil, because Remus groaned again after he was hit in the shoulder, the rest of the group snickering.

The deer eventually ran away, and the group continued on until the dirt path ended.

“Hey, look at this!” Virgil waved the group over to where he was standing, shining his flashlight into a large opening in the side of a rockface.

Roman jogged over and looked into the cave- as far as the flashlight illuminated, he could see moss and other plants clinging to wet stone.

“I haven’t seen this before- I think I’d remember,” Janus commented.

“It must have been uncovered by erosion from the storm last night,” Logan added in.

“Let’s go in!” Roman and Remus said at the same time, grinning at each other. They might not agree on much, but when it came to deciding whether or not to explore a creepy-looking cave, the answer was always going to be yes.

“Don’t you think we should- never mind,” Virgil sighed as the twins started swinging their flashlights across the wet ground of the cave.

“Look at this!” Remus whisper-shouted to Roman, pointing out some kind of slime growing on a rock.

“That is disgusting, put it down or I’m not letting you in the car,” Roman said as Remus began to poke the slime.

Remus stuck his tongue out at his brother but reluctantly stopped poking the unfamiliar growth. Roman turned around to see that the rest of the group had followed them in.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Virgil asked worriedly. “I mean, this cave wasn’t here before, and we might be the first living things to step in here in maybe hundreds of years.”

“And this is how people find monster boyf- OW!” Virgil once again took it upon himself to hit Remus in the arm to stop him from talking about various cryptids in a non-child-friendly manner.

“Caves such as this one are particularly interesting because you never know what you might find- oh, look!” Logan pointed to another small opening at the back of the cave.

“I’m going to crawl through!” Roman declared after the group had spent a minute or so deciding what to do.

Roman got on his hands and knees and started to wedge himself through the opening, quite aware that he would likely have to put his clothes through more than one wash cycle to get the stains out. He bit down on the flashlight, illuminating what was in front of him, but only barely.

When there was finally room for Roman to stand, he turned and called through the opening, “I’m fine! You can come through, it’s safe!”

The second part of the cave was much wider than the first part, and Roman was able to stand without hunching over.

Swinging his flashlight across the ground, Roman suddenly gasped.

There was a man laying on the ground, hands folded across his chest, dressed in- were those robes?

“Guys…? You might want to see this…” Roman called out again, his voice shaking.

“Ro? Are you okay- HOLY SHIT!” Janus crawled through, his eyes wide with disbelief and perhaps a little fear.

Remus and Virgil came through next, Remus uncharacteristically silent, his mouth open in an ‘o.’

Logan was the last to crawl through, and he, like everyone else, stood silent, looking at the figure laying in the center of the cave, arms crossed over their chest and wings spread out- Roman rubbed his eyes. This couldn’t be real- he couldn’t have found some guy in a cave that hadn’t been touched in years!

Maybe they had gotten drunk or something and put on a very realistic-looking cosplay and then ran through the woods? Remus had done odder things, so it couldn’t be completely ruled out.

Janus slowly walked up to the figure, stepping over the silken blue robes and putting his hand on their neck, careful not to knock off the wire framed glasses.

“There’s a pulse, but it’s really faint.” Janus announced to the group. “They’re definitely not dead.” The hikers stepped closer to the sleeping person, forming a circle around them but careful to not touch the giant gray bird wings sprouting from their back. Roman noticed a strand of curly brown hair had fallen into their eyes, and resisted the urge to reach out and tuck the strand of hair behind their ear.

After a moment of silence, Roman spoke up. “Should we… try to wake them up? I mean, what else should we do?”

Roman was careful not to touch the sleeping person. Roman wouldn’t admit it, but he was afraid there would be some kind of horror movie scene- where as soon as he got close enough, they would sit up and try to murder him. Or something like that.

Logan crouched and tapped his phone, and the default alarm sound echoed through the cave. The person didn’t stir.

Virgil stepped up next, unscrewing the cap of his water bottle and pouring the contents onto their face. “Seriously? Nothing?” Virgil muttered.

“Let me try,” Janus said, grabbing the person’s shoulder and shaking them.

“Alright,” Remus said, stepping forward and rolling up his sleeve. He looked up at Roman, grinning, before bringing his arm down to the person’s face and slapping them on the cheek. Roman cringed at the echo it created, but there was still no reaction from them.

“How the fuck did that not work?” Remus stared at the still-sleeping person.

“Heavy sleeper?” Roman suggested.

“Coma?”

“Dead?”

“Are we about to be on Buzzfeed Unsolved?”

“Underlying medical condition?”

“Alright, it’s your turn, Prince Charming. Go do a true love’s kiss on the guy. You never know,” Remus laughed.

“No way! I’m not touching that guy with my finger, let alone my mouth!” Roman protested as Remus tried to drag him over.

Another beat of silence passed before Virgil spoke up. “I think we should leave. This dude’s probably not okay, and I don’t want to have to call the police or paramedics. I don’t want to get involved in anything, whether this guy is just stoned or in a coma or whatever.”

“Yeah.” Roman said after a minute of consideration. “You’re right. I don’t want to get involved. We should just- I dunno, leave the guy here? Maybe check later to see if they’re okay? I mean, they’re not dead.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, and soon crawled back out the way they came. Roman exited last, and couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder at the sleeping figure. A small part of him wanted to stay behind, try and wake them up.

But Roman ignored that feeling and left the cave with the rest of his group.

Once the group srood back on the path, all a little shaken or confused from what they had just seen, Roman said, “let’s all just go back home. If we want to, we’ll come back next week or whenever to make sure the guy’s either okay or gone, but for now just leave it alone.”

Roman said the last part for himself, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that he was missing something. He shook his head and followed Logan and Janus, who had already started walking back to the parking lot through the wet grass and still-sticky mud. Even in the dim light, Roman could tell the two of them were holding hands. Roman opened his mouth to tease the two of them but thought better of it. They had all just seen something pretty weird in that cave (Roman was still trying to decide what he really saw), and Logan and Janus hadn’t announced that they were together, probably for the exact reason that Roman would tease them.

Oh well, there would be plenty of moments for teasing later. For now, Roman just focused on dragging his feet along the muddy path back to the car, though he kept glancing over his shoulder. He told himself that it was to keep an eye on Remus and Virgil and make sure they were still behind him, but the nagging feeling that he had forgotten something still lingered.

[in-my-feels-probably]

INEFFABLE - Kaz Brekker

Chapter Thirteen

If you would like to read this on Wattpad, it’s on there as well, my @ is in_my_feels_probably and there’s a few visuals and better descriptions and stuff on there. otherwise, enjoy, let me know what you think, and you can check out my masterlist for updates and more. don’t forget to read the prologue, it’s important to the story!

INEFFABLE – Kaz Brekker

ineffable (adj.) too great to be expressed in words, utterly indescribable; too sacred to speak of. 

Chapter Thirteen

The Crows were ducked away in a shed, as safe as they could be for the moment. Kaz had emptied his pockets, placing everything he had on the table. A couple Ravkan coins and bills, and not much else.

Inej was grimacing. “Is this all we have left?”

She groaned, clutching her side, taking a deep breath. “Jesper, my bag.”

She pulled up her shirt to reveal a deep wound on her abdomen just as Jesper had turned around. He gagged, averting his eyes.

“Mother of Saints.”

Elham chuckled, helping Inej lean back against a stack of hay on the floor so she could have better access to the wound. She lowered her to the ground, helping hold her shirt up, not missing Kaz’s look of concern. She turned back to Inej, watching her grab things out of her bag.

“It’s not healing on its own. I need to stitch it.”

Elham glanced at Kaz and Jesper’s uneasy faces, giving them a grin.

“Don’t worry, I happen to specialize in stab wounds. Granted, I’m normally on the other side of them, but that’s alright, I’ve had enough sticks myself to know how to stitch them up.”

Kaz turned his head away as Elham threaded the needle, handing it to Inej. “How long before you can travel.”

Inej was quick to respond. “Not long. Where?”

“Ketterdam.”

Elham whipped around to face him, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Earlier, she was so sure that they’d either get the kruge, and she’d be safe from the Menagerie, or they wouldn’t make it back to Ketterdam, and it wouldn’t matter whether they got it or not. But to go back now, and empty handed, she would almost certainly have to go.

“Between our dwindling funds, lack of time, and conflicting interests, it’s time we cut our losses.”

He moved to go outside, and Elham called after him. “Kaz.”

He didn’t look at her, stepping out the door.

“Kaz!”

He was already gone.

Jesper scoffed. “I guess the Bastard misses the Barrel.”

Elham shook her head, willing the tears not to fall, turning her attention back to Inej. “Hey, love. Let’s get this fixed, yeah?”

Inej took a deep breath as Elham grabbed the needle, hooking it through her skin. She pulled the skin taught, trying to get it done as quickly as she could.

Jesper groaned, gagging, having to turn his head.

Inej scoffed. “You can watch a bullet tear through a man, but a needle’s too much.”

“It...yeah, well, you see, bullets are bam, in and out. That’s...just...ugh!"

Elham laughed, letting Inej take the needle and finish it up. Jesper was still groaning.

“Where’d you learn to do that?”

“When I was at the Menagerie.”

“Yeah, but why would you...oh. That’s dark.”

“Which is why I can’t go back.”

Elham’s smile fell from her face, her laughter dying. It was bad enough that Inej had to go through all of that pain, but now it was looking like she would have to as well. She knew she would be able to handle it, and even if she couldn’t, she would go on anyway. Heleen would get what was coming to her one way or another.

Elham swallowed. “You’re not going back. You know that.”

Inej’s eyes clouded, and Elham watched her try and fight tears. She quickly gave her a smile, grabbing her hand.

“It's ok, it's ok! We’re both gonna be fine, yeah? Right, Jesper?”

He tried his best to lighten the mood, but his face was full of pity, and Elham knew in that moment that Inej had told him about her deal with Heleen.

“Yeah, that's right, love. Inej, I bet if you told Kaz that story, I think he’d murder Heleen himself.”

Elham chuckled. “Saints, if he doesn’t, I will.”

---

It was nightfall now, and Inej was well enough to stand and move around. Elham led her outside, where Kaz was sitting on a wooden box, staring into the flames. She led Inej over, before taking a seat next to Kaz.

Inej stayed standing, handing Kaz his cane. “Jesper fixed your cane.”

He took it from her, bringing it close to him. He rested his hand on the Crows head. Elham noticed how he almost seemed more at ease with it, like it was another limb, in the same way that her sword was like another limb to her. And, Saints, did she miss her sword.

He said nothing, not even a thank you, and Elham gave him a look. He sighed, clenching his jaw. Inej turned back to head inside, when Kaz called after her.

“You were right.”

Inej turned back to him. “About what?”

“The Sun Summoner. You were right. She’s real. I played it over and over in my head. None of it’s a trick. The light was hers.”

“So, what? Kaz Brekker finally believes in Saints?”

“Hardly.”

“But you just said that--”

“I said Alina Starkov is a Grisha with the power to manipulate light. She’s a girl with a gift, not some savior of lore.”

“Fine. Kaz, if not Saints, what do you believe in?”

Kaz glanced at Elham, and she held her breath, meeting his gaze. He turned back to Inej.

“Myself.”

Inej scoffed. “Why’d I even ask?”

“And you. And Jesper...and Elham. My Crows.”

“Because we flock to your bidding? Like the animals of vengeance you named us after?”

Elham laughed quietly. “I happen to like crows.”

“Crows don’t just remember the faces of people who wronged them. They also remember those who were kind. They tell each other who to look after and who to watch out for.”

He was talking to Inej still, but he was looking at Elham.

Inej nodded at him, heading back inside. “Thank you, Kaz.”

And then she was gone. Elham was left next to Kaz. They sat in silence for a moment, before Kaz spoke up.

“I knew, you know.”

She faced him, and he was already looking at her. She felt her cheeks heat up under his stare. “Knew what?”

“That you’re a Grisha.”

Her eyes widened, and her face contorted with confusion. “What do you mean you knew?”

“Of course I knew. How could I not? I notice everything about you.”

Elham was hiding a smile now, eyes watering. “Like?”

He scoffed, exasperated.

“Like? Like everything. Like how you run warmer than everyone else. That was one of the first signs. That night I broke my leg, and you had to help me back to the Slat. Your hand touched the back of my neck, and you were warm. Unnaturally warm. I couldn’t figure it out then, but as I put the pieces together over time, it made sense. I guess that’s just another part of you being an Inferni, or just another thing different about your powers than the other Inferni.”

Elham felt a tear roll down her cheek.

“I think you being warm to the touch helps. When I touch people, and their skin touches mine, it’s like I’m back in the harbour with those bodies again. Cold. It’s so fucking cold, and it makes my skin crawl. It’s like rubbing against sandpaper. But when I touch you...it’s not like that. It’s still difficult for me, but not unbearable.”

She was in awe of his words, but he kept talking about the other things he noticed about her, rambling.

“Like how you like to rile Jesper up, just to get a reaction out of him. Like how you sit in that chair in my office in the most uncomfortable position you could possibly be in, just to spite me. Like how you were fearless when you offered yourself up in Inej’s place to Heleen, because you’re just that protective over your family. Like how you’re ruthless when you’re the Valkyrie.”

She could feel the tears streaming down her face, but she ignored it, listening..

“How could I not notice all of that? I mean, Saints, El, you’re...you’re--”

She caught her breath, asking. “I’m what?”

“You’re fucking ineffable.”

He took his cane and tapped the end of it to her ankle, the faintest smile on his face.

“I missed doing that.”

She felt a sob catch in her throat, and she quickly wiped at her eyes. Her mind was racing, she couldn’t think of the right words to say. He beat her to it.

He murmured. “I have something for you.”

He pulled a sword out from under the bench. She gasped as he picked it up and unsheathed it. It was absolutely beautiful. The hilt was pure matte black, with shining silver engraved all throughout. It was heavy in her hand, the weight familiar. She sheathed it, turning to him, in awe.

“I found it in the Darkling’s carriage, under one of the seats. Figured it was fitting for you to have it.”

Elham belted it around her waist, strapping it to her back through the harnessing on her back.

“Thank you, Kaz. I really missed having one.”

He almost grinned. “I needed my Valkyrie fully functional again. The Grisha power is a plus, but I’ve always preferred you with a sword. Now, what are you gonna name it?”

She turned to him, confused. “Name it?”

“All of the good swords have names.”

She nodded, pondering for a bit, before a smirk landed on her face.

Inej named her knives after her Saints, Elham would name her sword after her sins.

Afterall, she was no Saint.

“Wrath.”

Kaz scoffed, letting out a dark chuckle. “Wrath. I like it.”

She smiled at him again. “Thank you, Kaz. I mean it.”

He knew she wasn’t just talking about the sword, and that she meant thank you for everything. For sticking with her all those years, for giving her a place in the Dregs, for making her the Valkyrie. For everything.

He just nodded. “Come on, let’s go show Jesper your new sword. He’s a little scared of you with one, did you notice that?”

She giggled, and a grin appeared on her face. Kaz would never admit it, but he loved watching her happy like this.

“Oh, I know.”

---

A/N - i was so excited to write this chapter, it has some of my favorite stuff in it that i wanted to write. not entirely loving it, but it's decent i guess. we still have about an episode and a half of content left, a few more chapters to go. i wanted to get this one out because i know the last one was shorter. i hope y'all liked this chapter, let me know. thank you for the support!

[omgrachwrites]

The Princess and The Duke - Chapter Two

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: As the Princess of  Spain, you were always supposed to marry King James of England to make  an alliance between Spain and England. When he marries a woman at his  court for love, you are married off to his best friend, Sirius Black the  Duke of Bedford to keep the alliance. However, the court is riddled  with secrets and a rebel in the North starts to rise against the Throne.  Royal AU.

Warnings: fluff, teeny bit of angst, Spanish translated by using Google Translate :(

Words: 2431

Disclaimer(s): This gif does not belong to me and I’m so sorry if this Spanish is wrong.

Translation(s):  Su Alteza, espero que su estadía haya sido placentera - Your Highness, I hope your stay has been pleasant

Si, gracias. Tu hermano es un hombre muy amable, me impresiona tu español - Yes, thank you. Your brother is a kind man, your Spanish impresses me

A/N: Again, I’m so so sorry if this Spanish is wrong! Thank you so much for all the love on this fic already! Hope you guys enjoy this part and please let me know what you think and let me know if you would like to be tagged! I love you all! xxx

Chapter Two - Flowers in Your Hair

For the first month and a half that the Spanish Princess had been at the grand chateau in the countryside outside Paris, she had brought so much warmth and light to it. Sirius used to close the heavy curtains just after the sun had set but Y/N preferred to keep them open for much longer, only closing them just before she retired to bed. All the servants seemed to be delighted, now the chateau was always full of light whether it was warm yellow sunlight or the silver shine of the moon. Sirius had never seen the moon shine quite so beautifully.

Y/N was kind to the servants and they seemed to glow from her affectionate attention, though she hardly bestowed any warmth on Sirius – she wasn’t rude or anything  - but he expected that. It was why he wanted to wait a little while before they were married, Sirius hoped that they would grow to care for each other.

Sirius found her in the glass sun house, her pretty eyes fixed on a thick tome about myths and legends. He was contented with watching her for a few moments, her eyes moved across the page and she had a small smile on her face, “Your Highness,” he cleared his throat and she raised her graceful head to smile wanly at him, “I thought we might visit the village on the morrow so you can meet the townspeople.”

Y/N nodded as she played with the tresses of her hair, “I would like that, I would be happy to meet them. As long as I’m back for my siesta, I like having it beneath the apple tree.”

Sirius frowned a little as the new word rolled off her tongue; he knew that he should have learnt some Spanish in anticipation of her arrival. “I’m sorry, siesta? I’m not sure what that is,” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously and he saw the disappointment in her eyes.

“It’s a sleep in the day my dear brother,” a voice full of laughter called out. Sirius momentarily closed his eyes, fighting back a sigh as he turned to see his handsome younger brother at his side. Regulus really should have been properly announced, Sirius hated it when he just turned up like this, “and this must be the beautiful Princess Y/N,” he bowed and Y/N smiled at him graciously, “Su Alteza, espero que su estadía haya sido placentera,” he spoke in such perfect fluent Spanish that Sirius wanted to strangle him.

Y/N’s soft lips parted in surprise before she smiled and spoke back, “Si, gracias. Tu hermano es un hombre muy amable, me impresiona tu español “Yes,” Regulus grinned, reverting back to English and he clapped Sirius on the shoulder, “my dear brother is only fluent in French and English,” he laughed and Sirius felt his nostrils flare with anger but before he could remark, Y/N beat him to it.

She gave Regulus a sharp look, “I think that it’s rather impressive, I cannot speak any French,” she looked back over at Sirius and her face softened as she smiled at him.

Sirius beamed back at her, feeling his face flush with delight, Regulus held up his hands in mock defence before he backed away with a smirk on his face. Sirius smiled at Y/N as he walked towards her, “thank you, Your Highness.”

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, “nobody – especially those in your family – can take your skills and accomplishments away from you, remember that,” she paused as she smiled prettily at him, “I think that in view of the circumstances you’d better call me Y/N,” she giggled before she glided out of the sun house, leaving behind the sweet smell of roses.

They left early the next morning and rode beneath the perfect blue sky, Sirius had decided to take her the scenic route, he was sure that she’d like it. Y/N looked exceptionally beautiful and ethereal in a dress of green silk and a garland of spring flowers in her hair. The pair of them mostly rode in silence as YN marvelled at the beautiful French countryside, her face aglow with pleasure and joy.

“France is so beautiful,” she hesitated, “from what I’ve seen of it anyway, I think that I prefer this landscape to the one in England,” she smiled at him from where she was riding on her chestnut horse.

Sirius smiled and nodded, he loved the French countryside too, it had a beauty that the English countryside couldn’t achieve, “I agree but England is beautiful in its way. I’ll show you,” Y/N smiled as her cheeks flushed with delight and she rode a little bit faster.

When they were on the outskirts of the quaint little village, Y/N dismounted and walked in on foot, leading her horse. Sirius grinned down at her before he exchanged a look with his small troupe of guards who inclined their heads at him. The Duke followed suit and walked alongside his future bride as they entered the village together. Y/N radiated warmth as the townspeople called her name; the women blew kisses while the men shouted bawdy remarks.

Sirius admired Y/N as she talked to the townspeople, any other woman would have been cold to people who were beneath her, but not Y/N. She hugged the ladies and kissed the men on the cheeks and Sirius couldn’t help but feel proud. There was a little girl who was hiding shyly behind her mother so Y/N beamed beautifully at the girl as she crouched down so she was at the child’s level.

“Hello sweetheart, what’s your name?”

“Amelia,” the girl whispered, still hiding her face.

“Amelia, it’s a pleasure to meet you, my name is Y/N.”

Amelia nodded, smiling unsurely before thrusting a bunch of daises at Y/N, “these are for you.”

Y/N gasped in delight as she took the flowers, “thank you! They’re beautiful,” she smiled as she plucked a flower before placing it amongst Amelia’s auburn curls, “there, now you have flowers in your hair.”

“Just like you!” Amelia beamed before hugging Y/N.

Y/N giggled as she hugged the little girl tight. Sirius smiled as he watched the interaction between them, she would have made an amazing Queen. Y/N seemed to charm almost everyone – some of the villagers remained stony faced – and she didn’t seem too unaffected by the villagers who didn’t seem to be impressed.

Sirius and Y/N left the village when the sun was high in the sky and the air was balmy and stifling. Sirius helped Y/N onto her horse and they rode out of town, waving goodbye to the villagers. Sirius smiled over at Y/N in pride as they rode side by side on the forest path, it had been a successful day and Y/N had done incredibly well.

“You have the knack for this kind of thing Y/N.”

The Princess smiled at him as the springtime wind blew through her hair, “for as long as I can remember I’ve always been taught to be just and fair. You can’t rule with fear, the common people will never love you if they fear you and it’s much better to be loved than feared,” she sighed wistfully and all Sirius could do was gape at her. How was she even real?

It was a pleasant ride, Y/N seemed to enjoy the sight of the dappled sunlight as it filtered through the thicket of trees and she smiled at the noise of a nearby stream. When they rode beneath the cherry blossom trees Y/N made a small sound of delight as she looked up at the pink petals.

“This is beautiful; we have nothing like this in Spain.”

“They’re cherry blossom trees; soon this whole path will be pink from the fallen petals.”

Y/N sighed happily as she glanced back up at the pretty tree, “that would be a marvel to see.”

Sirius suddenly had the burning need to see cherry blossom petals carelessly caught in her tresses. The young man flushed and willed the yearning to go away. His bride was beautiful for certain but he didn’t want to rush anything.

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

You smiled in bliss as you walked down the bright sweet smelling corridor of the beautiful French chateau, you glanced through the huge windows at the world outside and you grinned as you saw the rolling hills washed with dazzling sunlight. You could find beauty in everything when you were happy – and you were – you wouldn’t have thought it was possible for you to be happy anywhere apart from Spain. You found it easy to be happy in France, Sirius was handsome and kind and his lands were beautiful. It was like a midsummers dream in the height of springtime.

However, you couldn’t help but almost resent Sirius though you knew that it wasn’t his fault. It felt like he had stolen your birth right away from you, even though he had no say in the matter and you had never wanted to be Queen. Perhaps you felt this way was because as soon as you got married to Sirius you wouldn’t be a Princess, for the first time in your life you wouldn’t be titled as a Princess. Maybe you resented him because there was a rumour that he had bastards all over England but that was none of your business, as long as he didn’t father any when you became his wife. You understood that men had needs that women were destroyed for.

Whatever the reason, you were trying to get over it because you didn’t want a marriage that was built on resentment. You wouldn’t have a marriage like your parents. It was warm and sweet smelling when you walked into your expansive chambers and saw Sofia standing by the steaming hot bath that was full of dried rose petals and dried herbs. Sofia smiled at you, her gorgeous blue eyes sparkling and you smiled back. Sofia was your very best friend, you were going to make sure that she married well but you also wanted her to marry for love.

You got undressed and thanked her as she helped you into the boiling hot bath, it felt like heaven and you sighed in contentment as her fingers gently combed through your hair as you lay back, closing your eyes.

“Did you have a pleasant time visiting the townspeople yesterday?” Sofia asked as she washed your hair.

You smiled and nodded, remembering how handsome Sirius had looked upon his white horse. He was a complete cliché, “I did, we left for the village so early that I didn’t want to wake you,” you apologised, “I wish you could have seen it Sofia, it was so beautiful and they were so nice,” you remembered the little girl, Amelia fondly.

“You were always so good at talking and connecting with the people as I recall, I always admired that about you.”

Sofia’s words were sweet but you sighed and fiddled with a rose petal, “my father taught me when I was a little girl.”

Sofia squeezed your shoulder, “I remember, you even managed to charm my Aunt and we all know what a battle-axe she is,” she giggled, making you smile, “but you can’t blame Sirius for the fact that you’re not the Queen, you never wanted it. You need to warm to him, he’s handsome and kind, and I’m certain that he’s got no bodies in his cellar. He’s only ever welcomed us; you’re lucky Y/N.

“I know,” you muttered, bringing your legs up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them before you turned around to look at your dear friend, “I promise that I’ll find you a good man who you will love and in return he will love you.”

Sofia’s eyes teared up as her olive skin deepened with a flush, “thank you, Your Highness.”

You and Sofia both peeked round the doorframe of the study to see Remus looking at Sirius with a worried look on his face while Sirius dragged a hand through his tangled hair and pressed his fingers against his temples. Sirius had asked you if you would meet him in his study after dinner, he had some news for you and you hoped that it wasn’t anything bad. You and Sofia exchanged worried glances as you swallowed and knocked against the doorframe.

“Sirius?” you called softly, not wanting to startle him.

Sirius rubbed a hand down his face as he looked up and smiled weakly at you worry was etched into his handsome face, “Y/N,” he looked at Remus, biting his lip, “Remus can you and Lady Sofia give us a moment?” at Sirius’ request you looked at Sofia who nodded with a flush on her face.

“Of course,” Remus smiled kindly as he offered Sofia his arm and he escorted her down the corridor, you hoped that Remus would show her around the gardens. The Earl of Warwick was a nice man.

You turned to look at Sirius who looked like he was about to cry and your heart melted just a little bit as you went to him and sat opposite him, placing a gentle hand on his arm, “what happened? What’s wrong?”

Sirius smiled at you but you could see how tired he was, “King James wrote to me, there’s news of trouble brewing in the North of England, it could just be rumours,” he sighed, “or something a lot worse. James wants Remus, Peter and I to meet secretly and discuss it before he goes to his council. He trusts us more than anyone on that damned council; this will be so much easier when we’re all at court.”

“Okay,” you wondered why he was telling you this and you were struck with hope, he respected you enough to tell you his troubles and that was certainly a start.

“I want you to meet with us; we all agree that a Princess of the Castile, a daughter of a Warrior King and Queen would be very beneficial. We will make your voice heard, we’ll have to meet as soon as possible,” he smiled and you felt a floaty feeling in your chest.

He would talk to the King’s council on your behalf because you both knew that they wouldn’t listen to you. He wanted your input, he cared about what you had to say and in that moment, that was everything to you, “thank you Sirius, you don’t know how much that means to me,” you beamed and in that moment you knew that Sofia was right. You were lucky, despite your circumstances.

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

@smiithys​ @elayneblack​ @amelie-black​ @siriuslyjanhvi​ @pregnant-piggy​ @lindatreb​ @mabelle-cherie​ @hxrgreeves​ @britishspidey​ @mads-bri​ @classicrocketqueen​ @sxtansqueen​ @hufflepuffzutara​ @missmulti​ @bruxa0007

[beskarberry]

Devil’s Advocate

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 5

(The Mandalorian x f!reader)

“That your girl over there?” Mando followed their gaze wordlessly, reluctant to make friends right now while he was busy waiting for you to call him back to your side. “Thought so.” The stranger took a long drag on an inhalant, blowing vibrant pink clouds into the smoky room. “Sorry for your loss, Elios always gets what he wants.” Mando turned again to the stranger, fixing them with his black hole glare, but they only shrugged; watching the drinking game unfold between you and the devil himself.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 11.2k whoops

Content warnings: VICES: gambling/smoking/drinking (reader drinks) Introduction of chapter-specific OC characters. Lots of angst to fluff, sexy times of course.

A/N: This might be more self indulgent than the first chapters but not because of the smut. I kinda go off about fancy clothes so long descriptions of costumes are a big chunk of this chapter.

<-Previous Next->

You hated everything about Canto Bight.

Everything about the city was so... artificial. The stadium flood lights, the glowing neon signs, even the ocean herself had been excavated from the planet’s stubborn sandstone surface instead of eroded naturally by the march of time. To you it was like looking at Corellia’s gold painted twin, a monument to the hubris of all sentient life.

 Even the patrons of the gilded city were fake; their clothes, their makeup, their personalities. Every aspect of them was perfectly curated to deceive and lie, whatever fanciful display would work best to cheat their way to the jackpot. You almost wished you could look past the falseness of it, experience the visual fanfare of light and color that reflected on every surface. You wanted the music and the art and the decor that had been so carefully picked and placed to mean something to you, to sparkle in your heart just as it sparkled in the eyes of the teeming masses. But, all for naught, the gleaming metropolis stung your eyes; and you turned away from it to admire the quaint little space that actually mattered to you.

 You shared the tight quarters of the cockpit with the two strange boys that had recently whisked you away to the stars. Mando was seated in the pilot's chair with his tiny green son perched in his lap, trying to get him to eat his dinner without making so much of a mess. You had already eaten, and you were turning the last hunter’s puck over in your hand, reluctant to get this chase started and take away from the familial scene beside you. It would have to happen sooner or later, and you gave the puck a squeeze to fire up the projector. A ghostly blue fog glowed up into the space above your palm, and the face that looked back at you was surprisingly fair; if not for his crimson skin and long black horns you wouldn’t have known he was Devaronian by his elegant features alone.

 Elios Blackwater was a dapper debonair, his high cheekbones angled sharply under devious eyes towards a sly, sharp toothed grin. The puck notes didn’t specify what he was wanted for, though from the looks of his charming smile and shifting eyes it could easily be anything from a gamblers quarrel to breaking hearts, with a higher reward for being returned alive rather than dead. He would most likely be in a heavily inhabited area, probably as close to Canto Bight’s aurelian heart as possible. You didn’t know why Mando had taken a bounty puck for such a densely populated world, and you would have loved to know what his plan was to get to the city’s casino center before you had arrived in his life. A pair of ragamuffin bounty hunters and their floating baby bucket would stick out like sore thumbs in this gilded mecca of gamblers. If you were going to get to your quarry without being arrested, you were going to have to blend in.

 “We’re going to have to do something about...this.” You said, waving your hand in front of your partner’s ferocious attire, though truthfully you weren’t dressed any more appropriately for the mission at hand. “They’ll see us coming a mile away.”

 He glanced down at himself with a tilt of his helmet, ignoring the mess his son was making of his meal. “What do you have in mind?”

 You weren’t entirely sure yet. From where the Crest was parked you could see the glittering city’s reflection sparkling on the water far ahead of you down the beach, a sight most would find alluring, but to you it was just harsh glare. Nearby where you had landed were other space craft parked up and down the gravelly, machine-carved beach; the pleasure cruisers of wealthy betters made your little scrapheap look even worse than it already did. You watched out the cockpit’s transperisteel window, noting the movement of patrons and their attending droids loading skiffs with piles of luggage, and got yourself a mighty fine idea.

"I think so, but you're probably not going to like it. Stay here." You rose from your seat and kissed the baby on the head, earning yourself a soft, mush-mouthed chirp before you slid down the ladder and let yourself out of the old rust bucket and into the salty sea air of the Cantonican night. Gravel crunched under your boots, and you took a moment to turn and glance back at the Crest, catching the faintest flicker of scope glare where Mando was nervously watching you from the flight deck. Ahead of you a large cruiser was being unloaded by droids, the owners having long since made their way to the casinos, and you made yourself known to the robotic servants with your most charming damsel-in-distress voice.

"Hello! Excuse me! My luggage is too heavy to carry, can you help me? It's just over here on my ship..." The droid nearest you made a stiff bowing motion and tottered after you with the loaded hoverskiff floating along behind. You guided the droid up the open ramp and into the bowels of the ship to where your difficult luggage lay. It never stood a chance, bits of wire and duraplast flew across the cabin like confetti from the blaster shot to its head. Mando lowered his gun back to his holster, freeing his hands to help you haul the skiff into the narrow cabin space, then quickly close the ramp behind you.

The sled took up most of the walking space in the ship, so you got up on top of it and began looting through the stolen designer bags, pulling resplendent finery out into the hazy light. The first tote was full of piles of silk sewn for something with more arms than the two of you put together, so most of those items were tossed to the floor. The second bag was just capes, each a unique and lovely pattern, but nothing more. You demolished the remaining bags, making piles on the floor for ‘maybes’ and ‘definitely-nots’ until you found what you were looking for: a humanoid woman’s clothes.

Most of the unknown lady’s elegant garments would be just slightly too big on you, but you were able to settle on a soft, garnet colored evening gown that would go just above your knees, with extra length in the back. It had a sloping neckline that plunged at your cleavage, and around the bell of the skirt were silver rhinestones that caught the light of the cabin like dewdrops, the weight of them giving the dress a wistful sway. You wouldn't be able to carry much in such a revealing article, but a blaster and a knife alone had gotten you out of more trouble than you would care to admit.

You were fishing through the feminine things for something to do about your hair when you caught Mando in the corner of your eye. He was leaning against the hull wall, just watching you as you made a fat mess of the Razor's interior. You smiled down at him from your floating perch and held up the fanciful garment that you had picked out for him to see. "You like it?"

"It doesn't suit you, mesh’la." He said with a lazy tilt of his helmet. You had begun to mentally keep track of all the Mando’a he used around you, and you were starting to notice his frequent use of affectionates. You spun slightly so he could get a good look at how the fabric moved in the light, but the hunter gear you currently had on took away from the loveliness of the expensive clothes. You guessed he preferred your killer garb anyway over the flimsy, delicate fabric. Or nothing at all.

"Well, it’ll have to do, and if you don't start picking something out for yourself I’m going to dress you up like a dandy.”

He sighed, long and tired before turning his attention to the silken pile on the floor. You went back to the luggage, finding some knee high boots that were close enough to your size, but had a heel height that was going to make your ankles cry. You picked out some tasteless accessories: some bracelets, and big, jewel-encrusted hair pins to wear as well. The glitzier that you were, the less you would be noticed in this bass-ackward town. When you had made your frivolous selections you hopped off the skiff to help Mando with his costume. He was worse at finding something to wear than you were, having only picked out some of his own black leather gloves and two pairs of pants that were not made for human legs. Mandalorian armor did not come off as far as your metal man was concerned, and you were going to have to find a way to hide his bulk. You convinced him to lose his cloak, chest belts, and the bandoliers on his hips and boots, anything to lighten the load. Loose silks and stiff fiber combos would be your best friend, and you cobbled together what you could for your beskar-burdened buddy.

After what seemed like an eternity you had him dressed to the nines, or at least the eights. You had covered his chest plate in a black silk shirt and stiff black vest. The shirt had wide bottomed sleeves and neat, tight cuffs that hid his vambraces well, but you still made him wear a cinched-waist blazer plus a long, black and silver cape that almost reached the floor. You found a dark red pocket square that matched your dress and tucked it into the pocket of his vest, a subtle, but unmistakable announcement to the world that he was there with you. It was a ridiculous amount of fabric on top of an already massive mountain of metal, but the look was very in-style for Canto Bight. All together he actually passed for something besides a murder machine, and you gave yourself a mental pat on the back for a job well done. Mando held still for you while you fussed with his outfit with only the occasional huff. As much as he didn't like the idea of walking so boldly through the gilded city, he did enjoy your brazen touch each time you added another article of clothing.

“And now for the finishing touch.” There was nothing you could do about his helmet, so you were just going to have to make it look as nice as you could. You hadn’t changed into your chosen disguise yet, so you strode through the messy cabin with ease until you reached the lock box next to the cot. Inside you found the krayt’s teeth that you had gifted him and pulled them out into the light, waving them at him as you stretched over the heaps of fabric on the ground. He raised his hands in protest.

“What if I lose them?”

“You can wear these or you can wear whatever the hell this is.” You held up an enormous chain of jewels that looked like it belonged in the treasure case at an arcade instead of around somebody's neck. “Besides, I know you won't lose them, you like them too much.” He tilted his helmet at you with disdain, and you realized that was precisely the reason he didn’t want to wear them, such lovely gifts should be kept safe and secure. But he let you press the precious trinkets into the recess of his helmet where his human cheeks would be anyway. The frozen pools of moonlight tied everything about his sin-city look into a perfect, glittery bow. You had grown to admire the look of him in his cultural armor, the ferocity of it, the utility and strength of the beskar that shined no matter how much damage it took; and you were a bit sad to see it hidden. The look of the man standing before you had a wildly different feel, though it was not one you were opposed to.

“You look nice, Din.” The sound of his own name coming from your lips made his heart swell, and he reached out for your hand on instinct to pull your knuckles to his brow in the sweet gesture of his people that you both now used. His movements caused the finery he was masquerading in to catch the cabin’s hazy light, and you got excited to put on your own costume and join him in looking like a fool. When he let your hand fall, you bounded over to your pile, throwing the hunting clothes off of yourself as you went. When you were standing there in nothing but your Tattooinian muck boots you cast a sly glance over your shoulder. As expected, the single black eye of your Mandalorian was locked on your almost-naked form, and you realized that in the time you had been together he had never seen you fully naked; just the parts of you he needed to get to in the moment. “How’s this? You like this better?”

When he didn’t answer right away you looked down at yourself and saw what he was staring at. You had forgotten about the marks of conquest he had put there when he had been driven to a sexual frenzy by the last quarry’s poison, still dotting your thighs with dark purple splotches. Not once had you been upset with him for his actions, you were just thankful you both made it through the ordeal alive, but he still looked at the damning marks with shame. He had been forced to break his protector’s oath against his will, inflicting injury to your precious body with his own two hands. You waited until his visor made its way back up to meet your eyes, and you reached out for him to give you his hand. He sheepishly obeyed, and you brought his hand to your lips, kissing at the all-black leather slowly until you heard him sigh through his modulator. You would forgive him a hundred times if you had to, and then a hundred more if it meant he could forgive himself. You pulled his hands to your waist and leaned up against him, enjoying the feel of new clothes on your skin and letting your hands run up his silken arms. “Well you can have this,” You nodded down at your bare everything with a mischievous grin, “As soon as we catch this fucko.” 

This was the last bounty you would need before you made the trip back to Nevarro, but you were still on the fence about how completing your mission made you feel. On one hand you would be free of the Guild’s relentless hunters, but on the other your partnership with the strange metal man and his adorable beanbag of a son would come to a close. You turned back to your outfit and began cinching a pair of thigh holsters to your legs, hiding your wincing face as the leather closed around your bruises; a blaster on one leg and a knife on the other. You pulled on the dress and fixed up your hair as best you could, then stepped out of your good boots and into the slutty knee-highs. There was only one loose end to take care of.

 “Where’s baby?” You glanced around the messy cabin, looking for your foundling. In the corner under a pile of capes there was movement, and you cleared the flashy finery away to reveal your bestest little friend. Big, glittering orbs looked up at you from the pile of fabric, and a tiny toothy grin shined from his cute baby face. “Heya booger, you ready to go?” You scooped him up in your arms for a hug before picking a big shiny scarf up to wrap him up with, then placed him carefully down in one of the gaudy designer bags. “If anyone asks, he is a pet.” The child didn’t seem to care, he was just happy to be included, waving his little pudgy baby hands up at you to hold. You squeezed his tiny paw, then turned to Mando, “You ready to go, Lord Beskar?”

He glanced down at himself, tilting his palms up and shrugging. “I guess so, I feel ridiculous.”

“Good enough!” You made for the exit ramp with a big stride, and almost broke your damn ankle on the first step, falling gracelessly into the arms of your partner. He caught you with ease, and your cheeks went red with his strong, gentle hands on you again for the hundredth time. You got to your feet, but you would be leaning heavily on him for most of the night until the boots were broken in. With you hanging off of his arm the two of you looked like a proper couple, just heading out for a night on the town instead of two bloodthirsty bounty hunters on the prowl. You might let yourself pretend though, just for the night.

You took a transport speeder from the beach to the city’s entrance, then made your way through the gilded streets, following the red blink of the bounty fob towards your quarry. You had to stop multiple times, the fucking boots making your feet hurt like you knew they would. Mando stood patiently with you each time, and more than once offered to just carry you. His visor would glide from side to side, always on the alert for anyone that might be following you, or worse, hunting you down. The tracking fob led you to the most obvious choice of casino: the tallest, brightest, shiniest temple of vice smack dab in the city’s center. 

The front entryway was dominated by a roaring, gushing fountain, shooting geysers in a perfectly timed pattern high into the Cantonican night sky. The fountain was lit up with bright, multicolored spotlights so that every stream of water and drop of spray glittered back in defiance of the stars that had inspired them. Inside, the casino floor was packed with patrons, ranging in size and species in an infinite array of wealth and power. Chandeliers hung high above you from the soaring cathedral ceilings, sending sparkling lights racing around the endless room like shooting stars. Every surface was bright and gleaming, dozens of pillars and statues illuminated by blinding limelight. Even the floor was magnificent, black and white marble with huge inlaid stars, guiding gamblers through the limitless space towards their wildest desires. Again you wished you could appreciate the extravagance of it all, though the way the lights streamed like mercury over the beskar of your pretend date made something else sparkle behind your eyes. 

 The smell of inhalants and alcohol burned in your nose, and you took a moment to make sure your purse puppy’s face was covered with something so he wouldn’t have to endure it as much as you were. The sound of gamblers and music and roaring competition was louder than the screams of the hyperspace engine aboard the Crest, the cacophony of it all making you anxious. You were thankful that you weren’t hunting this bounty alone, and you still held on to Mando tightly, letting him lead you over the cosmic marble floor through the streaming masses. The people paid you no mind, moving out of the way without casting a second glance. Your costumes were working exactly as you had intended, and you applauded yourself for how well you had deceived the City of Lies.

You had guessed that if your bounty would be anywhere, it would be at the center of attention, and you were right. Elios Blackwater sat at the atrium bar, surrounded by beautiful and interesting people. The glint of gold jewelry caught the radiant casino lights every time he moved, drawing the eyes of all those around him. He was telling some kind of wild story that had his little crowd hooked on every word, though you could tell from a distance he was all bullshit. Immediately you knew this was a man that was used to having everything he desired, never being denied a single whim in all his days. A plan began to simmer in your skull, and you knew right away your partner was not going to like it. If you were going to get the quarry alone, you were going to have to persuade him to leave the company of his fans, and you only knew one sure-fire method for a man of Blackwater’s tastes. You let yourself off of your escorts’ arm to turn and face him, pulling his hands to your hips and letting your own rest on his shoulders so that to any outsiders you two would be just another pair of passionate dancers making their way through the counterfeit cosmos. 

“Mando, do you trust me?” His hidden eyes were still glancing around the room, scanning for any lurking threats.

“Of course.” His words went right over your head, his ears too full of the sounds of potential danger to really hear you. You huffed and ran your hands to his bedazzled helmet, pulling it down to meet your eyes. 

“Pay attention, bucket boy. I need to hear you say it and know that you mean it. Do you trust me?”  He cocked his head, confused that you would have to ask twice. 

“Yes, ner cyar’ika, I trust you.”

“Good.” You let your hands fall back to his armored shoulders, pressing yourself up against him tighter. Your fingers fidgeted in the heavy material of his cloak, he was going to hate this. “Because I need to do something. Alone.” 

That got his attention fast. 

“No, it’s too dangerous here. I want you where I can protect you. What if there’s hunters?”

“I know, I need you to cover me, but from a distance. I think I can convince Elios to walk right into the carbonite freezer, but I can’t do it with you looming over me.” You wrapped your hands around the back of his helmet, pulling him down so that his forehead met with yours. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t think it would work.” He sighed between your hands, the steam of his breath slipping out from under the helmet’s edge. There was nothing he would rather not do than be away from you, but he did trust you, and he nodded against your embrace.

“I’ll call for you as soon as I’m ready, ok? Just keep your eyes on me, and don’t cause a scene. No matter what.” You couldn’t kiss him like you wanted to, but you still pressed your lips to the side of his beskar before letting go, pulling yourself away from his tender grasp. His hands still floated in the space where you had been as you turned away from him and made your way to the bar, the heavy purse bumping against your weaponized thighs with every flint and tinder step of your sky high heels. As you got closer to the bounty you could hear the shreds of his conversation starting to make their way over the noise of the casino.

“...And I said ‘Darlin’ if you didn’t want to take it home with you, ya shouldn’t have put it in your mouth!” The way he was telling his story gave you the impression that it wasn’t one you wanted to hear, and you started to regret your foolhardy plan. Gold rings and precious jewels sparkled all the way from his fingers to the caps on his horns, making it impossible for most to look away, a fact made apparent by his captivated audience. The beautiful boozers laughed and cheered at his every word, though from his stupidass sounding story you wondered how much of the affection was alcohol induced. You pulled a seat up at the bar a few stools away from the crowd and ordered yourself a shot of spotchka and a couple packs of cookies. You slipped the snacks into your bag for Din’s foundling, you would be needing him for your plan to work as well; and the promise of treats would keep his bright-eyed attention on you. 

The taste of spotchka was vile, but you had started your journey though the galaxy on the gigantic starcruisers that were built on your homeworld of Corellia, and you had gotten to know the taste of the sailor-favorite drink at a tender age. You sipped at your brew, listening casually to the Devaronian’s conversation, but never turned your eyes to him. Every once in a while another bar patron would swagger up beside you to offer you another shot. You turned down anything you didn’t order yourself, but you started telling them fabricated stories about your life among the stars, most of which were wild tales of fancy from old holovids you had seen. You wished you could turn around and find your favorite rust bucket, wherever he may be hiding among the festivities, and give him something to reassure him. A nod or a wave, anything to let him know you weren’t just making him jealous on purpose. 

Soon you were throwing back brightly glowing shots of brew, and a handful of interested patrons had gathered around you to hear about how you had jerry-rigged a star cruiser to run on spotchka when you were a space pirate smuggling kyber crystals for the resistance, among other things. When you had your head tilted back you cast a glance towards the bounty, and saw what you had been waiting for. His hooded eyes were watching you intently, he didn’t like that someone was getting any of the attention pie that he believed was his alone, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he had to do something about it. Soon enough the dapper devil rose from his entourage, running a painted claw through his long dark hair before making his way to you, sauntering with every step.

Hook.

“Well hello there, darlin’, name’s Elios. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing chugging spotchka when you could be drinkin’ something as fine as you are?” The debonair’s words were long and slow, making sure that every drawn syllable would be heard. “Bartender! Get this lovely lady a real drink, if ya please.” You weren’t sure what counted as a ‘real drink’, but the dark liquid that was slid over to you stank even worse than spotchka with the strength of its proof. Elios couldn’t stand that someone else might be having more fun than he was, and he was determined to put you out of commission. He wanted to do it in such a way that you would be thanking him for it, preferably while on your knees. “What’s yer name, baby cakes?”

From the other side of the busy casino you could feel the void of a visor making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Mando was standing on the far side of the slot machines where the light was just a little less glaring, so motionless he might have been part of the decorations. He wasn’t sure what your plan was, or how you would talk the quarry into being captured without gaining the suspicion of the wandering security enforcers. He bristled whenever a bar patron started trying to make nice with you, and only got progressively more frustrated when more and more started hanging around you. When he saw the bounty slink his way over to you he wanted to dash across the marble floor and break his fucking neck just for being in your airspace. ‘Don’t make a scene, no matter what’ is what you had told him, and you had asked him to trust you. So he did as he was asked. Watching, waiting.

“Hmm, I don’t think you could handle it.” Oh, Elios didn’t like that one bit, nobody told Mr. Blackwater ‘no’ without consequences. He swirled a glass of the same dark liquid around in one perfectly manicured hand, his polished claws clicking on the side of the glass. You continued to ignore him, but you started on the new drink in front of you. Yucky, at least spotchka was familiar. He took your acceptance of the drink as an invitation to join you at the bar. 

“You’re awful sly, baby cakes, tell me yer name so I can make you forget it later.” His pointed teeth flashed out from his crooked smile, and you could smell the stench of expensive cologne and aftershave. You rolled your eyes big and wide so he could see just how unimpressed you were, but your nose was burning from how bad he smelled. This was a bad idea, but only because of how well it was going to work. Fresher soap, where are you?

“I’ll tell you what, if you can out-drink me, I’ll tell you my name.” His wicked smile split his face, showing off rows of brilliant white fangs. Party-boy could probably hold a few good shots, but you were raised by sailors, and you were gonna drink his ass under the table. 

“You’re on, sweet cheeks. Bartender! Another round!” Another set of shot glasses plinked to the counter, and vanished just as fast. Elios was eyeing you up and down, seeing if you were all bark and no bite. If he could just get you drunk enough…

Far from where you were drinking the Mandalorian you had asked to trust in you was furious, trying not to thumb the handle of his blaster that poked out from the side of his hip under his cloak. It would be so easy, he could hit the target from here and it would be over, you would be back by his side and not being drooled over by that fucking pathetic excuse for a man. 

“He has that effect on people.”

Mando’s helmet snapped on the sounds’ source, so lost in vicious thoughts that he didn’t hear the stranger come to lean against the wall by him. They were tall and thin, translucent green skin and a mop of hair-like cilia growing from their head to their flowy chiffon clothes. They looked exhausted. “That your girl over there?” Mando followed their gaze wordlessly, reluctant to make friends right now while he was busy waiting for you to call him back to your side. “Thought so.” The stranger took a long drag on an inhalant, blowing vibrant pink clouds into the smoky room. “Sorry for your loss, Elios always gets what he wants.” Mando turned again to the stranger, fixing them with his black hole glare, but they only shrugged; watching the drinking game unfold between you and the devil himself. 

“Another!” You hollered, but the glasses were already in front of you, then gone again. The Devaronian hissed back the sting of the high-dollar liquor, shaking his long mane that had started to come undone. You pretended to reel from the liquor's effects, leaning back just a tad too far on your seat. “Again!” The third round of shots came and went, and Elios nearly fell off his stool. Right where I want you. You waved at the bartender for the fourth and final shot that would probably put the devil right on his ass, but that’s not where you were headed with this show of tenacity. You had to get him alone before you made your capture, or the security enforcers that littered the casino floor would descend on you like vultures. 

You waited til he had thrown his drink back before you tilted yours, purposely spilling a few drops down your front so the booze would trickle down between your breasts. Elios nearly choked, and you knew you had his full, undivided attention. Din, I’m so sorry.

“Woo! I don’t think I can do any more, Mister Blackwater, you win.” you feigned, holding the back of your hand up to your forehead, trying to convince him that the room was spinning for both of you and not just him. His sultry laugh made your skin crawl.

“Please, call me Elios.”

Line.

“Well, Elios, you still wanna know my name? You’re gonna have to work for it.” You placed a hand on his leg, running your fingers up his thigh and around the edge of his waist, pulling at his pockets seductively to drive the point home. Does he have SCALES? What the fuck ew ew ew. He took the hint like a drunk takes to spotchka, flashing you a slurred smile. 

“Well… sugar lips, we can take this... elsewhere.” 

“Sure thing, Elios, lemme just have my attendant take my Poochie up to my room.” You held the heavy purse up so he could see the big black eyes hiding in its depths. 

“What the fuck is that thing?”

“He’s a pet, obviously.”

“What kind’a fuckin’ pet?”

“Purebred.” Your quick answer seemed good enough for Mr. Drinky, and he nodded like that made perfect sense. You raised your fist to the air and snapped your fingers.

The human fortress was at your side in a heartbeat, towering above the two of you. You stuffed the purse in his hands before he could ask where to point his gun. “Here, take Poochums up to my room, mama’s not coming home tonight, if y’know what I mean. Get him washed and fed, and don’t forget to scrub his feet!” 

“Yes Ma’am.” The bag was lifted carefully from your fake-drunk hands, and you tried to flash him your best ‘Please-don’t-be-mad-at-me-I-hate-this-too’ face at your partner, but you guessed the look was lost on his visor. The scene did not escape Elios’s eyes like you had hoped it would. 

“Now what in the Mmmmaker’s Mammaries is that big ass fuckin’ thing? That some kinda droid? It’s damn fancy.” Shit balls of hell.

“Uh.. Yes! This is the finest in personal assistant droid technology! See, look.” You grabbed Mando’s empty arm and pulled back sharply on the fabric, revealing the delicate button panel of his vambrace. “Only the best money could buy...” 

“I gotta get me one of those...” Elios stared bewildered as your personal petsitting droid turned and left. “Well, honey tits, you wanna take this upstairs?” Ugh.

“Oh suurrre… Oh Mr. Blackwater I’m ~soooo~ drunk ahaha…” You were barely buzzed, and you worried that your life among the stars had given your liver bigger balls than a bounty hunter. You wobbled on your stool, for phase two of your plan to work you would have to delay Elios as long as possible. You watched as the man whose heart you had stolen faded away from you, the fancy purse hooped over his shoulder and knocking up against his leg, cape billowing behind him as he went. Alright, Baby Beans, it’s up to you now!

Din was seething under his helmet, pissed as shit that this was what your elaborate ‘plan’ entailed. He was trying not to storm through the casino as he left to take your ‘Poochums’ up to your room, whatever the hell that fucking meant. How could he be so fucking stupid? This was exactly the same ruse you had tried to pull on him from day one. Seduction was your real talent, luring your lovers to their untimely demise. How many times had you pulled this stunt? Was this your master plan all along? Ouch. Play with his heart until you were free of your Guild warrant? Ow. You were just using him to get to Nevarro, then you would fuck off to the stars and leave him behind. After everything you had been through, he was just another notch on your bedp- 

“OUCH!” 

Din looked down to his side where the pain he was trying to ignore was coming from, and saw a fat green paw sticking out of the ugly expensive purse, digging vicious talons into the side of his leg. His foundling was trying to burrow through his thigh, and his claws might actually have drawn blood. “What, womp rat? What do you want?” There was something in the baby’s other hand, something golden and flashy. Din reached into the bag and pulled the embossed card from his son’s grasp. What’s this? There was a set of numbers etched in gold filigree in the top of the card, their shimmer blasting away the destructive void he had been spiraling into.

Key card! PENTHOUSE key card! You had tricked the bounty into getting close enough to you that you could pick his pocket without him noticing. You were luring Elios right into a trap, and your Mandalorian was the snare. Din felt a mix of emotion ranging from relief to shame, how could he even think for one second that you might be deceiving him? You had asked him to trust you, and he couldn’t even contain his jealousy long enough to make it through one hunt. He felt like such an ass, you were putting your skills to good use, at great risk to your own safety, just like he had asked you to from the beginning. This wasn’t just his hunt anymore, it was a joint effort between the two of you, and it was his turn to run the next leg of the relay. The heavy, silver-laced cloak was tossed to the side as he raced to the elevator, fluttering away behind him as he flew to beat you there.

Meanwhile, you were trying to keep the bounty from falling flat on his face, and the only way to do that was to hold him up yourself. His hands were all over you, the nick of sharp, neat claws catching on the fabric of your evening dress and scratching along your skin. I’m gonna break those fingers, motherfucker. He was slurring his words, making disgusting promises of what he was gonna do to you when you reached his private penthouse. You were just out of range of his boozehole, the lippy thing trying to steal a taste of you. Wobbly steps slowed you both down to almost a crawl, which was exactly what you were trying to do, anything to give Mando time to find the hotel room first. You passed a discarded cloak on the floor, the familiar silver inlay catching the light, and you worried that you might have pushed your partner too far. What if he left? What if he didn’t see the keycard and I’m heading up alone? Please be there, Din. Please don’t leave me with this fucking creep. You both reached the elevator, and Elios fumbled to find his wallet, thankfully having a spare key that he didn’t know he needed. The doors opened, and you realized you would be stuck in your own personal hell for the entire trip up to the top floor suite. Fucking super. 

Elios was getting impatient during the ride up, and it took every fiber of your being to keep from retching as his well-moisturized hands ran up and down your spine. The elevator door opened directly into the penthouse, and his perfectly manicured claws dug into your ass to usher you into the room. The top floor suite was dark, save for the lights of Canto Bight shining in through the cathedral windows. You took a mental note of the speeder parked out on the balcony, you would be needing it later. The Devaronian was at your ear, breathing hot, boozy steam around your neck until he was facing you. He went to bite at your mouth, but you stopped him with a finger to his lips.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." You whispered in your most convincing lust-laden voice. The devil chuckled and ran his slimy, forked tongue around the halting digit. Barf.

"Oh yeah, baby cakes? Why’s that?"

You batted your eyelashes and bit your lip into a wry smile before meeting his half-lidded eyes. "Because... you're going to make Daddy very angry."

His lips turned upwards in an aroused sneer, flashing his dazzling, daggerlike teeth, "How could getting a taste of that fiery little mouth’a yours make me angry, darlin’?"

Sinker.

"I'm not talking about you, I'm talking about him."

Elios didn't even have a chance to turn around to see where your eyes were looking before a black and silver fist broke his nose and sent his perfect teeth soaring across the room, throwing him down to the marble floor. Seeing his busted prettyboy face bleeding at your feet made you feel so relieved that a vicious shiver made its way from your head to your toes, and you let your body shake the devil’s touch off of you like a big wet bantha.

"Fuck! Oh fucking hell, Mando, you have -no idea- how hard it was to keep that up, he’s so gross! I’m gonna chuck his ass in carbonite so fucking hard his horns’ll break off!" Your partner was still squared up, just waiting for the interloper to try and get up and fight. He wanted the bounty to get up, flail, scream, any excuse to hit him again. But Blackwater was out cold, staining the white marble floor with his blood.

"You looked like you were handling it."

The deadpan tone of his voice told you that wasn't exactly a compliment, remembering the jealousy that had seethed out of him on Tatooine after that Trandoshan had tried to capture you. You had two choices: you could either try to defend yourself and your unconventional bounty catching method, or you could turn that jealousy in your favor. He didn’t remember much from his toxic encounter with the Ardennian, but you knew that every filthy, possessive thing he had said to you that night was still somewhere in that chrome dome of his; and you became determined to bring them to the light. You crossed one arm over your chest, raising the other to tap a finger against the corner of your lips.

"Oh? You didn't like that, did you? Didn't like that he had his hands on me? Touching things that don’t belong to him?" He didn't answer, but the creaking of leather from his fists tightening told you what you already knew. "Tell me, Mando."

"N-no." His visor remained fixed on the unconscious body still bleeding on the floor. Not good enough.

"No what?"

"No. I didn't like that." His voice was low and raspy, but only because he was trying to keep the boiling rage in his chest from blowing his fucking helmet off.

"Tell me what you didn't like." You stepped over the quarry to your man, running your fingers from his balled fists over his silk and steel arms until you were at his shoulders. You could feel the slightest shudder under all his layers at your touch.

"I didn't like him touching you. Nobody should put their hands on you, cyar'ika" His fists lowered to his sides but his visor was still on the floor. You let your hands wander up his neck to the bejeweled recesses of his helmet and turned him to meet your eyes.

"Why not?"

"B-because..."

"I want to hear you say it."

"Because you are mine." He growled through his helmet so hard that you swore you saw it vibrate, sending a delicious tingle though your spine. Atta boy.

“Again.”

“You are mine!” Even behind the beskar you could hear the clench of his teeth biting back deeper desires. His hands went to your waist, pulling you tightly to his chest. The fire coming off of him was scalding, you had pushed your luck too far with this one, and you could feel the volcano inside his ribcage boiling over. He was furious. His heavy armored head pushed against your brow, and you let your thumbs wrap around the bottom of his helmet to find the thinnest sliver of skin where the metal met the man.

“That’s right, I’m all yours.” When you had said that line to him the first time, you had been plotting your escape from his clutches, but as the reassuring words left your lips you knew there was nobody else in the galaxy you would have running their hands up your sides; and you mentally crossed ‘seduction’ off of your list of hunting skills for good. His oath of me'dinuir had swore him to your side alone, and now you knew without a shred of doubt that you wanted it to go both ways; whether you were Mandalorian or not.

You kissed at the bottom of his visor, so close to getting to feel the true, living flesh of him, and yet so far. You had to have him, you had to purge the demon’s touch from your body with the purifying fire of your protector’s rage. A choked, needy groan made its way out of the modulator, and you felt the heat of his breath on your skin. How desperately you wanted to taste it, fill your mouth with the flavor of him to replace the vile spotchka. You pushed up on his jaw, giving you just a tiny glance at his scruffy chin, and you forced your kisses into the tight, unyielding space of the beskar prison. It wasn’t enough for you, but it was a start, and you could feel his body starting to unwind at your touch. “Kiss me. Please, Mando.”

“Cyar'ika, it's not safe here.” He hated the sound of his own words, the denial of them crushing his very soul. You glanced around the dark penthouse and saw you were alone save for the crumpled devil on the floor and the designer purse that had been stashed in the corner of the room, its occupant still working on the bags of cookies. No eyes on us.

“I won’t look, just... lift your helmet a tiny bit, tin man, I need you, I need to kiss you.” You guessed you were safe enough from prying eyes, but you wouldn’t spill his name to the night just in case there were any sneaky listeners. You squeezed your own eyes shut and nipped at the armors edge again, and just ever-so-slightly began to push up on the unforgiving metal with your thumbs. You were just waiting for his hands to shoot up, to grab your wrists and halt your actions, but they were locked to your sides. Inch by inch you gradually lifted the armor, he would have all the time in the world to stop you, but when you felt the heat of his lips crash against yours you almost let your knees buckle out from under you. His strong arms were tight on your back, pulling you into him so he could kiss you harder.

So much better than spotchka. He was delicious, his taste, his feel, his scent, everything about him was intoxicating. So much more so than the despicable brew you had been throwing back all night, and a thousand times better than anything Elios could have offered. Blech. You realized then why the bounty had smelled so bad to you, though his perfume was expensive and his clothes freshly pressed, he was wrong for you. The wrongness was so overwhelming that it had nearly made you lose your drink, and you didn’t realize how wrong something could be until you tried to compare it to what was right. Din was right, he smelled of leather and beskar and the sweat of a man that had nearly combusted when someone else was at your side. And fresher soap! Thank the Maker.

A soft leather hand went to your head, pulling you into him so he could taste you better. His tongue ran over your lips, darting into you to find yours so they could dance together. You bit him playfully, and the way his breath hitched in his throat sent the fire of your core shooting all the way to your fingertips; and you knew right then that not even kissing his forbidden face would be enough for you. You pulled yourself from his lips, the snap of teeth following your retreat, reluctant to let you leave from the heat of the moment. Carefully, you let the beskar slide back down to cover him, and the anguished whine he let out into the night air almost broke your heart.

“I know, I know, I’m so mean to you, aren’t I?” With him covered you glanced around the room until you saw the private bar. With your thumbs hooked in the pockets of his borrowed vest you guided the two of you towards it until the granite countertop knocked against your ass. You used his shoulders for leverage, hopping up onto the cold surface and wrapping your knees round his waist, happy to find exactly what you were expecting to throbbing between your legs. He pushed himself against you, the feel of his stolen silks on your holstered thighs giving you goosebumps. His heavy metal head fell against your shoulder, and you wrapped your arms around him to hold him close while he ground up against your heat. He couldn’t contain himself around you, though you wouldn’t want him to if he could. You rocked your hips in time with his needy thrusts, and the growls in your ear almost made you think he would come undone with his pants still on. Can’t have that now, can we? "Mando, please fuck me, I can't wait anymore."

You heard thunder rumble out of his chest, sending electricity from where he was pressed to your shoulder straight down to where he was pulsing against your core. He was going to bring you the stars, alright, but not the ones in the night sky. He pulled back so he could look into your eyes from behind his visor, bringing a hand up to caress your pleading face.

"No, I don't want to fuck you." Your eyes shot wide, shocked that he wouldn't want you when he was rutting so hard into you that you could almost feel the dampness of precum through his layers. He saw your face and shook his head. "Elios wanted to fuck you, all of those creeps at the bar wanted to fuck you.” His helmet shook, trying to loosen the words he wanted to say. “No... I- I want to be better than them, I want to give you something else, s-something more.” He was struggling, his inexperience making it difficult to say what was on his mind. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be like them, he wanted to be worthy of you in ways they never could.

“Then make love to me instead.”

 “Yes!” The words leaving your lips were like music to his ears, so much more lovely than any song. “I want to do that! I want to make love to you, cyar’ika, if you’ll have me?”

You laughed, nodding your head to hide your bright red cheeks. How he managed to be so ferocious and so sweet on the same day was a mystery you didn’t want to solve. He quickly glanced around the room one more time just to be sure you were alone, the light of the gilded city sending streaks of color over the charms you had pressed to his cheeks. Satisfied that you were the only ones awake in the room, he leaned away from you to rip the constricting blazer off of himself so hard the fabric around his chest and shoulders started to tear. Beskar plates twinkled in the limelight, sending stars flying around the room while he worked his pants open. The sight of him springing into view made your heart flutter, among other things. Long and strong, a pearl of precum glimmering in the dark of the penthouse. His hands went to your legs, the leather of his palms snagging on the straps still belted to your thighs as he pushed the elegant fabric of your dress up to your waist. 

“You’re soaked.” You wished you could see what he saw through his visor, the sound of hitched breath telling you he could see you blooming for him clear as day, drinking you in with his hidden eyes. He hooked a thumb in the wet fabric of your panties to pull them out of the way, using his other hand to grip his cock and run the tip over your entrance, bumping against your clit while he lubed himself with your slick. You had to lean back until you were laying on the cold granite countertop, tilting your hips to the edge of the bar so he could see all of you on display. He pressed himself up and in, filling you slowly so he could indulge in every inch that disappeared inside. Your stretched walls clenched around him, making him shiver with each coiled squeeze. The Mandalorian you were giving yourself to pulled himself out of you carefully before thrusting back into you again, fighting every animalistic urge to just plow you into the bar. He was going to make good on his word, he wasn’t going to just fuck you.

But maybe he should have.

“Bing!” 

The penthouse elevator door chimed, and both of you pointed blasters on the figure that walked out from the pink haze of the lift into the dark of the room. “Elios? I know you’re up here, I’m just going to get- Oh. There you are.” The stranger spotted the crumpled, unconscious body on the floor, crossing the room until they stood over him. “About time someone split that beautiful lip of yours, Lee-lo.” The stranger that Mando had run into on the casino floor turned their tired eyes to the pair of you, noticing your obvious state of passion. “Oh please, don’t stop on my account, that’s not the worst thing I’ve walked into up here.” They squinted in the dark, then gasped softly, “Wait, it’s you! Oh good! I saw you when you were dancing and was just heartbroken when Lee-lo came between you.” The tall stranger did a little dance. “Fucking Elios.” They kicked at the Devaronian on the floor, “All he lives for is breaking hearts. I’m glad you two made up.”

The wisp of a stranger bent down to the motionless figure on the floor, yanking one of the gold rings from his horns. They said something too low for you to hear, then got up and left in another cloud of pink smoke, the elevator door closing behind them.

You both lowered your blasters, trying to wrap your collective heads around what had just happened. Mando was still buried to the hilt inside you, and you could feel him pulsing with need; but he had been right from the beginning. You weren’t safe here.

“That’s probably not the only spare key. We should go.” You whispered, trying to get your blaster back to its holster under your dress. He groaned, he was getting sick of being torn away from you. He pulled himself almost all the way out, thrust in one more time for good luck, and released himself with a pop! He pulled you to your feet, helping you down from the bar and onto the Maker-forsaken boots you still had on. Fuck these. You ripped the boots off, chucking them somewhere into the dark and crossed the room barefoot to where the oversized purse held the foundling. You were happy to see him all tuckered out in a pile of cookie wrappers, probably not the healthiest thing for him, but it worked. Behind you, your armored companion was hauling the quarry over his shoulder none too gently, ‘accidentally’ knocking his bloody head against the wall as he turned back to you. You both made for the balcony door to the speeder you had noticed earlier, tossing the bounty in the back seat like a bag of garbage. 

The ride back to the Crest was thick with anticipation, you weren't finished with each other just yet. Mando pulled the speeder right up to the ramp so you wouldn’t have to walk across sharp gravel, chucking the bounty in after you so hard he slid through the messy cabin and smashed into the wall. You slung the damned devil into the carbonite chamber, punching the freeze button with gusto. The ramp closed behind your armored companion, barely giving you a chance to get up onto the hoverskiff that still dominated the cabin floor before the lights went off. You yanked the dress over your head, listening for the sound of more fabric hitting the floor, then the clanking of beskar being tossed carelessly aside. Belts and snaps and zippers went flying, and you had to try not to laugh at the absurd amount of clothes he had to take off. The skiff tilted with new weight, and the body of a Mandalorian was on top of you, warm lips hunting for yours.

He’s naked! Every piece of armor and shred of clothing was gone, and the feel of bare skin against your body was electrifying. His mouth crashed against yours, fervent kisses desperate to taste you again. You let your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him into you to kiss back. He was hungry for you, biting at your mouth and tongue like a man starved. Plush lips made their way from your mouth down your neck, nipping at your throat and sucking the tender skin until you had bruises to match the ones on your thighs. His hands wandered down your body, rubbing at your breast and teasing your nipples until you were gasping for more. The devious digits moved on until his hand was between your legs, pushing at your folds and finding your clit to spin circles on. He was becoming an expert at finding what made you squirm and whine from his touch, rolling callused fingertips into you until you were making a delicious mess on the pile of stolen silk. 

But he wasn’t done there. The fuzzy kisses went from your breast down your belly to where his fingers were working into you. He pulled his hands from your soaked cunt and replaced them with his face, pushing his tongue up against the tiny ball of nerves that had so much power over you. Short, quick circles between long, languid licks had you arching your back and pulling his hair, demanding more. Lost in the heat of your thighs he was happy to give you everything, pushing the smooth muscle of his mouth into your slit and upwards against your clit until you were seeing stars again. 

Your hands couldn’t stop exploring him, from his thick head of curls to the strength of his shoulders. The muscles kept going, tight coils on his back and the warm, rigid wall of his chest. The trail of fuzz on his belly went up farther than you were expecting it to, and the fine hairs tickled your fingers on almost every inch of his skin. Your hands trailed over the numerous, vicious scars that marred his flesh like a road map of every near-death experience he had lived through. Gashes on his arms and burns on his sides had healed over into smooth, textureless skin, the marks of a seasoned hunter that nobody but their barer had ever seen.

Having drank his fill, he pulled his face from the apex of your thighs, pushing your knees apart and quickly sheathing himself in you with a ragged groan. Mando’a praises poured from his lips, some you were familiar but many you weren’t, though all of them made your heart flutter. Strong hands wrapped around your knees to keep you in place on the wobbly sled while he pounded into you, the feeling of bare skin on the backs of your legs making you wish you could see him in the light. But the darkness was the greatest keeper of secrets, hiding your love making from the condemnation of his creed. 

Make love. Though the phrase was just another on the long list of euphemisms used for sex, the pair of words weighed heavy with meaning in their new context. You wanted to explore the concept the way your hands explored his body, but the fire of your core was thrumming with heat, demanding your undivided attention. Din fell forward to your chest, the sweat of his efforts sticking to your breasts. Wandering kisses sent fire over your skin as he made his way over your peaks, sucking hard on their tender buds. Beskar-strong hips rocked against yours until you saw fireworks again, bearing down so hard on him with your orgasm that he sank his teeth into the crook of your shoulder. Bites made their way from where he had surely drawn blood on your flesh up your neck til they turned to kisses again. His brow pushed against your forehead, though your lips were right there he still defaulted to the only show of affection his armored inheritance allowed. Hot gasps of air puffed over your skin from the heat of his breath, and you knew he was close. You locked your legs around him, forcing him to pump every last drop of himself into you, painting your walls with his seed until it was spilling down your ass onto the piles of clothes.

The strength of his arms gave up, and he let himself fall against you, his face pushed against your cheek. You could feel his bristles brushing over your skin as his breath heaved, soft but scratchy. His hands wrapped under you and up your back, hugging you to his bare chest so hard the air was squeezed from your lungs. Fuzzy-lipped kisses dotted your cheeks and face, taking extra time to kiss your lips, each one a promise of more to come. You dragged your nails over his back, making him groan and shake at the touch. Never had anyone to scratch that itch, have you, tinman? Tight muscles loosened under your careful touch, making him sink harder onto you until you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. 

You wanted to stay there forever, but as the sweat on your bodies cooled it became sticky and made pulling yourselves apart a chore. Both of you reluctantly made your way off of the skiff, clinging to the walls of the cabin while he hunted for his helmet in the dark. Lights came on gradually once his bucket was back in place so you could find your own clothes, and when you had both gotten yourselves put back together you piled everything you had stolen onto the hoverskiff and pushed it back down the ramp of the Crest. The Mandalorian was back in his beskar, and he cocked his vambrace back and shot a wall of fire onto the little sled, incinerating all evidence of your thievery and passion. The bonfire burned brightly on the gravelly beach of the Cantonican ocean, sending flaming ash into the light of the new dawn. 

You decided to keep the red pocket square that you had tucked in on his costume, though you weren't sure what you would need it for again. Sentimental. You went to the supply crates where your backpack and droid mask were kept so you could squirrel the thing away, when you caught the familiar glowing blue of spotchka at the bottom of the larder. The horrible color made you fucking nauseous after today, but even more distressing was that you realized it was just sitting there unsecured when there was an impish child onboard that could easily get into the bottled brew and make himself sick, or worse.

“Din, we need to put this somewhere safer.”  You held the liquid lantern up for him to see what you were talking about. “What if our foundling gets into it? He might get really sick or-”

“Our?”

Shit. “Sorry, your foundling. Your foundling might get-” Din crossed the small space of the cabin until he was standing close to you, the child in question tucked against his chest. The baby’s big, nebulous eyes glittered up at you, and you couldn’t help reaching out to rub his sail-like ears. He chirped happily at your touch, and as much as you wanted to keep your eyes on him, his father was towering over you, making you squirm under his tilted glare. 

“Say that again.”

“Your foundling.”

“No. The other word.”

“Our?” 

“All of it.”

“Our foundling?”  His helmet cocked to the other side, doing his big metal bird impression. The arm that wasn’t holding the child pulled you up against his chest, squeezed right against the baby in question. The familiar galaxy-erasing hug made you realize how many times you had thought of the child as your own, he was your little buddy, your missing baby when he had been stolen away, your secret weapon that you had hidden in your purse. But he wasn’t your child, he was Din’s, so for him to also be considered as yours…

“Ours.” Above you the word was spoken like it was new, as strange on his tongue as Mando’a was to you. “Our foundling. I like that.”

You couldn’t turn your head up to look at the man who had you wrapped against himself so tightly, but you could smile at the green little child that was flashing you his adorable toothy grin. You little fart, you thought with a laugh, you’re gonna make me go all soft. Almost as though the creature could hear your thoughts he squealed in delight, patting your cheeks with his fat baby paws. You let your arms circle around the boys that had made your life a roller coaster of emotion blasting through the endless sea of stars. It might be a hell of a ride, but you weren't ready to get off any time soon. The memory of the sands of Tatooine where you had been trying to forget the dangers of the universe was starting to fade away, replaced by the moment you were losing yourself in. You were happy to see it go, though your past self would be shocked at how comfortable you had gotten with a magic alien baby and a man with no face.

“Yeah… I like it too.” You hummed into the beskar, feeling Din’s arms tighten even more. You were glad he couldn’t see your face, because the lovely smile had vanished. This is all going to end soon. You buried your face in the tiny space between the foundling and his father’s armor, trying to ignore where the coaster’s rails ended. Only one stop left.

Nevarro, here we come.

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~Kurama~Main Story Chapter 13~

Warning! Sexual content below!

Chapter 12

*

*

*

---------Part 1---------

Kurama: “I must have been mistaken in thinking you were in any way interesting.”

(Even though he didn’t use Kotodama.)

(I can’t move.)

No matter how close I feel to him, I’m sure I’ll never get used to the intimidation that Kurama gives off.

I knew it in my bones.

Kurama: “Understanding is an emotion that does not contribute strength. Will you still be able to think like that when you’re overtaken?”

Yoshino: "Wait..."

He's still intimidating, but he also smells dangerous, like an aphrodisiac.

With his voice and his eyes dominating the air, Kurama casually exposes my breasts.

Kurama: "Are you scared now?"

Kurama sneers while watching me tear up in fear and shame.

Yoshino: "....not...scared...."

Kurama: "Really."

My voice was trembling, and I'm sure he can see through me.

As if to prove the point, the red of Kurama's eyes darkened like a beast's ready to catch its prey.

Yoshino: "Mmmm....ahhh....."

A moment later, his lips pressed against my bare breast.

He then pulls away, leaving behind a faint pain and an even sweeter aftertaste.

Yoshino: "Ahh...Haa..."

My eyes watered with shame as I let out a lustful moan.

Kurama: "Reward and punishment are the same to you, isn't it?"

Yoshino: "....This is terrible."

I felt like crawled up the cliff to get as close to Kurama, but then he in turn pushed me back down.

Kurama: "Don't forget this humiliation. I've given you the freedom to speak your mind and listened to your wishes, but you aren’t allowed to enter my heart."

(Mm...)

I wriggled as he traced the skin where he had kissed me earlier.

I saw a red mark glowing right where he sucked and I bit my lips in embarrassment.

Kurama: "This face suits you much better."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. Don't say any more....(+4/+4)

2. Don't do this to me again...

3. I'll shout next time...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoshino: "Don't say any more...."

Kurama: "It would be easier if you'd accept the facts, but if that happens, I won't be rewarding myself with this lovely face of you."

Finally, after stroking my hair, Kurama steps back.

Yoshino: "...! Wait!"

He walks out of my room, without looking back.

(What should I do now?)

................

Kurama: "Benkei, give that sake."

Benkei: "Huh? That makes it the third bottle."

Benkei, who was apparently cooking dinner, looked at Kurama with a scowl as he barged in.

Benkei: "All sake that Sueharu bought for us is now in your stomach."

---------Part 2--------

Benkei: "All sake that Sueharu bought for us is now in your stomach."

Kurama: "I want more. Don't you have any spares? Hurry up. Also makes snacks for me."

Benkei: "Make your own snacks. I’m not your maid. Also, these are Yoshitsune-sama's midnight snacks. Don't steal from these."

Kurama: "Whatever belongs to Yoshitsune, belongs to me too."

Benkei: "Does that logic applies to every single thing? ....Fine, I'll take it with a grain of salt."

Even as he says this, Benkei big hands were moving quickly, sorting out Kurama's portion and also simultaneously making dinner at the same time.

Kurama leaned against the wall, looking sideways at him.

Benkei: ".......? Kurama, what happened?"

Kurama: "What do you mean 'what'? Don't ask vague questions?"

Benkei: "You're not acting like yourself. You look like you're on the edge. Hmmm....perhaps the negotiations with the silversmith didn't go well?"

Kurama: "No, that went well."

Benkei: "Really? That's good. ..................Is it about Yoshino?"

Kurama: "Why does that woman's name keep coming up?"

Benkei: "As expected."

Kurama stares at Benkei, who was chopping the vegetables.

Kurama: "..................Now I get it."

Benkei: "Huh? What?"

Benkei, who was slicing the radishes into chunks, stopped and looked back at Kurama.

Kurama: "That woman is my-----"

Benkei: "......"

Kurama: "My natural enemy."

Benkei: "Are you seriously that clueless!?!?"

Benkei slammed the knife against the chopping board as if he has given up.

.......................

(It's been few days since that night and things have gotten kind of awkward with Kurama.)

While I was watching the small pond in the garden under the sunset...

Yoshino: "Kurama no longer comes to my room or calls me...."

I was hurt and angry that day because I was humiliated.

(But it would be very uncomfortable for me to go to him myself.)

(But if I think calmly, I am a prisoner of the Rebels and it makes sense that I should be keeping my distance.)

(But.....)

Just when my thoughts were going in circles-----

Yoshino: "!!!"

Suddenly black thing comes down from the sky and lands right in front of me.

Kurama: "----Found you!"

----------Part 3--------

Kurama: "----Found you!"

Yoshino: "Kurama!? What's wrong?"

There is a smoldering impatience behind those always cold eyes.

I knew intuitively that something was wrong, and my heart beats fast.

(----What happened?)

Kurama: "Come with me."

Yoshino: "Huh?"

Kurama pulls my hand without giving me an answer and I fell into his chest.

Kurama: "I need you."

...................

(M-m-myyy....head....sp-spinning....!)

(I was also forced to carry my medicine box.)

Yoshino: "Umm...why are we in front of Heikichiro-san's house....?"

Kurama: "Go inside."

When he pushed me, I entered the small hut and-----

Yoshino: "....! Heikichiro-san!?"

Heikichiro: "Nnn....."

I ran up to the slender old man, who was slumped on the floor.

Yoshino: "Please stay strong! Can you hear me?"

Heikichiro: "It's you...."

(His pulse is there. He's a bit dazed, but still responding to my calls....)

Kurama: "When I visited, this man was already lying on the floor."

His expression remained almost unchanged, but an unseen frustration burned in Kurama's eyes.

Kurama: "----You're a pharmacist, right?"

Yoshino: "I-I am."

Kurama: "This man has yet to complete my order. Make sure he lives long enough. If you can't make him, I'll put out the fire off your life."

(......! Under such heavy pressure I have to treat this man?)

The murderous glint in his eyes made me gulp.

(But then again...)

Yoshino: "....First of all, you have to know something."

I replied back, while I untied Heikichiro-san's obi.

Kurama: "What?"

Yoshino: "I can't guarantee a person's life. But I promise I'll do my best. Also Kurama, please help me. Let's work on this together."

Kurama: ".....!"

(Ah......)

Suddenly the air around Kurama became lighter and the tension that had stung my skin was released.

Kurama: "Say what do you want me to do."

Yoshino: "Now, can you build a fire and make some lukewarm water? Also, can you find me a clean towel?

Kurama: "All right."

--------Part 4-------

Yoshino: "Can you find me a clean towel?

Kurama: "All right."

Immediately after nodding, Kurama takes the tub and heads out to the well.

Heikichiro: *Coughs*

Yoshino: “If you feel nauseous, don’t hold back, just throw up....”

I changed his posture and rubbed his back.

Yoshino: “I’ll make the hot water right away, and then we’ll examine your symptoms.”

As I took care of him, I checked for the numbness in his limbs, blurred vision and nausea.

Heikichiro-san’s consciousness slowly becomes clearer.

Yoshino: “Thank god! Looks like now you’re feeling better.”

Kurama: “Did you cure him?”

Kurama, who had finished helping and was watching the treatment intently beside me, leaned forward.

Yoshino: “What happened was that  Heikichiro-san’s pre-existing condition got worse due to overwork. It’s not that easy, we have to let him rest over a period of days for him to fully recover.”

Kurama: “.......What a fragile creature.”

Heikichiro: “Wait...you have...”

Heikichiro-san blinked few times and then stared at Kurama.

Heikichiro: “....you have wings....”

(Damn!! I was completely absorbed in treating the old man that I forgot Kurama didn’t hide his wings...)

Heikichiro: “Are you a demon? Are here to take my soul?”

Kurama: “Who wants a soul of a shriveled old man like you?”

Yoshino: “Kurama, No!”

I tried to stop him, while Kurama replied with an annoyed expression. But----

Kurama(glares): “And how dare you overworked? Don’t you fragile creatures know your place?”

Kurama started scolding Heikichiro-san if he couldn’t contain his frustration.

Heikichiro: “I...got strangely overpowered when you said you were looking forward for my work.”

Kurama: “......?”

Heikichiro: “He comes by everyday to see the progress of my work and observe what I do.”

(That’s why  Heikichiro-san overworked!?)

Heikichiro: “I am an eccentric craftsman. But the fact that you, in all your arrogance, are so eagerly awaiting my work...makes me irresistible happy. I was happy seeing his red eyes sparkling when he looked at my fingertips.”

(I think I understand what Heikichiro-san is trying to say.)

(Kurama’s words and attitude have nothing impure in them, and that’s why it strikes people’s hearts.)

(Even if you instinctively perceive them to be frightening.)

Heikichiro: “God or demon, it doesn’t matter. For me it’s all about the pride and joy of being a craftsman.”

Kurama: “...........Crazy old man.”

Kurama raises an eyebrows at Heikichiro-san, who breaks off into a few tired words.

Kurama: “If you die, I’ll kill you.”

--------Part 5--------

Kurama: “If you die, I’ll kill you.”

(Kurama...)

(I’ve never seen Kurama looks so confused before.)

Heikichiro: “Haha,,I can’t die that soon. I have to build up quickly. Also, Yoshino-san. Thank you for saving this old man’s life.”

Yoshino: “Thanks to Kurama for bringing me here.”

Kurama(clueless): “............”

Heikichiro-san and I smiled at each other, while Kurama looked at us with a complicated expression.

...............

(It’s already night.)

Kurama: “I think it’s easier to fly back home.”

Yoshino: “It’s not like I’m in a hurry. Also I feel fine walking. I also think it would be a problem if someone notice us.”

Kurama: “How annoying.”

(Maybe it’s Kurama’s way of conceding that he’s still walking.)

Yoshino: “I’m really glad that Heikichiro-san is okay. Thank you for bringing me here, Kurama.”

Kurama: “..........”

(What’s wrong?)

Yoshino: “Anyways, I’m also thinking of asking Yoshitsune-sama if I can continue to make house calls for Heikichiro-san. If he refuses, I’ll tell another pharmacist to check on his condition. So...”

Kurama: “----I see.”

Yoshino: “Is there anything else you want me to do?”

Kurama: “No, it’s enough. It’s just...the reason why that man fell, is still a mystery to me.”

Kurama who spit out the words quietly stares at me.

I gasped at the burning heat in his eyes.

Kurama: “I don’t understand....humans at all.”

Yoshino: “What? But Kurama always visits him, right? You were worried about him and that’s the reason, why you brought me here, right?”

(Kurama placed more value on  Heikichiro-san’s life than the unfinshed product. That’s why he brought me here, right?)

Kurama: “I can’t understand warm feelings such as worrying. However, that man’s hand are the hands that create brilliance. It would be a shame to lose them......and today, your hands saved that man.”

Yoshino: “Eh?”

The line of sight that didn’t show contempt or ridicule shoots right through my heart.

Kurama: “Yoshino. I’m reassessing your value. Apparently, you have a strength that I don’t know about.”

(Ah....)

Kurama’s warm fingertips, touches my cheeks, and I slowly slide my face into his palm.

Kurama: “....I’m proud of you.”

Chapter 14

[flamingfalcon3]

Hello! I have finally finished the first chapter of my first Jori fanfic. I’m still trying to get a feel for the character interactions but I think I’m starting to get the hang of it! I’m gonna start posting to ao3 once i get that account set up (and figure out a title lol) but I might as well post the first chapter here! Any and all feedback would be greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

Jade knew her girlfriend was hiding something. 

Tori was not a hard person to read. Hell, the girl practically wore her heart on her sleeve. It was so easy to guess what she was feeling at all times that Tori had all but given up trying to conceal her emotions. 

So, when Jade noticed that Tori was a bit more high-strung and stressed than usual, it wasn’t hard for her to conclude that there was something on her mind. 

It also helped that Tori was an awful liar. 

“What’s up with you?” Jade asked casually during lunch one afternoon.

“Nothing!” the singer squeaked suspiciously. She cleared her throat and attempted to regain composure. “Nothing is up. Everything is great!”

Jade frowned slightly, not at all convinced, but decided just to drop it for the time being as the rest of their friend group arrived at the table. 

The rest of the day was uneventful. Sikowitz made them all tapdance while performing a scene to “demonstrate how important it is to stay in character no matter what the character may be doing” or whatever and then spent the rest of the class monologuing about how a squirrel got trapped in his bathroom. 

Jade sighed a breath of relief as the final bell rang and cut Sikowitz off just as he was about to go into detail about the standoff he had with the rodent. The only one seemingly more anxious to get out of the classroom than Jade was her girlfriend, who was out the door before the bell even finished ringing. Their friends glanced at each other in confusion. 

“Maybe she really hates squirrels?” Robbie suggested. The others considered it for a moment before shrugging and forgetting about it a second later, exiting the classroom.

Jade strode over to Tori, who was frantically throwing books into her backpack from her locker. Jade leaned back against the locker next to Tori’s while folding her arms across her chest. 

“You’re in a hurry,” the goth commented while watching the girl struggle to cram a science textbook into her bag. 

“Jade!” Tori jumped slightly, seemingly startled by Jade’s presence.

“That’s me,” she responded dryly. “Did you forget about our date after school today?”

The singer’s eyes widened in realization and her hand flew to her forehead as she let out a groan

“Jade, oh my god, I am so sorry! I completely forgot!” she confessed, clearly feeling guilty she had forgotten they’d planned to have sushi after school ended.  

“It’s alright,” Jade replied coolly, quirking the corner of her mouth up slightly to convey to Tori she wasn’t upset with her. “What’s got you in such a rush anyway?”

Tori paused for a moment, staring down at her converse.

“Oh, umm… I promised my mom I would help her with… something,” she mumbled.

“Something…?” Jade probed, hoping to get a little more context on what had her girlfriend so worked up. Tori, however, would not offer her any.

“It’s not important. I swear I’ll make it up to you,” Tori slung her bag over her shoulder before stepping towards Jade and planting a short but sweet kiss to her lips. She then turned and began walking towards the exit. 

“You better! I can’t have people think I got stood up!” Jade called out after her, earning a hearty laugh from her girlfriend as she left the building. 

The goth rolled her eyes, amused by Tori’s refusal to admit what it was she was helping her mother with. It must be super embarrassing or something. 

Jade was halfway through entering her locker combination when she remembered something that gave her pause.

Tori’s parents were out of town for the week. Trina had a showcase and they needed an excuse not to show up. Why would she need to help her mom with something if-?

Jade’s phone lit up with a message from Tori directed towards the group chat, asking if anyone could lend her $100 bucks. The goth furrowed her brows. Tori rarely asked for money, and never more than $10 dollars at a time.

Tori Vega, what the hell are you up to? 

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

All Jade could think about for the rest of the day was how strange her girlfriend was acting. She wasn’t responding to her text messages and apparently none of their friends had heard from her either. It wasn’t like Tori at all, and Jade’s curiosity was slowly turning into concern. 

She knew it was silly to be worried. Tori was a big girl, after all. Still, why would she need $100 bucks on such short notice? And what was with her skittish and secretive attitude? 

Maybe she was in trouble with someone. Maybe she needed to pay them money in order to keep them at bay. 

The thought was so absurd that Jade almost burst out laughing as soon as it entered her mind. This is Tori she was talking about. Miss “I have never stayed out past curfew” Vega. Not exactly the type to get tangled up in criminal activity.

Still, Jade couldn’t help but feel uneasy about Tori’s radio silence. It wouldn’t hurt to pay her a visit, right?

15 minutes later she was climbing through her girlfriend’s bedroom window, which Tori for some reason always kept unlocked. Tori wasn’t there, but her backpack was on her bed and her phone was on her desk. Jade let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding as she sank down onto the bed. Not 10 seconds later she heard the sound of footsteps and the bedroom door creaked open. In walked Tori who jumped five feet in the air and shrieked upon seeing someone in her room.

“Jade?” Tori yelped. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering my texts,” the goth deadpanned. 

“So you broke into my house?” 

“I didn’t break in. Your window was unlocked,” 

“That’s still breaking in!”

“Is it really, though?”

“Yes!” 

Jade was about to argue further when she noticed Tori was holding a grocery bag, and its contents looked quite heavy based on how far the bottom was sagging. 

“Whatcha got there?” She asked, gesturing towards the bag. Tori glanced at it quickly before fixing her gaze back on Jade. 

“Just some stuff for a science project,” she stated, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Tori,” Jade huffed. “We are in the same science class. We’re lab partners. We don’t have a science project.”

Tori stammered helplessly, trying and failing to come up with some explanation for what was in the bag. Jade groaned in annoyance, fed up with whatever game her girlfriend was playing.

“I don’t understand why you won’t just tell me what’s going on! You know it doesn’t matter what it is since my opinion of you can’t get any low-” Jade was interrupted by a strange noise coming from somewhere in the room. She immediately turned to locate the source of the sound.  

Tori could only watch helplessly as the goth scoured every inch of her room before finally tearing open the doors to her closet. A tiny fuzzy creature emerged from the darkness. And then another. And then another. They kept emerging from the closet until there were seven tiny kittens of various colors and patterns wandering around the room. 

Jade slowly looked back up at her girlfriend, confusion written all over her face.

“How-how did those get in there?” Tori stammered, trying her very best to feign ignorance as all the kittens ran towards her meowing hungrily. 

Unfortunately her “very best” still wasn’t very good. 

“Tori, why were there cats in your closet?” Jade asked, still absolutely bewildered by the scene that was unfolding. 

The singer realized there was no way she could talk her way out of this one, and just gave her girlfriend a guilty look before opening her mouth.

“Remember last week when there was that sudden downpour in downtown Los Angeles?” Jade nodded. “Well, I was walking home from Nozu’s when I heard strange noises coming from an alleyway. I went to check to see what it was and-”

“Wait, you heard strange noises coming from an alleyway in downtown Los Angeles at night and you went to go check it out?” Jade asked incredulously. Jesus, Jade doesn’t know how her girlfriend has managed to survive for this long considering her self-preservation instincts were non-existent. Tori just rolled her eyes in response.”

“As I was saying, I went to go check out what the strange noises were and… well,” she turned to look at the kittens scampering around her bedroom. 

Jade brought her hand up to her face to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“So let me get this straight, you wandered into a back alley while it was raining and found kittens and decided the best thing to do would be to take them home?” Jade was still bewildered by her girlfriend. 

“Well when you put it that way it sounds like a stupid idea,” Tori blushed while avoiding eye contact. Jade sighed but took a step closer to her. 

“I mean, I always assumed you would be one of those lesbians who would have like ten cats but I thought that would start after you moved out of your parents’ house,” she smirked. 

“Hey!” Tori let out a mock-offended gasp while swatting Jade’s arm playfully. “I mean, I probably will have to move out once they come home and discover I’ve been hiding kittens in my room despite my father being deathly allergic to them.”  

Why was Jade attracted to such a moron? 

“Can’t you just give them to a shelter or something?” she asked gently. Tori shook her head softly.

“I thought about it but the pounds are apparently really full this time of year so there’s a significant possibility that they'll get…” Tori paused, unable to even finish the thought. “It’s just… they’ve been through so much in the short few weeks they’ve been alive and I can’t just abandon them now!”

Stupid Tori and her stupid heart of gold. The goth groaned and tilted her head back.

“Ugh, fine. I’ll help you with you’re dumb kitten problem,” Jade’s heart fluttered a little as she watched Tori’s face lit up like a christmas tree. 

“Really?” She gleamed. “How?”

“Well, I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who would be interested in adopting tiny kittens. Especially if you go into detail about their tragic backstory and stuff. People are suckers for that kind of stuff,” Jade stated. “You could like, advertise them on The Slap and try to get them adopted before your parents come back.”

Tori chewed at her bottom lip, contemplating Jade’s suggestion.

“That’s… not a bad idea. People advertise things on The Slap all the time,” she hesitated for a moment and her face fell. “Ugh, wait. Trina follows me. If she finds out I’m hiding kittens in my closet she’ll rat me out for sure.” 

Jade closed her eyes and sighed deeply. God, she can’t believe she was about to say this.

“I guess… I could… post about the kittens on my page, or whatever,” she grimaced. Tori’s grin got so wide Jade was concerned her face was about to split in half. 

“You would do that for me?” she exclaimed. “But, your reputatio-”

“My reputation died as soon as I changed my status to ‘in a relationship with Tori Vega’,” Jade snorted. “Kittens would be nowhere near as embarrassing as you.”

Tori was beaming at her girlfriend despite the insult, chuckling lightly as she wrapped her arms around Jade’s neck and peppering her face with soft kisses before finally connecting their lips. The goth let out a content sigh in the back of her throat and attempted to deepen the kiss while pushing Tori backwards to the bed. However, Tori hummed and broke the kiss leaving Jade more than a little confused. 

“Sorry, I-” the singer stammered. “I would feel weird making out in front of…” 

Jade quirked her eyebrows up in amusement.

“In front of… the cats?” she asked, barely suppressing a laugh. Tori nodded, cheeks red with embarrassment. Jade just chuckled and rested her forehead against her girlfriend’s. 

“Jesus Christ, Tori.”

[whenisitenoughtrees]

to be honest, capable (of holding you) (part 3/3)

He walks forward, crouching over the snake, and when it doesn’t stir at all, he works up his courage and pokes it, just a little. Its scales are warm and smooth under his fingertip, and he resists the urge to stroke them. He doubts he could get away with that.

“Janus?” he asks, trying to keep the somewhat hysterical laughter from his voice. “That you?”

Thomas didn’t know that Janus could turn into an actual snake, but he’s glad to hang out with him regardless. More than glad; ecstatic, even, because he’s been trying to figure out how to befriend him for ages, and this seems like a good first step. What he can’t figure out is why human-Janus is being so weird about it.

(Alternatively: Janus doesn’t trust easily. He wishes he could stop trusting Thomas— it would be so much less terrifying.)

Chapter Warnings: swearing

Chapter Word Count: 6,292

Pairing: platonic Thomceit

(part 1) (part 2)

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

They still don’t talk about it. Thomas is beginning to suspect that this is causing a lot more problems than it solves. And by now, enough time has passed that it almost feels wrong to address it, any of it, feels like it’s too late, like he’s let the opportunity slip through his fingers.

So, he decides to try a different approach.

“Really?” Logan asks, raising an eyebrow. He appears entirely unimpressed, like a teacher about to explain for the millionth time that he’s not going to give out the answers to the homework.

“Yes, really,” Thomas says. “I just can’t figure him out, and I thought maybe you could help me with that.”

Logan sighs, taking a seat across from him at the dining table. He clasps his hands in front of him, folding his fingers delicately. “Very well,” he says, “if only because the matter will continue to distract you if you don’t resolve it sufficiently. Where would you like to begin?”

He frowns, tilting his chair back until the two front legs lift off the floor. “I don’t really know,” he says. “I guess I just want to know why he acts the way he does. ‘Cause he seems to have no problem approaching me as a snake, but he’s so standoffish as a human, and I can never figure out exactly what he wants from me, like, ever. He’s just… confusing, and I don’t know what to do about it, or how to talk to him.”

Logan inclines his head. “In that case, it may be prudent to reflect on how this conundrum began in the first place,” he prompts, and Thomas thinks on it, casts his mind back to that day, and the snake in the sunshine.

“That’s the first question,” he agrees. “He started coming up here for the sun, right? To be warm?”

“It is rather fascinating that he possesses so many traits of a creature that is truly cold-blooded,” Logan says. He leans forward. “It does seem to me that acquiring warmth was a primary motivation for him, at least at first. However, there is another question to be considered, which is that of why he felt the need to do so here, rather than anywhere in the mindscape. Though it is true that there are some circumstances in which it is difficult to find a simulation of sunlight, such as when the twins insist on rainy weather in the Imagination, it is by no means impossible, and he should have the capability to summon a heat source for himself. A heat lamp, for instance.”

“But instead he came up here,” he says slowly. “So, you’re saying he wanted to be here. That he wanted to be… what, near me?” The idea sounds preposterous, though all the evidence points to it being the correct conclusion. Because if Janus didn’t want to, he wouldn’t. It’s that simple.

Logan nods. “Remember, the first time he was faced with a lack of warmth both inside the mindscape and out, he immediately accepted your offer of sharing body heat. Somehow, I find it difficult to believe that he would have behaved in such a manner if no part of his motivation involved being close to you, in some way.”

“Okay, maybe,” he says. “But I still don’t get why he’s doing it like this. He always seems so embarrassed when I try to bring it up to him, like he doesn’t want to talk about it at all.”

“Oh, come on, Thomas,” Virgil says. “You can’t possibly be that oblivious.”

Thomas starts violently, a yelp escaping his throat. He nearly overbalances, nearly sends himself and the chair crashing to the floor, but he corrects himself in time, clutching at his chest as he wrests his heart rate back down to something approaching normal levels.

“Holy smokes, Virge,” he says. “A little warning, next time?”

From where he is perched on the chair between them, Virgil shrugs, looking vaguely apologetic.

“Ah, Virgil,” Logan says. “I was wondering when you were going to arrive.”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Sorry I’m late,” he snipes, not sounding sorry at all. “I was just making sure that, you know, Janus wasn’t listening to you guys talking about him behind his back. You can’t honestly think he’d be happy that you guys are having this conversation, can you?” Thomas blinks, and Virgil must sense his sudden increase in nerves, because he shakes his head. “He’s busy with Remus right now, so you don’t actually have to worry about it yet, but a little bit of caution wouldn’t kill you.”

He sounds annoyed, but not overly angry, so Thomas relaxes a bit. “Right,” he says, “sorry, Virgil. Wasn’t really thinking about that.” He pauses. “I have been wondering where you’ve been, actually. I really thought that you’d, uh, have a little bit more to say about the whole letting-Janus-basically-cuddle-with-me thing. But you’ve been kinda quiet.”

Virgil exchanges a glance with Logan, shifting in place. “Yeah, uh, you’ve got Logan to thank for that,” he says. “Look, I don’t like the guy. I probably never will. But—” He pauses, hunching his shoulders— “even I’ve got to admit that he’s not gonna hurt you, so honestly? I have a lot more problems with the things he says and tries to get you to do than the, uh. Whatever the hell this has been.”

He gestures broadly, leaning back. Despite his typical disaffected tone, there is an odd gravity to his words, and Thomas knows that there’s something he isn’t saying. But he won’t press the issue; not yet anyway. Virgil is entitled to his secrets, and though he has long speculated on what, exactly, his relationship to Janus is and was, he is content to leave it alone for now.

“Fair enough,” he says. “So, what do you mean about me being oblivious?”

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “Really? You can’t figure it out?” he asks. “Janus is the embodiment of lies and deceit, Thomas. He’s the opposite of trustworthiness.” Thomas opens his mouth to interject, since he really doesn’t see how this is relevant, or even remotely helpful, but Virgil holds up a finger, forestalling him. “And I’m not just saying that in the context of him not being trustworthy. Which he’s not, by the way, just to make that clear.”

“Yeah, no, I know exactly where you stand on this,” he mutters, and Virgil glares at him. “Sorry, sorry, please continue.”

“All I’m trying to say is that he’s got some fucking trust issues, alright?” Virgil snaps. “He’s—” He breaks off, looking away and reddening slightly. He seems to struggle with himself briefly, his face twisting into some undefinable expression: a heavy reluctance, mixed with something Thomas can’t put a name to. “He’s kinda like me, in that way. You remember how long it took me to believe you when you started telling me you actually wanted me around?”

Guilt floods him, then, the memories of how he used to treat Virgil rushing back. These past couple of years have been good, so much so that he rarely thinks back on where they started. He knows Virgil so well that it is easy to forget that he feared him, once, pushed him down and tried to ignore him rather than working with him or trying to help him.

“Virgil—”

“No, listen.” His words come insistently, once again verging on frustration, so Thomas shuts up. “I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty, or whatever. We’re past that now. We’re good. And god knows I fucking hate comparing myself to him in literally any way. But what I’m trying to say is that being a, a ‘dark side’ or whatever you want to call them, it’s not exactly conducive to believing that you care, or that you value our opinions. So even though you’ve accepted him, and you’ve started actively listening to his contributions, he probably doesn’t trust you not to, like, reverse positions, or some shit like that.”

“But Thomas hasn’t shown any desire to do so,” Logan interjects, “nor any indication that his stance will change in the future.”

“Maybe,” Virgil returns, “but Janus is self-preservation, not logic. He likes to pretend that he’s all cool and confident and rational, but he’s not. So he’s gonna act out of self-defense, no matter how stupid a move that might be.”

“You’re saying he thinks I might hurt him,” Thomas says. A strange sort of horrified numbness settles into his chest at the very thought, because that is the last thing he wants. It has always been the last thing he wants. And now, so much time has passed, and they haven’t addressed it at all, and maybe it really is too late. Because Virgil is right; it only makes sense that Deceit himself would be hesitant to trust, and he’s not sure there’s anything he can say or do to convince him otherwise. If he doesn’t trust him at this point, who’s to say he’ll ever trust him at all?

Would he be right not to?

“I’m saying he’s scared you might hurt him,” Virgil says bluntly, breaking him from his thoughts, and that’s even worse. He finds it hard to picture Janus being scared, but Janus lies as easily as breathing. What’s one more emotion to mask?

He doesn’t want Janus to be scared of him.

“I’m not sure how much sense that makes,” Logan says. “If Janus truly has the trust issues that you are describing, it wouldn’t be rational for him to seek out Thomas as much as he has. If he fears being hurt, it would be more logical to stay away, rather than actively searching for his company.”

Virgil shrugs. “Exactly.”

There is a beat of silence. Thomas looks at Logan, and has the gratification of seeing that he appears as confused as he feels.

“What?” Logan asks.

“Oh my god,” Virgil says. “Do I have to be the one to spell this out? Janus has trust issues, yeah? He’s afraid of getting close to you, because he thinks you might hurt him. But he’s been spending time with you anyway. What does that tell you?”

He furrows his brow, trying to sort through the words. There is something there, a conclusion that Virgil is attempting to lead him, to, but it’s not quite—

Oh. Wait.

“That doesn’t follow,” Logan says. “You’re saying he doesn’t trust Thomas, but now you’re trying to imply that he does?”

Virgil shrugs again, this time looking remarkably self-satisfied, a smug smile forming on his lips. “I guess,” he says. “I’m not saying it has to make sense. Trust… isn’t always based on logic. Sometimes it’s just emotions, or even just a gut feeling. Intuition. And like I said, Janus pretends not to be emotional, but at heart, he’s just as much of a dramatic theater kid as Roman is, if that tells you anything. He’ll be snarky and prickly and dickish all day long, but just because he pushes you away doesn’t mean that’s actually what he wants.”

His voice lowers at the end, becoming something soft and bitter and laced with experience. Thomas exchanges another glance with Logan, but once again decides not to force the issue. Virgil will come to him when he’s ready and not a moment before.

“So, you think that he does trust me, on some level at least,” he says, working through the information as he goes. “But not enough to approach me openly, or to talk to me about it, so maybe he doesn’t trust me not to take advantage of that trust? Or maybe he doesn’t trust me to trust him, or maybe he doesn’t trust me not to reject his trust.” He pauses, considering. “Hey, do you ever say a word so many times that it starts to lose its meaning? Trust. Trust, trust, trust. Truuuust. See? Gibberish.”

Logan exhales through his nose, sharp and pointed. “Focus, Thomas,” he says wearily, and Thomas forcibly brings his head back down to earth. “Have you come to a conclusion as to what your next step should be?”

Thomas looks at him, and then looks at Virgil. They are both staring at him, twin expressions of expectation on their faces, and his heart warms to see them like this, working together so easily, united in their purposes. Logic and Anxiety, Logan and Virgil. They really do make a good team. He doesn’t know where he would be without them.

He hopes they know that.

“Yeah, I have,” he says, and laughs. “I guess I should’ve been doing it all along. I need to talk to him.”

Logan’s face relaxes, and he nods. “There you have it,” he says. “Working through this with us is fine and good, but you’ll never be satisfied until you can figuratively ‘clear the air’ with him.” He unfolds his hands, bracing them against the table as he stands, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushes it back. “If that is all you need from me, I believe I will be on my way.”

Thomas smiles at him, helpless to do anything but. He really does love his sides. “Sure thing,” he says. “Thanks a lot, Logan.”

Logan sinks out, but Thomas is sure that a matching smile plays about his lips.

And then, he looks to Virgil, still crouched in the other chair, shoulders hunched and fingers fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. His brow is creased, his eyes narrow, and it is a far cry from the open posture of moments before.

“You good?” he asks, and then stops to reconsider. Virgil is rarely completely good, so to speak, and clearly, there is something else on his mind now. “With all of this, I mean,” he clarifies. “I know you said that you were okay with me and Janus hanging out, but I know that there’s some kind of past between the two of you, and I. Uh. I mean, I want all of you to be happy, and that includes Janus, but that includes you, too. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable if there’s anything I can do to help with that.”

Virgil sighs, gaze shifting to meet his eyes. He looks tired all of a sudden, drained.

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot, lately,” he admits. “And yeah, when he first showed up and started doing this? I was freaked. I’m sure you felt that. Logan’s had to talk me down a lot. But I—” He hesitates, sucking in a deep breath. “I’ve realized something recently, and that’s the fact that a lot of my problems with Janus are pretty personal. Not all of them, but more than I really thought. And I don’t think it’s fair to you to push my view of him onto you when really, I’ve just been projecting my own feelings.” He shakes his head ruefully. “My private issues with him don’t necessarily mean that he never makes any good points. Maybe if I hadn’t been so against hearing him out in the first place, we could’ve avoided a lot of bullshit. So, I’m sorry. From here on out, I’m gonna try to be better about that.”

Thomas blinks. And then blinks again. He feels as though a weight has been lifted from his chest, a weight that he didn’t know was there at all. It’s only now that it’s gone that he realizes how worried he has been about this, about Virgil and Janus and the relationship between them and how he is supposed to keep them both close when their enmity is so strong.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh, wow, uh. That’s really good to hear.” His words stumble over each other, but the smile that softens his tone is completely genuine, and he hopes that Virgil picks up on that. “I’m proud of you.”

Virgil jerks, his eyes widening. Under his foundation, his cheeks flush red.

“Cool,” he says. “Um, thanks. Whatever.” He salutes, his typical two-fingered motion landing just shy of casual, and he sinks out from the chair, leaving Thomas alone at the table.

Well. Not truly alone. When is he ever? Just because he can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t present, doesn’t make them any less a part of him.

He breathes deeply, in and out, and feels more balanced than he has for a long time.

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

He gives it a day. A day to rest, a day to formulate a vague plan of how to go about this, of what to say. Though he now feels secure in this course of action, knows that this conversation needs to happen, he is still nervous about stepping wrongly. Janus has a temper, and more defenses than a temple from Indiana Jones, and if this meeting goes off the rails, he isn’t sure how to salvage it. Better to try to keep it running smoothly from the very beginning.

He wishes he were more confident in his ability to do that.

He sits on the couch, tries to get comfortable. His heart is beating quickly, though just as much from anticipation as from nervousness. He inhales deeply, and then stretches out his arm, motioning like he’s trying to raise someone from the floor.

“Janus?” he calls out, and stops to wait.

And then, he is there, stepping smoothly from the shadows. It’s totally unlike the way the others rise up, but it’s not like how Virgil does it, either. Virgil appears suddenly, like every jump scare in every horror movie, quick and forceful and undeniable. But Janus strides forward as if he was there all along, and something in Thomas’ mind insists that he was, that he has been there this whole time, even though he knows very well that he only just arrived.

“Thomas,” he says, voice level and collected. Looking at him now, it is difficult to believe that he was ever injured, that Thomas has seen him bleeding and shaking, that Thomas has felt him cling to him in his sleep. He appears nothing less than completely put together, gloves immaculate and hat perfectly balanced, and just for a moment, Thomas loses his nerve.

But just for a moment, and that is all.

“Hey, Janus,” he says, projecting as much confidence as he can muster. “Do you have a minute?”

Janus lifts an eyebrow, and the set of his eyes shifts, just slightly. He wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t watching, but there is a flash of— something. Dread, perhaps, though he can’t be sure, and whatever it is, it doesn’t show in his voice.

“I suppose,” he says, somehow managing to sound both agreeable and incredibly put upon, “though I am terribly busy, you know. I can’t imagine why you would assume I’d make time for you.”

As always, it takes mental gymnastics to figure out which parts he means and which parts are sarcasm, but Thomas tries not to dwell too much. He pats the couch next to him, gesturing for him to sit, and after a second of hesitation, Janus does, sinking into the cushion with a fluid, graceful motion, crossing one leg over the other. For all the world, he appears completely at ease, but Thomas isn’t convinced that’s the case. There is something in the tilt of his head, the tension in his hands, that suggests discomfort.

He hopes it’s just discomfort, and not anything stronger than that.

“Okay, well,” he says. “I’m glad you could.” He pauses, trying to figure out if there’s a delicate way to start this, but he thinks that Janus would see right through any attempt at prevarication on his part. So he soldiers ahead, bracing for the fallout, whatever that may be. “I’d like to talk to you about the snake thing that you do.”

Janus blinks, lifting his chin slightly, and Thomas can’t help but wonder if it’s a conscious decision for him. Blinking, that is. Snakes don’t blink, after all, so does that translate to his human form? Does he choose to blink? Does he have to think about it?

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be a bit more specific than that,” Janus says coolly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m at least partially a snake at all times, so you’ll have to tell me which ‘snake thing,’ exactly, you’re referring to.”

He sighs. “I think you know,” he says.

Janus’ shoulders stiffen minutely.

“And what about it?” he asks. “I don’t see what there is to discuss. Unless this is you asking me to stop.”

He sounds defensive, far more so than Thomas would like him to be so early in the conversation, and he struggles to quash his alarm.

“No, I’m not asking you to stop. Definitely not,” he says, meeting Janus’ eyes squarely. “I’m happy to spend time with you, Janus. And if you’re a snake during that time, then that’s completely fine. But I wanted to ask you why, I guess.” He hesitates, but Janus doesn’t interrupt, just continues to study him with wary eyes. “I mean, at first I just thought you wanted to get warm. And that’s cool! I’m one hundred percent cool with that! But the thing is, I’m pretty sure that there are other ways you could do that, if you wanted. So, I wanted to see if maybe there was another reason.”

Janus looks away at that, a scowl twisting his lips.

“Snakes are cold-blooded,” he says, his words short and clipped. “You’re a convenient source of heat, that’s all.”

Thomas has never been so sure that Janus is lying in all his life.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m not gonna push you to tell me. Not if you don’t want to. But if you do want to, you can. I really would like to know.”

And because the moment seems to call for it, he gently reaches out and places a hand on Janus’ arm. Janus’ eyes widen, and he tenses, but makes no move to pull away, so after a moment of indecision, wondering whether this touch is welcome or not, Thomas maintains the contact. After a second or two, Janus turns his head toward him again, eyes flitting back and forth between his hand and his face, and his expression is unreadable, but Thomas is fairly sure that some kind of emotion is trying to make itself known, though he can’t be sure exactly what it is. Shock, perhaps, but he doesn’t think he’s said anything too shocking, unless—

He remembers that day, Janus bleeding all over his bathroom sink, and the fading look of surprise on his face when Thomas told him that he wanted to take care of him.

And he wonders: does Janus know he can have this?

He tries to recall whether he’s ever touched Janus as a human. Besides that one incident, he doesn’t think he has. Even when he placed Janus in his own bed and sat next to him, he put distance between them, a gap that was only closed after they both fell asleep. And in the morning, Janus was gone, almost as if he was fleeing the scene, and Thomas thought it was because he was embarrassed, but what if that’s not all of it?

What if he was worried about how Thomas would react?

“Janus,” he says slowly, “you do know that I enjoy your company, right? And not just when you’re a snake. When you’re human-shaped, too.”

“Of course,” Janus says, but it’s too quick, too shaky for Thomas to even begin to believe him.

“I’m serious,” he presses. “Is that… is that why you only hang out with me when you’re a snake? Did you think I wouldn’t want to otherwise?”

Janus glances away again. “Right, because you’d definitely understand,” he mutters, and Thomas makes a negating gesture with his free hand.

“Then why don’t you help me understand?” he asks, somewhat desperately.

Janus stays quiet for a long minute, and as the silence stretches on, he fears that he’s messed it all up, somehow, that he had this one chance to connect and he blew it, made a mistake somewhere without realizing, and Janus is about to reject him and sink out and he will never have this opportunity again—

“You do realize what you’re asking of me?” Janus says softly. He still doesn’t look at Thomas. Thomas wishes he would. “An honest conversation isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

“That’s okay,” Thomas says, and Janus closes his eyes and nods. Once, sharply, almost as if to himself.

“It is about warmth,” he says. “At least partially. I’m not sure why your mind decided to assign me scientifically accurate snake traits, but—” He shrugs— “I’m more than used to it by now. I… never really needed to come up here, though. I have heating lamps of my own, and if that doesn’t suit, I can usually find a warm spot in the Imagination. But, that first day, the mindscape seemed so crowded, like I couldn’t find a moment’s peace. So I decided to try up here instead. I told myself that if you spotted me, I would leave.”

“But I did,” Thomas says. “And you didn’t.”

“I was dozing. You caught me off guard, and then… to be frank, I didn’t expect you to let me stay,” Janus admits, and Thomas feels a pang at the confirmation. “But then you did, so I kept doing it, and it became a routine.”

He nods. So far, there have been no surprises. He remembers all of this very well.

“And then there was that rainy day,” he prompts, and Janus winces slightly, his eyes sliding back open, staring out into the living room, unfocused.

“Yes,” he agrees, whisper-soft, and Thomas leans forward to hear him better. “I knew it was foolish of me to stay here when I could have just as easily gone to my room and been warm there. But I didn’t want to.”

The last sentence carries the weight of a confession.

“Why is that?” Thomas asks. He barely dares to let the words pass his lips. Even now, when Janus is clearly trying to open up to him, he is still scared of saying the wrong thing, of making him clam up again, pull away.

Slowly, Janus uncrosses his legs, letting his hands splay out against his legs. For a moment, Thomas’ eyes are drawn to the contrast, yellow on black.

“I—” Janus pauses, his expression pinched. He shakes his head. “In the mindscape, it’s somewhat difficult to ensure a moment of solitude. It’s quieter up here, and even besides, that, I—” He cuts off suddenly, a violent shiver running through him, so intense that it almost seems like a convulsion.

“You?” Thomas prompts, trying not to show his worry. But Janus refuses to reply, and as Thomas watches, he slowly brings a hand up to cover his own mouth, an unsettling parody of when he silenced the others. And something in Thomas’ heart breaks to see it, to see this, to see the way Janus retreats into himself, the way he presses his hand against his face as if trying to hold back a flood.

The posture reminds him of something. The posture reminds him of Virgil. Of Virgil, anxious and afraid of judgment, and Thomas never really expected that from Janus, but he remembers thinking, way back when this first started, about how Janus and Virgil are alike. And that thought gives him the courage to continue, because he knows how to get through to Virgil when he gets lost in his head, so maybe he can get through to Janus, too.

So, he reaches out. One hand still rests on Janus’ arm, but he gently curls the other around Janus’ wrist, though he doesn’t try to pull his hand from his face, not yet.

“You don’t need to do that,” he says. “You can tell me. I swear, I won’t betray your trust.”

Janus’ face spasms, and gently, Thomas guides the hand down from his jaw. The skin around his mouth is red from the force of his grip, except for where the scales glitter, and his lips are drawn into a thin line, pressed together tightly. But there is something shining in his eyes, something that Thomas can’t interpret.

“Won’t you?” Janus asks. It should be a challenge, but it isn’t, not quite, because it’s not nearly aggressive enough for that, not nearly as aggressive as it was probably intended to be. There is a quietness in the words, a sort of defeat, and all of that is mixed with an odd desperation, like Janus thinks he knows the answer but wants to hear it anyway. “You hardly have a reason not to.”

Thomas is beginning to wonder if they’re having the same conversation here.

“No,” he says. “I know this isn’t easy for you. But I do have a reason not to, and that reason is that I care about you.” He wants to scrub a hand down his face, to let a bit of his frustration show, but doing so would mean letting go of Janus, either his arm or his hand, and he doesn’t want to do that yet. “Look, I get that trust is hard. And I’m not asking for anything that I haven’t earned. But what I do earn, I’m not going to abuse. I promise you, Janus.”

Janus shudders at the sound of his name.

“Can you promise that?” he asks.

And Thomas does the only thing he can think to do and draws him in for a hug.

“Yes,” he says, resting his chin on Janus’ shoulder. “Yes, I can promise that.”

Janus freezes up, and for a moment, it’s like hugging a stone statue. But Thomas holds him close, so close that he can feel his heartbeat beneath all his layers, beating rabbit-quick and scared, and he doesn’t let him go, and incrementally slowly, Janus melts into his embrace, inch by inch, as if he’s fighting it, fighting himself.

“It’s about safety,” he murmurs, and Thomas has to strain to hear him. “I feel safe, with you.”

“I’m glad,” he replies, and hopes that Janus can hear just how much he means it. “I’m really glad. But why do you feel like you have to hide that?”

Janus doesn’t answer, but Thomas thinks he can guess. Virgil’s voice still rings in his ears, reminding him of how long he’s pushed the dark sides away, how long it has taken for him to acknowledge them as parts of him at all, much less important parts, parts deserving of respect in their own right. Really, what reason does Janus have to assume that Thomas won’t hurt him, won’t shove him to the side, back down into the dark? Why would Janus discard his caution in favor of trust when it has taken so very long for Thomas to be receptive to him at all?

Janus conceals so much, all the time. It’s a part of his function. So how can Thomas possibly expect him to admit what he truly wants?

“It frightens me,” Janus whispers suddenly, and Thomas pulls his attention back to the present, startled. “I never allow myself to trust anyone, and yet… I want to be close to you. I always have, I suppose, but I never really expected it to be possible. I never expected it to be a problem—”

“Whoa, hey, no,” Thomas says, because he definitely needs to cut off that line of thinking right away. He pulls away from Janus, gripping him by both shoulders and holding him in front of him so he can make eye contact. “Your feelings aren’t a problem. You feeling safe isn’t a problem, and it never will be, you hear? The only thing that’s a problem is that I refused to accept you for so long, and I’m trying to fix that now. But that’s not your fault.”

He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. When he speaks again, he keeps his voice low and measured and as sincere as possible, and he doesn’t take his eyes off of Janus’ face.

“I know we don’t know each other that well,” he says. “I know there’s a lot about you that I don’t understand. But I’ve really liked spending time with you these past couple months, and not because you’re a snake. You don’t need to be a snake to spend time with me. You’re not intruding, or, or bothering me, or whatever. I want to hang out with you, no matter what shape you’re in.” He smiles wryly. “Really, the only reason I didn’t say so sooner was because I wasn’t sure what was going on, or if maybe you actually didn’t want to be around when you’re, uh, human-shaped. But, Janus, I really mean it. I want to get to know you better. I want to be friends. There’s no conditions attached to that.”

He pauses.

“You’re always welcome to be close to me,” he says. “Always.”

They stay like that for a moment, like time has frozen around them, frozen this moment, and Thomas scarcely dares to breathe. Either this was the right thing to say, or it wasn’t, and he can only hope for the former and not the latter, because there is no taking it back. He’s spoken his mind and his heart with nothing less than complete sincerity, and he couldn’t renege on that even if he wanted to.

Janus makes a choked noise, and then, with one gloved hand, reaches out and snags Thomas’ shirt. And he pulls himself close, tucking himself against Thomas’ chest, burying his face into his shirt. His hat slides off his head and to the ground, but he doesn’t seem to notice, or care if he does. His shoulders are shaking, and Thomas can feel the growing dampness of the fabric against his skin, but he doesn’t say anything, because he’s said all that needs to be said. He knows it, and he thinks that Janus knows it, and he hopes that now, Janus will finally, finally be able to believe him.

So Thomas just wraps his arms around him, and holds him steady.

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

It’s movie night. It’s movie night, and Thomas is feeling good, great, even, because there are no pressing deadlines or moral crises, and he’s making popcorn in the kitchen, a soft blanket draped over his shoulders while he listens to everyone affably bicker in the living room. And that’s what it is: bickering, not arguing, not fighting. Roman is advocating for Disney, surprise surprise, while Virgil is groaning about how “that’s literally all you ever want to watch,” and Patton is chiming in with a desire to watch something with animals, anything really, he’s not all that picky, and Thomas can’t help but smile as he walks in to join them.

Logan is the only one not particularly invested in the conversation, and he greets him with a nod. Thomas hands him the popcorn bowl, trusting him not to make a mess of it, and settles against his side. The others pile in in short order, Patton on the floor and leaning against his legs, Virgil tucked into his other side, and Roman dramatically splaying himself out along the rest of the couch and putting his head in Virgil’s lap.

Remus is here too, behind the couch. Thomas has told him that he’s free to join in if he puts some clothes on, and though Remus swiftly turned him down, there was an odd gleam in his eye that told Thomas to expect a change in the future.

“Was Janus going to join us?” Logan asks, voice barely audible over the sound of the others’ discussion, which has continued uninterrupted, entirely too intense for something as simple as picking a movie to watch.

Thomas grins at him, and lifts the blanket so he can see Janus, draped across his shoulders. Janus lifts his head and flickers his tongue out at Logan, but makes no move to leave or hide. Virgil glances over briefly and frowns, but doesn’t comment, giving Thomas a short nod.

“The Lion King it is!” Roman bursts out, and Thomas settles in.

They watch The Lion King, and when that’s done, Virgil insists on Hocus Pocus, and it’s getting late after that, but Patton quietly asks for Princess and the Frog, and even though Thomas can tell that everyone is close to nodding off, he puts the disk in and lets it play. His own eyelids are drooping before Tiana even meets Naveen, and he is close to falling asleep before Janus begins to shift in place, rousing him a bit.

And suddenly, Janus is in his lap, human-shaped, snuggling up against his chest with a sigh of contentment. Thomas adjusts automatically, shuffling so that everyone can stay comfortable. Virgil mutters something along the lines of, “Get your damn snaky elbow out of my face,” but his sleepiness undercuts any venom the words might have.

“You good, buddy?” Thomas murmurs, too tired to say much of anything else.

Janus hums, taking off his hat and casting it to the ground before tucking his head under Thomas’ chin.

“Shhhhut up and go to ssssleep,” he slurs, and Thomas smiles.

Besides the movie still playing on-screen, the living room is dark. But before Thomas closes his eyes, he thinks he sees Remus staring at him, thinks he inclines his head in… what, approval? And then he is gone, and Thomas doesn’t think too much more about it.

Because he has Janus, and he has all the rest of his sides here, gathered around him, at peace, and all is well with the world.

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

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