#corner me in half hour long one sided conversations so I’m living in fear of that now

[prolibytherium]

Guy at my job has a one sided beef with me and now my emails are a war zone. Trench warfare in the emails. Fire and screaming and etc.

[enjoyyourtravelsechooflight]

AS I WATCH ON - 2023 EDIT

(Apiece of writing I have not shared widely enough I feel like sharing today because honestly this piece sums up my feelings on this topic better than any well intentioned conversation ever could.)

As I watch on. Close enough to you to see things the world at large takes for granted, embedded in your life enough to care and to fear for everyone involved, I say this:

Live please. I know you’re tired, but this place is spinning a while longer.

Think please. I know these thoughts sometimes.

We can’t all fool ourselves much longer.

Eat please. “I like my food cold”

I want to know you when you’re older.

“Drink these” The voices, they’ve been getting stronger.

Drink please. A part that’s never, never wrong.

Another sip, just like a song.

Hidden somewhere, never mind.

I’ll just never. I’m just never wrong.

I want to know you when you’re older.

I know these thoughts, I know you’re tired.

We can’t all fool ourselves much longer.

Live please. This place is spinning

a while longer.

I know you must be getting stronger

Months pass, there are times our shared house feels empty during hospital visits. There are times you empty it of half your possessions, tickets from the pawn shop littering untidy corners of rooms. We both have our ups and downs and we grow further apart.

Tired light travels just as fast.

Shadows take all the time they need.

The dull ache of a bottomless glass.

Drink up, with all the excuses you can think up, then bleed.

An old desk, at the second hand store.

Lost ground. Found a few bright thoughts

in an empty drawer.

Tired light travels just as fast.

Shadows take all the time they need.

The dull ache, leave it in the past.

Stay bright, with all the excuses you can think up, then breathe.

These words are more optimistic than the situation itself. They have to be. As I leave your side as housemate and instead purposely lose contact for the near future (which is rare for me, I don’t cut people off from my existence lightly) I just have to hold onto hope that things can improve for you. For anyone in a similar situation I have to hold on the belief a chemical reaction can’t turn a whole life into a dark ride into nothingness with no way out.

Years pass. And completely out of view someone I’m yet to meet has fallen many years further down into this same dark path.

So far and so fast that it now stands like a train, unstoppable speeding towards a family I will come to be a part of through happenstance 4 years later.

If I could have said to you early enough, who knows how early it would have to be, how loudly it would need to be said. What could anyone ever say.

You can’t drink so much that you have become a husk of a human being many years down the track, you mustn’t, though I fear you may.

Surely it’s not truly possible to drink so much for so long consistently that multiple organs in your body just begin to give up, one after another in quick succession. So much that the lining of your stomach wears away enough to cause an internal bleed in the same week your organs have all started to fail. Surely you would have been advised to curb the behaviour, you would have reached out, or cared, or wanted for some other fate. Surely it can’t be a surprise to get this sick if you remember each and every drink that led to this.

You mustn’t do this to the people in your life, your friends, your children. But you did.

Heartbreakingly you did.

You did drink that much.

Your stomach bled, and your kidneys and liver gave up. You stopped breathing with your kids not far away while in hospital. They buried you a week later. They had to spend hours standing with a sea of adults taking on board that fact that you were now no longer a light behind a pair of eyes. You were not here anymore.

I was a bonus dad to these kids for four years, and despite separating from this family recently I’m never going to forget how gut wrenching being this close to this loss was and still is. I remember showing up for work the day after the funeral. I lasted an hour, then felt the need to weep, or throw up, and ultimately, I just needed to leave and let the day before continue to sink in.

To anyone even close to this level of self harm through alcohol, take note of the pain in your loved ones wavering voices if they are ever heard.

Take note of the pain in your own quiet thoughts as you turn the decision over.

Leave the dull ache in the past. Stay bright, with all the excuses you can think up, then breathe.

[kirascottage]

hey! could you write a fluff fic of lip gallagher x reader? maybe something where he’s protective? love your writing! - nina <3

always choosing you

lip gallagher x f. reader

summary: lip saves you while at a party.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: soft and protective lip all in one, swearing, alcohol, mentions of trauma, non-consensual touching (just the waist), mentions of violence, kissing, mentions of sex (1x)

join my taglist here !

“Babe, this tastes disgusting.” You scowled while referring to the red solo cup in your hand. At your distasteful words, Lip’s head had whipped over to your twisted face, studying your wry grimace then looking at the poorly made drink most likely whipped up by a Sophomore that had no idea how to mix alcohol.

“Here, take mine.” Without a second thought, he quickly swapped the drink in your hand with his own, Vodka Cranberry. The drink he voluntarily handed you was a translucent shade of dull red and it fizzed at the top. Taking a sip, your brow arched in a consensus of the pleasant-tasting beverage.

To a family like the Gallagher’s, it was portrayed as a psychedelic for Lip Gallagher to be seen as a caring individual rather than a belligerent boy without any anger control. (especially to someone like Fiona) His emotional trauma merely enabling him to hide his concealed emotions from others, but like any other person, it took tremendous work that you were willing to put in.

“Hey, you wanna go soon?” His eyes naturally drifted around the party as he questioned you with a gentle hand sitting comfortably at your waist, his thumb moving slowly over the material of your shirt. “Sure, lower-class man parties are always a bummer.” You mutually agreed, glimpsing as to how his eyes travel across the room to a familiar redhead.

“I’m gonna go tell Ian, you good here?” His thumb pointed in a backwards direction as he walked the same way, you nodded in approval before he was off with his shoes tapping in sync to the music as he proceeded to the Kitchen while you stood in the living room against a wall.

It wasn’t usual for Lip to willingly leave you alone, especially in social situations like this one with intoxicated teenagers at your every corner. He once claimed a wannabe Tristan Dugray from Gilmore Girls would sweep you off your feet and carry you off to the sunset but you declared that would be spurious.

You picked at your nails for the first few minutes, growing bored as you waited, your fingers following the curvature of the cup along with the slight indentations and lines as your patience grew thin. Most likely Ian was stuck in a conversation with long-haired Milkovich, and he wouldn’t wanna leave just yet, his usual stall techniques including whining to his eldest brother.

Your evident impatience had swallowed you whole, eventually abandoning the remains of the drink at a battered table so your arms could cross in front of your chest and your foot tapped insanely quick against the floor. Now that tapping would've bothered anyone as the music vibrated through the drywall and the neighbours were nearing annoyance with the deliberation of filing a noise complaint.

As you were just about to set off to the kitchen, slender fingers gripped at your belt loops hauling you closer to the point your rear had struck the male stranger's chest.

“Hey! What the fu—“

“What’re you doing here all alone?” You attempted to harshly to move away at the poor tone of male seduction but the firm grip on your denim loops was restricting you from such.

“You see, I'm not alone so if you’d—“ You gestured impatiently to his hand with a curt glint in your tone whilst looking back at him; but, he cut you off with a brisk ‘S’alright, baby. I’ll take care of you.’ And no intention of letting you go.

You huffed with a squirm as his disengaged hand grasped at your waist where the emptiness of Lip’s hand had formerly been. “I have a fucking boyfriend—“ You inevitably began to yell over the music at the boy you could recognize as Clint Eastwood from your English class with a drunken smirk plastered onto his features.

This time it wasn’t his slurred voice cutting you off once again, it was a familiar rage-ridden Gallagher. “Get your hands off my fucking girlfriend.” Lip’s baritone became hoarser by the word as his hands hastily gripped at the boy's collared shirt whilst you stumbled by Ian who had briskly caught your arm hoisting you upright.

“Sorry! Dude, I didn’t know she—“

“Really? I clearly fucking heard her say she had a boyfriend,” His scowling brows drew together tightly and his lips pursed at the boy's face trembling in justified fear; as the scene grew larger with frequent yells occurring from Lip, most attendees of the party queued in on the scene.

“I guess idiots like you don’t know how to take a fucking hint.” Lip would’ve severely beaten his face in till Clint was due a trip to the ER but your magnifying grip at the back of his torso was enough to subdue his nerves and release the male off to the side and make his way to the car while gripping your hand the silent way there as the music grew fainter.

The car ride was silent, Lip’s hands gripped the wheel hard enough for distinctive marks to melt into the leather of the disk-shaped circle. He was well indeed sober, the only drink he had consumed was the one he had given to you and mostly full when it came into your possession.

When the car paused in the Gallagher driveway, wordlessly, Ian had left the car to give the both of you a moment, cautiously entering the chaotic household where most of his siblings had been asleep; Fiona being the only one awake where she had been watching a movie with V as Debbie laid on her lap. Yet, Lip hadn’t even moved his hands from the ignition; he had barely even blinked or twitched.

“Lip,” Your voice whispered, filling in the empty void of the vehicle. He silently looked over with his head slumped against the head seat, “What’s wrong?” Another whisper, your fingers rested comfortably on his knee.

“I just—“ He sighed, “—I don’t like the way he was touching you. Nobody should touch you like that.” He paused thoughtfully amid his heated sentence, clearly hesitant. Though, you remained silent as you were taciturnly aware that he was nowhere near finished.

“What if he wasn’t a creep and it was some guy that could offer you so much better than I could. I don’t want you to get hurt, but I also don’t want to hurt you.” His cerulean optics drifted over to his knee where you had been drawing circles over the denim, his anxious eyes remaining focused before you spoke up and his attention had diverted back to you.

“So don’t.” You offered a faint smile, “You’re not your parents, Lip. Take it one day at a time, if you don’t want to hurt me then you’re not going to.” You shook your head as you spoke.

“You could’ve knocked that guy into oblivion but you didn’t, and I know why you didn’t. I’m not gonna push you; Just take it day by day with me, okay?” He lethargically nodded in response, drinking in your words slowly as they enveloped his brain in a tight squeeze. Your monologue clinging to his mind as he would require those words later on.

Silently, you drifted your eyes back to the house, your eyes retaining on the Gallagher residence as he spoke. “Stay the night?”

You returned your head back to him and grinned in response, pecking his lips a few times before hopping out of the car as he followed. Trudging towards the wrought gate as he gripped at your hand, gently leading you through his house but pausing once to wave at Fiona which she reciprocated with a gleeful nod and a wave.

You had thought you entered his shared room rather quietly, changing into a shrunken pair of basketball shorts and a navy blue sweater both of which had belonged to your boyfriend. As you climbed the bunk, an adolescent boy had begun speaking with sleep lacing his words, “You better not be having sex, I'm trying to sleep.” Carl finished with a snore as he shuffled.

You both hastily muffled your laughs whilst cautiously climbing into the top bunk where his sheets laid messily due to him not making his bed the morning prior. You took very little time situating yourselves, the tip of your chin laying on his shoulder, and you were laid on your stomach. Meanwhile, his arm curled around your back and his stomach had faced the texturized ceiling.

You both laid there silently for a few minutes, maybe even a half-hour. Most likely Ian had passed out on the couch, and Carl’s snores had filled the room so it was a guarantee that it was safe to speak without any eavesdropping.

“I’ll always choose you.”

For a moment you thought he was asleep as well by how still he remained, till his face had carefully turned millimeters from yours. “I don’t care if it’s an Italian mafia man or some belligerent idiot from English class. I’ll always choose you, Philip Gallagher.” You muttered into his shoulder, a tinge of minor embarrassment creeping stealthily up your neck at the sappy confession.

“I’ll always choose you, too.” He whispered back, he wasn’t much for words but he could always muster up a considerable fraction of what you meant to him. Kissing the tip of your nose, he whispered again whilst placing his chin on your forehead. “Now go to sleep, or you’ll be bitchy in the morning.”

taglist: @miiamour @bugswrld @zzzfour @black-rose-29 @sprucewoodlover @bloodyrockwork @myalupinblack

[kurosukii]

𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐡

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x f!reader

summary: your best friend has been dying to know the guy you’ve been fooling around with since your twenty-first birthday; you wish you could tell her, but the mystery man is no other than her father.

genre: smut, age gap, best friend’s dad au

warnings: 18+. DILF KUROO. dubcon, manipulation, slight somnophilia, spanking, pussyjob, alcohol consumption, dumbification, hair pulling, virginity loss (...social construct), oral (f receiving), overstimulation, size kink, corruption kink, daddy kink, daddy issues, dirty talk, degradation, praise, unprotected sex, nipple play, creampie, cumplay, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, choking, spitting, mating press, clit spanks, begging, fingering, slight exhibitionism, finger sucking, tie kink(?? he makes you wear his tie so...)

word count: 5.2k

author’s note: for @sugawara-sweetheart’s decadence collab! thank you so much for letting me join! shoutout to @stopisa for that ✨lovely✨ dilf convo. (dilf kuroo AAAAAAAAAAAAAA) (let me know if i missed any warnings!) (MINORS DNI)

º thank you @meiansmistress and @ssrated1volleyballplayer for editing and beta reading <33

[12:24 PM]

“come on! you have to tell me who he is!”

you grip the handle of your spoon harder than normal, hoping your best friend doesn��t see your reaction.

you open your mouth to say something, but she cuts you off with a comment that makes shame and embarrassment burn through your body.

“you guys were really loud last night! well, you were. i didn’t hear so much as a peep from your man—well aside from the occasional murmurs, which i’m pretty sure was dirty talk…” she trails off, looking lost in thought.

you squirm and wince at the wet pool between your legs. the wet pool being cum that he told you to keep warm just before he left.

she sees your discomfort and laughs at your predicament, clearly thinking it was the aftermath of a hard night of fucking—it was, but she didn’t need to know about the sticky cum that was still inside your pussy.

“he clearly fucked your brains out! at least one of us is getting dick!” she exclaims, her lips forming into a pout as she takes her finished bowl of ramen to the sink and rinses it with water.

yeah, you are getting dick—not just anyone’s dick, however, because it’s her father’s.

your stomach churns at the thought, not from disgust, but from guilt and shame. you are way past getting disgusted with what you’re doing and who you’re doing it with.

not when her father never fails to make you cum at least three times in one night, not when he calls you his good girl and cockslut, and certainly not when you called him over last night because you were so pent up and you needed your daddy’s cock.

last night…

“you’re such a cockslut,” kuroo growled, his balls slapping against your ass as he delivered a hard thrust that had you creaming and moaning all over his cock. you bunched the sheets in your hands, wincing with slight discomfort when he folded your body in half while he pounded relentlessly inside you.

“you should see how dumb you look with your eyes all crossed and teary while your tits are bouncing everywhere.”

you squealed when he roughly flipped you on your stomach, large hands grabbing your hips as he entered you once more. he lifted one hand and slapped your ass in sync with his thrusts.

“so drunk on my cock now, huh? can’t live without it, hm?” kuroo taunted you, one hand squeezing your hip while the other spanked your ass until it was burning with pain. you moaned words incoherently, tongue lolling out as drool seeped from the corners of your mouth.

“daddy! more, please!” you moaned loudly, toes curling from the pleasure.

“you’re brave for calling me over, knowing that only a thin wall is separating you from my daughter’s room,” he hissed, pounding your pussy from behind.

“but i guess that doesn’t matter to you anymore as long as i fill this dirty pussy with my. hot. cum—fuck!” he ended each word with a hard thrust, cursing when your tight cunt clamped down on him.

“faster, daddy! your cock’s filling up my pussy so well—oh my god!” you screamed, partly aware that you shouldn’t scream his name, for fear that your debauchery with your best friend’s father would be revealed too soon.

kuroo indulged you, teeth bared as he pushed your back into a deeper arch, making his cock reach places he hadn’t before. you winced when his large cock teased the entrance of your cervix. it was always a trip taking him—no matter how many times he fucked you, his cock always stretched your pussy wide open.

“w-wait, it h-hurts daddy!” you whined, moving forward to escape the brutal thrusts of his hips so you could adjust your position. he growled in disapproval, tightening his grip on your hips as he roughly pulled you back on his dick.

“take my cock. i know you can do it, whore.” he hissed, moving your body back and forth on his cock like you were a fuckdoll. you moaned from both pain and pleasure as kuroo guided your hips, fingers leaving bruises on your skin.

you cried out when kuroo tugged your hair from its roots, pulling your body upright until your back met his sweaty chest. “yeah that’s a good fucking pussy. come on slut, squeeze daddy’s cock,” he whispered in your ear, teeth biting your earlobe.

“d-daddy i can’t—i’m going to cum!” you squealed, voice cracking as your body started shaking from your fast approaching orgasm.

“i’m going to cum too, baby—and don’t you fucking dare waste my cum,” he growled, wrapping his arms around your body.

you fell forward on your shaking arms, sheets bunched tightly in your fingers as moans and whimpers freely fell from your lips.

“i want it to stay inside your dirty cunt until tomorrow,” he ordered you, reaching for your arms and holding your wrists in one hand, the other slapping your already swollen ass.

you cried out when your face was smothered by the sheets, drool staining the pillow as the headboard continuously thumped against the wall. your body shook with his thrusts, breasts swaying with the movement.

“i want you to look my daughter in the eye and have a normal conversation with her—just like you always do—while you’re thinking about how slutty you are with her father’s cum inside your pussy.”

that was last night. a couple hours ago, if you were to be specific, since kuroo fucked you until you passed out on your bed. you only woke up when your best friend practically broke the door down—bed empty of him, thank god—saying that she made lunch. she looked pretty disheveled herself and she blamed it on your headboard hitting the wall all throughout the night.

you buried your face into the pillow to cover your guilty expression, groaning at the movement because your body was aching all over. she laughed and left you to your own devices, still recovering from him.

he has a crazy appetite for a man his age, to be honest. he may be an older man but he fucks like a teenage boy who recently discovered sex and became hypnotized by the pleasure of it. you lost count of how many times your best friend—his daughter—almost caught you and him fucking around in the apartment, their house, and even his car.

it wasn’t always like this though. there was a time when you only saw him as a fatherly figure and not someone who regularly uses you as a cocksleeve.

maybe it was the way he looked so good with a five-o-clock shadow, or how even with salt and pepper hair, he still acted youthfully. perhaps it was his signature cocky grin that lured your younger and more impressionable self towards him.

in truth, it was your daddy issues that led you to him.

you met your best friend the summer after high school. you bonded quickly over your common interests and quickly learned that it was just her and her dad. she confided in you and told you how lonely he was and she hoped that he would meet a nice and loving woman to take care of him. you comforted her and reassured her that he would meet that woman. if you only knew.

you couldn’t help but admit to yourself how envious you were of her and her father’s relationship, seeing as the one with your own was non-existent. you couldn’t wait to meet him, hoping that he would treat you as his second daughter since your best friend was basically your sister.

she failed to tell you—because why would she?—that her father is an attractive and charming specimen of a man his age. his eyes would crinkle at the sides when he laughed and his feline eyes would always look at you with warmth and tenderness.

you sigh as you put your chin on your fist, the sounds of dishwashing and humming filling your ears as you play the events that eventually led to your risky love affair with her dad.

you really feel ashamed, but it wasn’t your fault that her dad is so good to you. from the moment you met him, he made you feel so loved and appreciated. it was obviously innocent and familial at first, until it turned to something darker, more carnal.

his glances gradually became lingering and he started giving you sly winks that left you burning with desire. you tried so hard to fight it too, but you were too weak against his sweet talk and honey voice.

it was a year or two later that he finally made a move on you.

you figured that with a job that caused him to be in constant public eye, he would avoid fooling around with girls that were decades younger than him, but even with the heavy implications of a scandal, it still didn’t stop him from devouring you.

it all started one night when he invited you guys over, claiming that he missed the both of you. your best friend told you to go first because she was going to be out for her tutoring session. you internally shivered at the thought of being alone with him, not knowing what was going to happen once you were confined in a small space.

the sexual tension was so thick when you arrived and next thing you knew, you had your back on the dining table, legs spread in the air, with his mouth sucking and slurping on your pussy. you came with a scream of his name, cumming so hard for the first time in your life that your body ended up convulsing.

he had laughed at how blissed out you looked. “you taste even better than what i imagined, baby. thanks for the meal,” he purred, winking at you and leaving you to process what happened, hand wiping off the juices from his face as he went back to cooking dinner.

his daughter finally showed up and your face burned the entire time, unable to look her in the eye because not only did her father make you cum minutes prior, but he also was a tease and had his fingers inside your panties while talking to her, fingers slowly tracing circles on your clit.

the topic of conversation was your living situation. he was never happy about how the two of you wanted to live alone together because he insisted that it was better if you guys lived with him. at first you thought it was him being overprotective, but you came to understand it was because he wanted easy access to you.

he ended up fucking your throat that night out of sheer frustration, punishing you for being a bad girl and wanting to be away from your daddy.

you partly hoped it was a one time thing, but you were proven wrong when you had a movie night and your best friend dozed off on the long couch housing the three of you.

kuroo was under your blanket and between your legs in an instant. your shorts hung off of one ankle while he pushed your panties to the side.

“daddy! we shouldn’t be doing this—fuck!” you moaned as his lips sucked your clit into his mouth, tongue lapping up your slick.

“guess you just have to be quiet then, kitten,” he teased you. you arched your back and bit your lip to muffle your scream when he inserted a finger in your dripping cunt while his lips played with your clit.

you had no idea how your best friend didn’t wake up to the sounds of your muffled moans and whimpers, but that thought went away when you started riding her father’s face and cumming all over his mouth.

you became needier after that, eventually losing the hesitancy of being pleasured by him. instead, you anticipated the times when he would make you cum.

the deal was sealed on the night of your twenty-first birthday.

night of your birthday…

“hey girl, the postman came and said this was for you!” your friend slurred, clearly having had too much to drink for just a small and intimate celebration for your twenty-first.

you’d been buzzing the whole day, both from the alcohol and anticipation of what was going to happen later. you woke up to numerous happy birthday texts until you came across the one you’ve been so excited to see. your cunt gushed when you saw your daddy’s text, letting out a little moan at what he said.

happy twenty-first, kitten. you better be wearing my gift when i come over because i’m going to fuck your little pussy tonight.

you sucked in a breath as your face flushed. you held the smooth black nondescript box that was elegantly wrapped with a crimson satin ribbon. you had a pretty solid guess of what was inside and your best friend had as well, because she wiggled her eyebrows and teased you. you sighed, like father, like daughter.

how you were still able to look her in the eye after everything you’ve done and what you’re going to do with her dad is beyond you. his mouth, tongue, fingers—soon to be his cock—truly hypnotized and consumed your conscience and only left neediness in its wake.

you ducked your head to hide the embarrassment on your face while the rest of your friends that came over jeered and whistled as you walked towards your room to leave the box on your bed for safekeeping.

you left it sitting in the center of the bed and went back to the living room to enjoy, skin tingling the whole time in anticipation for your daddy...

you closed the door after saying goodbye to the last group of people and turned to your best friend. “thank you for the lovely little get together,” you thanked her shyly.

“you’re welcome, darling, but i’m sure the main event is just about to happen. tone it down a little, yeah?” she smirked at you, eyes glinting with mischief as she giggled on the way to her room.

you sighed, the guilt that was momentarily forgotten reared its head once more when you were finally alone in your room. it went away again when you studied the gift kuroo gave, nimble fingers leaving light touches on the box settled on your lap as you untied the ribbon.

you rummaged through the white crepe paper until you saw pieces of red lace that were as red as the ribbon that tied the box. he always loved the color, so it wasn’t a surprise that the lingerie he gifted you was of the same shade. your fingers shook when you took them out in front of you. these can barely cover anything, you gulped.

you caught a tinge of gold in the corner of your eye and saw that there was a white card peeking out amongst the paper. the card was lined with gold embellishments and there was a short message printed in red.

kitten, wear these for me. - k.t.

and who are you to not follow daddy’s orders?

you placed the garments at your side and set the box on the floor. you began to undress, removing your cotton bra and panties which you threw on the floor, somehow landing inside the open box.

your naked body was exposed to the cool air and you shivered, head buzzing and eyes slightly drooping from the alcohol you consumed. you took the lace with delicate fingers and gasped upon inspection of the panties.

you were taken aback by the design because not only did it lack enough cloth to cover your entire lower region, but they were crotchless. your mouth dried at the obscenity, hazy mind playing images of kuroo rutting into you without having to remove anything.

that was most likely his intention after all. you slowly stood up from the bed and softly moaned at the slickness between your thighs, pussy clearly excited and aching for his dick. you slipped your legs through them and grabbed the matching bra. you moaned when you clipped it on, nipples hardening when the lacy pattern rubbed against them.

you might as well be wearing nothing with the way you barely felt the fabric against your sensitive skin. you yawned as you laid on your back, the numerous glasses of wine you drank finally caught up with you.

you tried to fight it, you really did. but you were fighting a losing battle with your eyes and besides, you were only going to close them for a bit. you’d wake up before your daddy comes over, right?

you ended up dozing off. you woke up with a moan, alcohol already flushed out of your body. you slightly squirmed as you felt something wet on your tits and a moving pressure in your pussy. you slowly opened your eyes and found a large body looming over you.

“do you know how long i’ve been waiting to fuck you?” kuroo asked, lips pulling away from your clothed nipple with a pop when he realized that you were finally awake.

“three fucking years. yet you had the audacity to be asleep when i arrived? i’m going to wreck your slutty pussy, whore,” he growled as he scissored his long fingers inside your pussy faster. you cried out in pleasure, hands reaching for his wrist as you tried to slow his movements.

“d-daddy, i’m sorry!” you cried as you arched your back. he just grunted and removed his wet fingers from your cunt. you whimpered at the loss because his fingers always felt so good when they moved inside of you. he stared you down instead, large hands loosening his red tie—you noticed that it matched the lingerie you were wearing—and promptly removed it.

he bit his lip as he reached down and made you wear it instead, cock twitching in his pants as he reveled at the sight of you wearing his gift, and in his favorite color no less. he unbuttoned his white dress shirt, muscles rippling from the movement.

even though he didn’t play volleyball all that much anymore, he still maintained his toned body. if it weren’t for his salt and pepper hair, you wouldn’t think he was decades older than you. not that it mattered, anyway.

“you look so sexy in red, kitten,” he whispered, the sound of his belt unbuckling mixing with your heavy breathing. you gulped when you saw that he wasn’t wearing any underwear, eyes widening at the sheer size of him. he stepped out of his pants and smirked when he saw your reaction.

“fuck, your pussy is so pretty. can’t believe i waited this long to fuck it,” he hissed as he spread your legs, your crotchless panties baring your pussy to his eyes, making them twitch under his scrutiny.

he groaned as he rubbed his hard cock on your slit between your folds. you moaned at the stimulation, thankful that he didn’t thrust inside immediately because that would’ve been more painful than pleasurable.

“i was e-eighteen when we first met, y-you could’ve fucked me—oh that feels good—any t-time you wanted to, why didn’t you?” you stuttered as you shivered from the pleasure his slick cock was giving you.

you planted your feet flat on the bed as you took hold of his cock and humped it with fervor, moaning at the slick sounds it made with your lower lips.

kuroo hissed at the increase in stimulation, warm hands grabbing the back of your thighs and folding your legs toward your chest as he thrusted faster between your folds. you moaned louder as you let go of his throbbing cock to bunch the sheets in your fingers.

“you know what they say, good things come to those who wait,” he grunted, hips thrusting faster, making your pussy wetter and slicker.

“besides, you were still a shy and innocent girl back then—until i corrupted you, obviously,” he teased you as he moved one hand to your mouth, inserting his fingers between your lips. you moaned as you sucked, slightly tasting yourself on his fingers.

“i don’t think you could’ve handled this big...fat...cock,” he grunted as he clenched his jaw from the pleasure.

“but now? now you’re my little whore who’s about to know what it feels like to get fucked by a man,” he growled, separating himself from your body. you whimpered, arms reaching out for him but he held your wrists in one hand and placed them above your head.

“you’re already dumb when i fuck you with my mouth and fingers...they’re nothing compared to my dick,” he said frankly, fingertips lightly teasing your puffy clit, aching from the lack of release from the continuous stimulation of his cock. he let go of your wrists and moved his hand to your thigh, fingers circling your skin.

“i-i don’t think your cock will f-fit daddy,” you said in a small voice, staring at his twitching cock.

“nonsense baby, i trained you to deepthroat me, remember?” he reminded you, memories of all the times you sucked his cock filling both your minds.

“i’m going to train this pussy as well. you’ll be begging me to never leave your cunt after i’m done with you,” he declared, positioning himself between your legs again.

“now hump my cock again, kitten. faster this time,” he ordered you, fitting his cock between your lower lips once more.

“yeah just like that—fuck,” he groaned when you ground your clit with more force on his shaft. you cried out at the movement, pussy gushing out more of your juices.

“you like that, hm? like how you’re making my cock wet with your slick?” he taunted you, fingers squeezing the skin of your thigh as he rutted his hips faster.

“can’t wait for me to—shit—bottom out in that tight cunt?” he growled, basking in the heat emanating from your pussy.

you moaned loudly, hips rolling as the knot in your lower stomach threatened to burst. your breasts were freely swaying with each movement your hips made. you threw your head back as your mouth fell open, uncaring of the volume of your cries and whimpers.

“i’m cumming, daddy!” you screamed, pussy clenching around nothing as you drenched your daddy’s cock with your cum. kuroo followed suit, groaning loudly when he released his cum all over your stomach, staining the front of your barely-there panties.

“such a dumb cockslut, you came by just humping my cock?” he teased you. your face warmed in embarrassment, hiding your face in the pillows. kuroo chuckled, honey eyes glinting in mischief. well, he came by just humping your pussy, so he was one to talk.

he spread your lower lips, puffy clit exposed to the air. you shivered at the chill but quickly yelped when he spanked your clit a few times.

“d-daddy!” you exclaimed but he just laughed at you. “just wanted to slap your clit, baby,” he chuckled, hand slapping it once more.

you tried to squirm away from his spanks but he held you in place. he held his throbbing cock with one hand and guided it back to your clenching hole. he rubbed the tip against your sensitive clit before inserting his cock in your pussy.

“t-too big daddy!” you cried out, tears forming in your eyes as his cockhead went past your tight muscle.

“shh baby, i know you can do it. you can take my cock, yeah that’s a good girl,” he cooed, palm flat against your stomach with his thumb rubbing the skin. you sucked in a breath as he slowly slipped his cock inside your virgin pussy inch by inch.

“i’m gonna fuck you so good with my fat cock that you won’t even care if my daughter catches us,” he growled when he bottomed out. you whimpered at the force of his sudden thrust and the implication of what he said. he only let you adjust to his large cock for a few moments before he started thrusting lazily.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he taunted you as his thrusts increased in speed and strength. you moaned louder, body shaking with the thrusting of his hips.

“n-no s-stop! she’s going to hear you!” you begged, voice cracking when he folded your body in half. he began pounding ruthlessly into your pussy, the slick sounds of skin meeting skin filling the air and making you lightheaded from the pleasure.

“so? i dare you to scream my name, slut. watch her bust that door down,” he mocked you, hands pushing your knees further up your chest. you whimpered at the stretch, the sounds of the headboard thumping against the shared wall only served to make you clench around your daddy’s cock.

“fuck—how do you think her face would look when she sees you taking my cock like a good little bitch?” he growled when he felt you squeeze his cock. he grunted as he thrusted faster, balls slapping against your ass.

“yeah just like that, you want me to cum inside you? fill this slutty pussy to the brim? fuck my cum so deep into your pussy that you’ll get pregnant?” kuroo groaned, throwing his head back as he felt his abdomen tighten, the signal that his orgasm was fast approaching.

you held your bouncing tits in your hands, his silk tie only adding to your pleasure as it rubbed against your sensitive skin. “n-no please!” you pleaded, tears falling from your eyes.

“you’re on the pill, aren’t you?” he asked, jaw clenching because he was stopping himself from cumming immediately. he wanted to spill all of his load in one go, after all.

“y-yes daddy b-but—!” you squealed, stinging pain blooming in your chest when kuroo pinched your nipple.

“then take my fucking cum, whore,” he demanded, cock throbbing because he was so ready to spill all of his hot cum.

“n-no daddy! please don’t cum inside me!” you screamed, eyes rolling to the back of your head and tongue lolling out as his cock hit your g-spot.

“shut up and take it,” he growled, hands squeezing your waist as his thrusts grew erratic.

he groaned loudly when he saw your fucked out face, thrusting so deep that his cock teased the entrance of your cervix. his hot cum spurting out of his cock as he filled your pussy.

“daddy you’re cumming so much—oh my god!” you screamed as you came with him, legs shaking from the intense fucking.

“your cum’s filling up my pussy, fuck and it feels so hot too!” you cried out, throat raw from the sounds that came out of your mouth ever since he came inside your room.

kuroo removed his hands from your waist—one hand snaking around your neck, applying slight pressure to the sides as he rode your pussy to prolong his orgasm.

his other hand moved to straighten your leg, rubbing your outer thigh while he cooed at you. “you like my cum, baby?” he asked softly, hips slowly rocking back and forth. you whimpered, your overstimulated pussy aching from his never-ending thrusts.

his movements caused his cum to overflow and seep out the sides of his cock. the mixed fluids fell out of your pussy, sliding down your ass and drenching the sheets beneath you.

“don’t be shy, baby. you can tell daddy if you like his cum,” he encouraged you, leaning down to kiss you languidly on the lips.

“i-i love your cum daddy,” you tell him in between kisses.

“that’s my good girl. happy birthday, my sweet kitten.”

you open your eyes when your best friend throws the damp towel to your face. “quit daydreaming about him! you were moaning ‘daddy! daddy!’ like he was actually fucking you!” she yells while crossing her arms across her chest.

you duck your head in shame. great, now i’m even messier and wetter down there, you grumble. you wince when you hear the squelching sound—dear god i hope she didn’t hear it—as you shift to face her properly while she walks over to you.

“so! tell me more about him, what’s his name?” she asks animatedly, chin resting on her fists as she sits beside you on the island. you swallow thickly, a lump suddenly weighing down in your throat. you inhale a deep breath before coming up with a half-assed lie on the spot.

“he’s a shy and private guy...i’m not telling you his name yet because...i really want you to meet him in person, you know...?” you already know him—you’re related to him! you scream in your head.

your palms feel sweaty as your nerves are on the verge of frying themselves. you bite your lip while you rub your thighs together, wincing immediately as you feel her dad’s cum drench your panties and shorts further.

“well, judging by your reaction right now and the sounds last night, he’s not really the shy type when it comes to bedroom activities,” your best friend pouts at your secrecy and then smirks, eyebrows wiggling.

your face burns in embarrassment and guilt, if only she knew she was talking about her dad.

“anyway, i’m going to the library right now, i’m so done with this paper,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“take care and have fun laz—dad! what’s up? what brings you here?” she squeals in delight when she sees him and jumps into her father’s arms while he kisses the top of her head.

your pussy quivers at the sight of your daddy, and when his eyes land on you, he winks deviously then places his daughter back on the floor.

“can’t i visit my favorite girls on my day off?” he says to her while looking at you. your best friend is clearly oblivious to the desire that was swimming in her father’s sharp eyes.

“well, i’m going to the library to finish my paper. you guys can hang out in the meantime, but don’t watch our show without me!” she says as she walks out the door and ends her sentence with a click.

kuroo locks the door and turns to you, eyes glinting like a predator. he picks your body up and sits on the chair, settling you on his lap and wrapping his long arms around your middle. his large hand cups your cheek and he kisses you, earning a moan from your mouth when his tongue massages yours.

you kiss for a while and then he pulls away from your lips. he grabs your chin firmly, fingers squeezing your cheek open as he spits inside your mouth. you moan while swallowing his spit, hands reaching for his stubbled face before kissing each other sloppily once more.

“you keeping my cum warm for me, kitten?” he asks, lips separating from yours to leave kisses and nips on your jaw. you moan and squirm on his lap as his other hand sneaks inside the waistband of your shorts and inserts two thick fingers in your messy and dripping cunt.

“such a good girl for daddy. you kept his promise,” he growls lowly, biting the skin of your neck and leaving a mark which he soothes with his warm tongue.

“i think my kitten deserves a reward, hm? would you like that?” he asks you, fingers curling inside your tight walls.

“y-yes daddy!” you whimper, grinding your hips on his lap. he smirks and removes his fingers from your cunt and stands up from the chair. you whine at the loss of stimulation and he shushes you with his finger—the one he had inside of you seconds ago.

“let’s go to your room, shall we? daddy missed his favorite girl.”

[1:14 PM]

[yoooespinosa]

hi! i don't know if you write for cedric diggory but i saw in your post that it could be any pair (and also because i love your writings!!). so if it's okay with you, can i please request cedric x ravenclaw!reader. where the reader feels insecure around ced because she's the new gf and is a bit jealous of cho (because they're both in ravenclaw), so ced comes and reassures her that she has nothing to worry about.

a/n: Thank you for your request! Definitely got off track lol.

Ordinary, that’s how you would describe yourself while looking in the mirror. No matter how many times you pinched your cheeks for a flush, pluck your eyebrows or even lather your face in expensive face masks, you couldn’t help but feel ordinary.

You see a dull girl looking back at your reflection, what could you possibly have to offer?

Bringing your face closer to the other you, you try and look. To look and see what he can possibly see.

No matter how hard you search, you find nothing. You sigh, a pout to your lips.

“What’s wrong?” A gentle voice interrupts your heavy observation. “You’ve been staring at yourself for close to an hour.”

You almost groan, you must look like a weirdo.

You turn to face the girl that was leaning against the door frame that leads into your shared bathroom.

She was beautiful. Everything about her was beautiful, her eyes, her hair, her cheekbones, the shape of her lips, even her voice was beautiful. Cho had to be perfect. It didn’t help that she had such a good heart.

She was so perfect, you wanted to strangle her. How could Cedric, your beautiful boyfriend, go after you when he had a girl like Cho before?

You couldn’t possibly comprehend it.

You open your mouth to answer her, but then cut yourself off. “Nothing important.”

You pass by her concerned gaze, heading to your bed, letting your insecurities run wild once your head hits the pillows.

If you had stayed any longer you might have asked something stupid like, “am i pretty?” and you didn’t need the possibility of your fears being confirmed.

Cedric and Cho had broken up a year ago. They both agreed they were better off as friends. A few months after their breakup, he took a liking to you. He did everything in his power to win your affections, it was easy to fall for him. Cho had been supportive of it too, even helping him woo you.

So you don’t know why you have these doubts, even when your months in with Cedric.

You’re not even sure when you started the comparison of yourself. Always questioning everything you did, ‘Did Cho do this?’ or ‘Did he prefer to do this with Cho, rather than you?’

You even started comparing yourself to all the other girls that still shamelessly flirted with Cedric. Knowing he was taken didn’t seem to stop them. It didn’t help that even they were beautiful. You were scared that maybe one day he’d see it too and leave you for them. Or realize he made a mistake with breaking things off with Cho.

You felt like a shadow compared to him, Cho and every other pretty girl that glanced his way. You felt as if you were watching him live his life, while you sat quietly, watching for a little tell sign of his doubts of you.

But he gave away nothing. He gave you everything though. He gave you his love and you wondered why that wasn’t enough to kill those running thoughts.

He looks at you with nothing but love and admiration in his eyes. Yet, you still tear yourself apart every night. Thinking of solutions on how you can just be better. You pick yourself apart, until your numb.

You fell asleep with the echo of your unanswered why’s.

“Ready?” Cedric asks, taking a hold of your hand.

You hum in agreement, letting him pull you up.

You both just finished lunch and planned on heading to his dorm to hang out there. You hadn’t brought up any of the thoughts that were burning through your skull the other night and you didn’t plan to.

You focused on the path ahead, not noticing the stolen glances from the boy next to you.

Entering his dorm, you both take off your shoes and place them next to the door. You put your bag down and just take in the room. Trying to let the familiar space sooth your nerves.

“You’ve been feeling alright?” He asks, looking at you through his lashes.

“Fine.” Nodding your head, but you think the bags under your eyes speak a different truth.

“Cho’s been telling me that you’ve seemed off,” He paused, then adding “lately.”

You faintly wondered why he said it like that, but inwardly shaking it off as you processed his words.

“You and Cho talk about me?”

You wanted to ask that they talked in general, but you knew they did. You weren’t sure why the thought filled you with a sense of dread, why your chest compacted in with it.

That little voice in your head was making up all these sinful scenarios, flashing before your eyes that you almost felt like you were going to be sick.

“We’re friends,” He says gently, almost like he sees how fragile you are, how one wrong word could be the downfall. “she’s your friend also. And she’s just been a little concerned.”

You chewed on your lip, cutting up your gums, stopping yourself from saying anything you’d regret after. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

He sighs and stares at you for a second longer, it seemed like he was searching for something that you weren’t sure you wanted him to find, so you turn your eyes away.

You heard his footsteps walking to the other side of his bed, followed by the sound of his drawer opening.

“Here,” You looked up to find him holding a brown cable knit sweater, your favorite one he owned.

It brought a small smile to your face, making an ounce of relief flood his chest.

You mumbled your gratitude, then taking your leave to the restroom to change. A shadow fell over his eyebrows, you’d always just change in front of him.

He didn’t linger on the thought for too long once he heard the click of the door and your light footsteps.

You made your way to his bed, gently prying the sheets open and sinking into the warmth. You turned your back towards him, closing your eyes, and letting the sound of the changing of his clothes fill the air.

A dip to the side of you and arms enclosing in on you, dragging you into more warmth. Yet, the coldness in your chest stayed.

You clenched your eyes shut and prayed for sleep. This was your favorite part of day, these naps with Cedric, his dorm room empty and the chance to be alone without anyone in sight to compare yourself to.

But even with his arms around you and the smell of him surrounding the space you were in, didn’t stop the whispers of the troubled.

He must of felt how tense you were, different from the way you so easily melted into him.

“Y/n.” He whispers, you felt him shift behind you, his arms loosening.

You clenched your eyes tighter, trying to even out your breaths, but even you knew that it was not possible to fall asleep that fast.

“Y/n,” He hovers over you a little, looking at your face with an unimpressed expression. “i know you’re not sleeping.”

You unclench your eyes, steeling yourself, for the conversation you knew was bound to happen. Opening your eyes, you met his soft bright ones. His eyes, that spoke everything you wished you’d just believe.

“Yes?” You mumble softly, peeking at him through your lashes.

He stares at you a second longer, then kisses your cheek. “Talk to me.”

“About what?” You were never good at playing oblivious.

“About what’s going on in your head that’s making you look at me like that.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “Looking at you, like what?”

“Like i’m a stranger,” He mumbles sadly. “like i’m someone you should be wary of.”

Guilt washed over you, you didn’t know you were so translucent. You never wanted Cedric to be affected by the problems you were inflicting on yourself.

“That’s not true.” An obvious lie.

“It is.” He corrects you. “You can talk to me, you know that right? We’ll never fix anything, if you don’t talk to me.”

He was right, no matter how much you didn’t want to talk about this. You knew you needed to at some point. And it was looking as if that time was now.

“I just-“ You tried again. “Do you ever have, i don’t know, doubts?”

“Doubts?” You turn so your laying on your back now, him still half hovering over you. “About what?”

“Like,” A long sigh escapes past your lips, unwilling. “Do you ever regret getting with me?”

He gapes at you, almost looking offended of the question. “Why would you even ask that?” He sits up, causing you to follow.

“I don’t kn-“

“Do you think i regret it?” He rephrases, “Do i make it seem like regret it?”

Every scenario of him and you together flashes in blurs through your head and no he didn’t, the opposite actually. He looked at you as if you were the sun, as if you were brighter than the sun.

“No.” You mumble weakly, ashamed that even that revelation didn’t seem to dampen your insecurities.

“Then i’m confused on what brought this on.”

“Why are you with me, when you can be with someone as beautiful as Cho.” You meant for it to come out as a question, but it sounded like a statement.

Maybe you did mean to say it like that, it’s what you believed, the only thing you weren’t questioning the truth of.

You hear him get up and you feel as if your heart stopped beating. This is it, this was what you were preparing yourself for, you thought to yourself. Eyes already blurring.

Then a warm hand in yours, pulling you up. You stumble a little, but he steadies you, always keeping you grounded. Next thing you know he’s dragging you along to the bathroom. Confusion is clear on your face.

“What?” You mumble more to yourself.

He brings you in front of the mirror, the full body length one in the corner of the room. He stands behind you, towering over your smaller frame.

“Look at yourself.” He demands softly, when you don’t cast your eyes away from his.

You oblige, catching your own eyes. You furrow your eyebrows.

“What are you thinking about right now?” He asks, his hands ghosting over your waist.

“How could you possibly love me when i can’t even love myself?”

He looked pained by your words, that you could even have those thoughts.

“I’ll love you enough for the both of us.”

You give him a weak smile, “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Then i’ll help you love yourself.” He adds, desperately. “I’ll make you see what’s to love about you.”

He grips you harder, taking away the response you had.

“Look,” Because your eyes had ventured to his once again.

His thumbs brushed over your body, the side of your face, until they landed under your eyes. Covering the dark circles from view, he smoothed them out gently.

“Your eyes,” He began softly. “they have to be the most captivating eyes i’ve ever seen. They were the first thing i noticed about you, the first thing that pulled me in.”

His fingers brushed over your nose, curving in with it.

“This adorable nose,” He pinches it softly. “home to the freckles i could spend all my time counting.”

He brushed over your cheeks, leaving a pink blush. His fingers stopped at your lips.

“Have to be the most kissable lips out there.” He drags your bottom lip down with his thumb. “I could spend hours just kissing you, these lips.”

His knuckles brush over your neck.

“Where else am i supposed to leave my marks that show everyone your mine?”

He spends an hour at least, going through why he loved every feature about you. Talking about the way you bewitched him with your looks, with your heart.

“Can’t you see how you’re the cause of my euphoria?” His chin was resting on your shoulder, his eyes burning into yours, you never felt more loved than right now.

Those whispers dimmed in comparison to his loving words.

His hands were still roaming slowly over you, like he couldn’t get enough, you were sure he couldn’t get enough.

“What do you see?” He whispers, once your eyes take yourself in again.

“I see-“ You think for a second, really think. “I see potential.”

Potential to love yourself. Potential to accept the love he gave you. Potential to feel worthy to have him. Potential to see that he picked you.

And from then, every so often he would drag you to the mirror and do it again. Adding something new each time.

Until potential turned to beauty. Undeniable beauty. Until the whispers were nothing more than the self assured.

[obiwanobi]

I blame @quiet-oracle and @theevildevices for this, because I couldn’t resist the urge to write 2k of hurt/comfort for the ‘Jedi but enemies’ AU, where Qui-Gon trained Anakin, and now him and Obi-Wan are well-known for despising each other but working exceptionally well together when they’re not lost in ridiculous banters and petty arguments to hide the fact that they’ll be lost without each other;

Obi-Wan winces.

Skywalker’s hand immediately withdraws. “Does it bother you when I—”

“Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“The answer is still the same.” 

Skywalker’s sigh is heavier than the entire Republic navy.

His mouth is too close to Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and he shivers as a result. But it’s only because the cold of the never-ending rain outside still lingers on their clothes and in their bones, even under the tent and close to the portable heater that a clone is still trying to adjust. And also because he’s been sitting there bare-chested for the past five minutes, with Skywalker’s clumsy fingers poking at his hip and ribs, probably way harder than necessary, just to see him suffer. 

“I can apply a bacta patch myself, you can go n—”

“Would you please shut up? We both know a bacta patch wouldn’t be enough.” 

Only the sound of a packet of antiseptic wipes being opened, gauze being stretched and the clone pushing buttons with no effect can be heard for a moment. 

 “I don’t think you’ve ever said ‘please’ to me before,” Obi-Wan notes lightly, then grimaces when Skywalker starts pulling on the cloth pressed to his side.

“Don’t get used to it. But if it’s the only way to make you stop being so difficult and contradictory all the time, I will gladly say it more.”

Instead of looking at his own wound —the pain in his hip is enough, thank you, he doesn't need to see the extent of the damages— Obi-Wan glances at Skywalker. Gaze focused and mouth in a thin line, there’s only concentration written on his face. 

No one could guess that only half an hour ago, on the battlefield, panic and terror were the only two emotions Skywalker was projecting loud enough in the Force to bring Obi-Wan out of unconsciousness.

Unbelievable, Obi-Wan has thought once he was aware enough to realise that it was Skywalker's hands on his face and Skywalker’s voice in his ear, begging him to come back. He would find a way to be annoying enough to drag me out of a coma if he could. 

Surprisingly, the thought has felt like a comfort. 

The clone working on the heater stands up suddenly. Obi-Wan almost forgot about him. He nods his head towards them, and goes out of the tent at the exact same moment Hyoid enters.

At the sight of the clone, all modicum of appreciation for Skywalker evaporate. 

“You called a medic?” Obi-Wan scowls, with the tone of someone who has just been the victim of a vicious mutiny. 

“Of course I called a medic. Half of your tunic is covered in your own blood and you were knocked out for a while earlier, what do you think I was going to do? Tell you to go back out there and watch you slowly bleed to death?”

“Generals,” the medic calls. In vain.

“You would enjoy that,” Obi-Wan grumbles.  

“Well, yes, but then the Council will ask me why I let you die just a few meters away from a first aid kit, and then I’ll have to explain that I gently push it away from your weak hands every time you reached for it, and how will I look, then?”

“Like someone who could have let me die on the battlefield and get away with it, but decided instead to choose the most idiotic and time-consuming option available, and I would have enjoyed that very much.” 

“Generals.” 

“Exactly,” Skywalker nods, “and I can’t let you enjoy things.”

“I know. Don’t think I never realised who was flushing the toilets every time I was in the shower when the hot water came back two days ago.”

“You were so cheerful,” Skywalker says, as if the mere thought disgusts him. “I took that as a personal affront.”

“Sirs, please,” Hyoid implores louder. Both Jedi turn towards him, almost surprised to see him there. “I’m just here to see General Kenobi’s injury, I’m sure you can continue your conversation right after. Sirs. Please.” 

It takes them a second to realise that they’re sitting so close together that Obi-Wan’s hand has settled on Skywalker’s knee when they weren’t paying attention, while Skywalker’s fingers are still maintaining Obi-Wan’s pants low on his hip so it won’t come in contact with the long gash on his side. The intimacy of the scene isn’t completely lost on Skywalker, it seems, because he rushes to take his hands away and stands next to his chair, suddenly too self-conscious to know what to do with himself. 

“I’m very sorry about him,” Obi-Wan apologises, as the medic takes Skywalker’s seat and starts assessing the mess Skywalker undoubtedly made of his hip and ribs. “He’s a rescue. He still has no idea how to behave appropriately in polite society.”

An outraged noise comes from Skywalker behind him, and despite the throbbing pain, Obi-Wan can feel the corners of his mouth turning up. A hiss replaces his smile rapidly enough when Hyoid applies a spray and starts cleaning what Skywalker missed, before pressing stingy patches on the wound. 

The medic is wise enough not to reply to him, but it doesn’t stop him from making a comment or two about how ‘this isn’t superficial sir, you should be more careful from now on,’ or ‘you’ll have to change the bandages, and I’ll get some pills for you to take’ and ‘ok, now let’s see your head, sir, don’t think General Skywalker didn’t mention it’.

His head is, indeed, becoming heavier by the minute, and he can feel himself growing too tired to care enough to listen carefully after that. Once he gives up answering questions and lets Skywalker do it for him, Obi-Wan doesn’t even need to concentrate to feel him poking obnoxiously at him in the Force, testing the limits of his consciousness. It reminds him a bit of when Skywalker was a child, tugging on his robe every two minutes to make sure he was paying attention to him.

No wonder Obi-Wan always tried to avoid him.  

“All right,” the medic finally says, pulling him out of his reverie. He stands up, seemingly satisfied. “I’ll get you your pills, and then you should rest.”

Rest sounds amazing. Obi-Wan would kill Skywalker for a good mattress and a soft pillow right now. But it doesn’t mean anything; he would probably kill Skywalker for two minutes of peace on the best of days. 

The sudden silence that falls under the tent once Hyoid is gone seems almost unnatural. Obi-Wan doesn’t understand why the faint pitter-patter of the rain outside unsettles him so much, until he realises that it’s the first time since the battlefield that he’s alone with Skywalker. 

“Are you going to keep sulking behind me?” Obi-Wan asks, finding his robe discarded on the floor and wondering if it’s worth leaning down to get it. No reply comes. “Well, you heard the medic. You can go now. I, unfortunately for you, will still live to see another...” he trails off as two arms slide over his shoulders from behind, wrapping around his neck and resting there. 

Skywalker is warm against him.

For a second, Obi-Wan thinks he’s finally going to strangle him, but a golden head falls on his shoulder gently, face hidden by a cascade of curls, tickling Obi-Wan's neck and collarbone. 

“Skyw—”

“Don’t be an insufferable asshole for a minute,” Skywalker mumbles, breath hot against his bare skin. “Just let me have this.” 

Ah. It’s one of those moments, then. 

He thought they were done with that for the day after what happened on the battlefield. Earlier.

With Skywalker’s face looming over him. Eyes so wide and so blue. One hand pressed against the wound in his side to stop the bleeding, one hand twisted in Obi-Wan’s tunic, right above his heart. 

Being the one injured and barely conscious, but also being the one calming Skywalker down. Managing to get him to release his death-grip on him. Assuring him that he wasn’t going to die.

Promising it. 

Twice.

Soothing the Hero with No Fear as he would soothe a lost and abandoned child.

“I told you already,” Obi-Wan says quietly. It feels wrong to speak louder when he knows they won’t look at each other for some time after that. “It’s all right. I’m fine now. It’s over.”

The arms around him tighten, mirroring the weight of Skywalker’s presence in the Force around Obi-Wan. 

“I thought you’d left me,” Skywalker says accusingly, sounding remarkably like his nine-year-old self. “I thought you’d left me behind again.”

Obi-Wan closes his eyes, as if not seeing it would erase the fact he’s indulging his instinct to nuzzle his face against Skywalker’s hair. He smells like the rain, muddy but fresh, and feels like lingering distress in the Force. It’s far from pleasant to remain close to such an unbalanced mind, and their position isn’t comfortable either. But Obi-Wan doesn’t shiver from the cold anymore. So they don’t move.

They’ve earned that second of weakness.

Obi-Wan’s hand comes up to scratch at Skywalker’s head gently, fingers tangling with unruly locks of hair. Slowly, his muscles relax and he leans into the touch, chest slumped against Obi-Wan’s back. Skywalker’s face turns towards his throat, nestled under his jaw, before exhaling, deep and warm. In the Force, Skywalker’s signature curls against Obi-Wan’s and quiets down to a low satisfied rumble, dragged away from dread and terror one caress at a time.

Obi-Wan’s mind is suddenly way too tired to be bothered by the tenderness of it all.

“I’m here now, with you,” he whispers in his hair. “That’s all that matters.”

It’s a quiet apology that Skywalker accepts with a satisfied humming noise that resonates in Obi-Wan’s whole body.

It feels a bit like an apology for more. For everything. For all the times he avoided and pushed him away as a child. For condemning him for reasons he didn’t want to admit to himself. For wanting to blame him, for taking his master away, for being such a better padawan than he was, for rubbing it in his face.

For wanting to be his friend, always. 

Obi-Wan has been wrong for so long.

When the medic comes back, Skywalker is kneeling in front of the heater, cursing it quietly, and Obi-Wan is adjusting his robe around his shoulders with slow movements. 

“All right, sir, this is what you’ll have to take before every meal,” Hyoid says, showing him a small bottle, before putting a white box on the table. “And these are the bandages and the bacta to change every day. I would advise you not to do it yourself, and if you don’t have anyone to—“

“I’ll do it,” Skywalker declares without looking up, and Obi-Wan immediately narrows his eyes.

“You? I can’t even trust you with my toothpaste tube, what makes you think—“

“I don’t care what you say Kenobi, there is no wrong way to squeeze toothpaste!”

“There is, and you do it on purpose. What kind of savage would squeeze it right in the middle—”

Skywalker suddenly turns towards Hyoid, talking over him. “How many pills would it take to be considered a lethal dose, do you think?” 

It is, of course, the one comment that ignites a virulent and pointless argument that makes the poor medic reconsider all his life choices and wonder if chloroforming Jedi generals would get him court-martialed.

After seven minutes of a loud and dramatic dispute ending with Skywalker promising to never take part in anything related to Kenobi anymore, except maybe his funeral, Hyoid decides to risk it.

[hotshotsxyz]

like it means something

buddie (2.8k) (read it on ao3)

Evan. His own name won’t stop rattling around in his head. Evan.

He brings Eddie home from the hospital and everything’s - not okay, Eddie still got hurt and Buck still had to watch it and Bobby’s still hurt too, but - they’re getting there. No one died, and that’s a hell of a lot better than it could’ve been. No one died.

Evan.

Eddie kisses Chris’s forehead and Buck grins wide, because yeah, of course he would take care of him if the worst happened, but this is what Christopher deserves. His family, alive and whole and well.

Taylor’s there. Of course she is, Buck’s mind supplies, you asked her to be. She’s your friend. More than a friend? Buck doesn’t know. There’s a lot to unpack there, and with everything else that’s happened, they haven’t had the time. It’s a conversation for another day.

Abuela, Pepa and Carla each take their turn fussing over Eddie and then, to Buck’s surprise, him too. He doesn’t understand why. Eddie got shot, not him. Eddie’s the one who hasn’t been home in a week, not him. Eddie -

Evan.

Buck’s at a loss. It’s a party of sorts, but Eddie’s exhausted and so is he. Buck feels completely wrung out, and he can see the tension in Eddie’s expression that says he does too. He wants to tell everyone else to leave, but it isn’t his place. Still, though, Taylor seems to get the hint first. She pulls him aside with a gentle hand to his shoulder.

“I’m going to head out. Is there anything you need?” she asks.

Buck shakes his head mutely.

“Just... get some rest, okay? I know you want to take care of him, but you’re not the only one who can.” She presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, then heads over to where Eddie and Ana are seated at the dining room table to make her excuses.

Taylor is half right and half wrong. There are other people that can take care of Eddie, but Buck won’t be able to rest unless he’s nearby.

Evan.

Abuela and Pepa leave next, citing the sinking sun and the growing weariness in Eddie’s movements. They each kiss him on the cheek and go with the promise to return in the morning. Abuela’s left behind enough food to feed an army for a week, stacked in the fridge in carefully labeled Tupperware.

Then Carla goes and it’s just Eddie, Ana, Buck and Chris.

Evan.

Buck should probably go, he knows, but he can’t quite bring himself to. He knows Eddie’s okay, has the living proof sitting right in front of him, but the second he looks away all the tension of the week returns, the fear and anxiety mixing sickeningly in his stomach.

Christopher has fallen asleep in Eddie’s lap, head tucked into his good shoulder. Eddie himself is fighting yawns. It’s been a long day.

Finally, it’s Ana who breaks the silence, standing and pressing a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “Get some rest,” she says. “And text me if you need anything.”

It’s virtually the same thing Taylor said to him, and it strikes Buck as odd. They’ve been together, what, six months now? She should be saying more. Maybe she’s not because he’s here. Buck still can’t bring himself to leave.

Evan.

Neither of them has moved in the minutes since Ana left, but Eddie’s eyes are starting to drift and Buck knows he needs to sleep.

“Let me take Chris,” he says softly.

The grateful nod Eddie gives him is a testament to just how tired he really is.

Buck picks him up carefully and carries him to bed. He tucks him in and presses a kiss into his forehead. Once upon a time, he might’ve wondered if that was his place. Not now, though, not after everything Eddie said. He loves this kid like his own; he’s not going to pretend it’s anything less.

Evan.

He flicks the light out and makes sure Chris’s night light is on before gently shutting the door. Wordlessly, he returns to Eddie’s side.

There’s a grimace of pain on Eddie’s face that hadn’t been there before, and a quick glance at the clock tells Buck that he’s way past due for another round of medication. He grabs the pills and a bottle of water from the kitchen.

“The doctor said I can give you ibuprofen, too, if this isn’t enough.”

Eddie shakes his head minutely. “No, this is okay.” He swallows the pills Buck offers him dry, then washes them down with a swig of water.

“You need to sleep,” Buck says. “I should-“

“Stay, please?” Eddie interrupts him.

And how could Buck say no to that?

Evan.

Buck’s barely asleep when he hears Eddie cry out. He’s on his feet in a second and by Eddie’s side in less.

Eddie’s asleep still, but his face is scrunched and he’s curled in on himself like he’s trying to make himself smaller. Buck places a hand on his leg and shakes him gently.

Eddie shoots up, hissing in pain and clutching his shoulder. His eyes dart wildly around the room, unseeing.

“Hey, hey, just a dream, you’re okay,” Buck says.

Eddie’s eyes are wide with fear as they meet Buck’s. He sucks in a ragged, shuddering breath, then sags.

“I- you. You were- fuck,” Eddie stutters, scrubbing a hand across his face.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Buck repeats. He pulls Eddie to his chest. “You’re okay.”

Buck rocks them back and forth gently as his shirt slowly grows wet with Eddie’s tears.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Eddie gasps against him. Buck just holds him tighter.

“Don’t be,” he murmurs, “I’ve got you.”

Eventually, Eddie pulls back, wiping his eyes with his good hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Buck asks after a moment.

Eddie shakes his head but begins to speak anyway. “It was- I saw you, covered in blood and I couldn’t... couldn’t move, or, or help you. And- and then you were coughing up blood, just like at the party, and I tried, Buck I tried but it was like I was stuck in quicksand and I couldn’t-“ Eddie’s breathing has gone ragged again, so Buck grabs his hand.

“Me?” he can’t help but ask.

“Evan,” Eddie says, so tenderly it hurts.

Evan.

They fall asleep curled together, Eddie’s hand resting over Buck’s heart. It’s the first decent sleep Buck’s had since the shooting.

They don’t talk about it the next day, mostly because Buck doesn’t know what to say. He suspects Eddie doesn’t either.

Instead, much to Christopher’s delight, Buck makes pancakes. The three of them eat together on the couch, watching some cartoon that Chris seems interested in and Buck’s never seen before. It’s so painfully normal. Buck was terrified he’d never get to have this again, and now that he does he can’t shake the feeling that the other shoe is going to drop.

Evan.

That night, Eddie wordlessly pulls Buck into his bedroom. They lay facing each other in the dark. Buck wants nothing more than to bridge the gap between them, but it might as well be the Grand Canyon.

There’s not much light in the room, just the ambient glow of the city filtering in through the cracks in the blinds. It’s enough to see Eddie’s face by, but it doesn’t help Buck read his inscrutable expression. He eventually gives up trying and closes his eyes.

He’s stiff, and sleep evades him. If Eddie’s shifting is any indication, he’s still awake too. Finally, Eddie heaves a sigh and, to Buck’s surprise, wraps a hand around Buck’s wrist and pulls. Buck opens his eyes and sees the silent question in Eddie’s.

Is this okay?

Buck presses himself into Eddie’s space without hesitation.

Evan.

Eddie has a doctor’s appointment the next day, and Buck’s agreed to meet Taylor for coffee after dropping him off. Carla’s with Chris for the day, to help him with school, leaving Buck with a free hour on his hands for the first time in over a week.

His stomach has been in knots all morning. He’s not sure if it’s the prospect of letting Eddie out of his sight for the first time since he’s been home, or the conversation he knows he’s about to have with Taylor.

Because he’s thought about it, and the idea of being with Taylor… he’s kidding himself. Before, maybe. But now, after, with the mess of feelings he has twisting in his chest - he’s not in a place to start something new. He’s not even sure he wants it - her - anymore. Taylor’s great, but she could never fill the hole that was punched in his chest by the same bullet that tore through Eddie’s shoulder.

He’s starting to wonder if he’ll spend the rest of his life dividing things into before and after.

Taylor’s already seated when he arrives, fingers wrapped around a cardboard coffee cup that’s still steaming. Buck almost expected to change his mind when he saw her, to suddenly remember why he was interested in the first place, but mostly he’s just anxious to get back to Eddie. He doesn’t even really feel the old curl of attraction he’s used to. He sits in front of her, suppressing a sigh.

Taylor looks up at him, wearing an expression he can’t quite decipher. “Buck,” she says.

Evan.

“Hey, Taylor.”

“You don’t want coffee?” She asks, inclining her cup towards him.

Buck shakes his head. “Had some this morning,” he shrugs. “Don’t want to get jittery.”

Taylor frowns slightly, but doesn’t say anything.

They sit in awkward silence for what feels like an eternity before Buck finally breaks it.

“Look, Taylor,” he sighs. “There’s a lot going on right now, and I just… whatever this thing is between us, I’m not sure I have the space to figure it out. You deserve someone who’s all in, and I just can’t be right now.”

Taylor blows out a breath. “Oh thank god,” she says.

And that’s… unexpected. Buck raises a brow.

“You’re my friend, and I care so much about you, but I- I was scared, and I didn’t know what to do with it, so I told myself it was something else.” Taylor doesn’t look him in the eye. “All this earnestness is making me nauseous,” she jokes weakly.

Buck huffs out a short laugh. The tightly wound anxiety in his gut loosens, just a bit. “Friends, then?”

Taylor finally looks at him and smiles. “Friends,” she agrees.

“How was coffee?” Eddie asks. He’s looked vaguely constipated since Buck picked him up, but insists that his appointment went fine.

“Good,” Buck replies honestly. “We’re on the same page.” He’s driving, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees Eddie’s face do something complicated.

“Good,” he says. “That’s good.” There’s a beat of silence. “So you’re… together, then?”

Buck glances at Eddie, whose eyes are fixed on the road ahead of them. His expression is carefully neutral, but tight around the edges. Buck huffs a soft breath. “Nah,” he says. “End of the day it wasn’t what either of us wanted.”

Some of the tension bleeds out of Eddie’s posture. “Oh. I, uh- are you okay with that?”

Buck chuckles lightly at that. “Yeah, Eds. Pretty sure I’ve got everything I need right now.”

Evan.

Sleeping in the same bed at night becomes something of a habit, just like not talking about it does. It’s not that Buck doesn’t want to. He’s just… not sure how. What do you say when you’ve got so many feelings that you can’t even begin to decipher them, and the only thing you know for sure is that the thought of letting your best friend out of sight for more than a few minutes sends you careening towards a panic attack? There’s not exactly a greeting card for that.

This song and dance, though, it’s familiar. Comforting, in its own way. They’ve always flirted with the line between friendship and more, daring to put a toe over it, but never to take an actual step. Buck can’t help but wonder if this is a step, and they’re both just too chickenshit to admit it.

Evan.

“Where’s Ana?” Buck asks one morning, apropos of nothing. “I would’ve expected to see her around more often.”

Eddie stiffens. “We, uh, we broke up.”

Buck whirls around, nearly flinging egg against the backsplash. “When?”

“After the party.” Eddie shrugs uncomfortably.

Buck’s eyebrows raise. “I’ve been with you 24/7 since then,” he says. The question is obvious.

Eddie rubs a hand through his hair and frowns sheepishly. “I… texted her?”

Buck’s jaw drops. “You ended a 6-month relationship, a week after you got shot, over text?”

“In my defense, I was on a lot of painkillers. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Buck can’t help but laugh, throwing his head back. After a moment, Eddie joins in.

“That,” Buck says between giggles, “was not cool, man!”

“Nope,” Eddie agrees.

It’s the best either of them has felt in weeks.

The night after Buck’s first shift back at the station, Eddie has the worst nightmare he’s had since that first night. It takes Buck three tries to wake him, and the glassy look in his eyes remains far longer than he’d like.

“Please be careful,” Eddie says finally. “You have to- I can’t-“

“I promise,” Buck says, holding him tight to his chest.

Evan.

It’s Buck’s own nightmare that brings things to a head.

He’s been sleeping surprisingly peacefully since Eddie’s return home, but when the nightmares do return, they’re the worst he’s had.

He dreams he’s stuck beneath the firetruck, white-hot pain radiating up his leg, watching helplessly as Eddie bleeds out in front of him. Eddie tries to drag himself to Buck, but each pull makes the wound gush even more blood. Buck tries to yell for him to stop, but he can’t make his jaw work.

He finally wrenches it open, only to find himself sitting bolt upright in bed. His throat feels raw, like he’s been screaming, and Eddie’s hand is clutching his forearm. He knows where he is, but the panic from his dream isn’t receding. It grows louder and louder, until finally, Eddie’s voice cuts through.

“Evan!” He says sharply. “You’re okay, you’re fine. You’re in my room, with me. We’re both okay.”

Buck sags and falls back against the pillow, willing his breathing to slow. “You keep saying that,” he whispers in the dark.

“What?”

“My name. Like it means something.”

“It does,” Eddie says. “Every single piece of you matters.”

And Buck… Buck almost believes him.

Evan.

The elephant in the room grows larger every day, but still, they don’t talk about it. For all intents and purposes, Buck lives at Eddie’s. It’s been months. Eddie doesn’t physically need his help anymore, but neither is willing to let the other go. With Eddie’s return date drawing nearer, though, it’s getting harder to ignore.

Buck doesn’t want to ask, but he has to. He’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop since practically the first night, and he can’t take it anymore. He decides to soften the blow with pancakes.

“I should probably go back to my apartment,” he says, as casually as he can manage, as if the words don’t feel like ripping his still-beating heart out of his chest. Buck tries not to examine that feeling too closely.

“You need something?” Eddie asks, like it hasn’t even occurred to him that Buck might not come back.

“No, I-“

“Oh,” Eddie says. His expression goes carefully blank.

“I just-“ Buck tries to explain.

Eddie holds up a hand forestalling him. “I get it,” he says. “It’s fine.”

Buck swallows, ignoring the voice in his head that says definitively that it’s not.

Evan.

Buck’s out the door, duffle in hand, when Eddie stops him.

“Buck, wait,” he says, “Evan!”

Buck drops his bag in surprise and turns, only to find Eddie much closer than he expected.

“Don’t go,” Eddie says in a rush. “Stay, please. I need you here. With me.”

Buck gapes at him, as slowly the knot of emotions in his chest begins to unravel. The string that encircles the edges, that one he knows well: fear. The one beneath it: anger, at the sniper and the universe for hurting Eddie all over again. Hope and devastation intermingle, while grief lay coiled off to the side.

And the string that runs through the middle, holding it all together… that’s love.

Oh.

Buck gets it now.

He takes a step forward, closing the minuscule gap between him and Eddie. “I don’t want to go,” he whispers.

“Then don’t.”

Buck kisses him, soft and sweet. A promise, one which Eddie returns in kind.

There’re still a million things to talk about, but for once in his life, Evan Buckley is pretty sure he has all the words he needs.

[venushasvixens]

Let’s Stay Together - Spike Spiegel x Reader One-Shot

[A/N] Shout out to @nathaslosttheirshit for this request, EVERYBODY LOVES A LOVERS REUNITED TROPE IT WORKS EVERYTIME 🪐🌙✨

WARNING: some suggestive material (references to 18+ material BUT nothing happens)

“Hello you.”

“Long time no see.”

On your to-do list today was going to the grocery store, grabbing more supplies for your ship and weapons, and treating yourself to a little self-care. It did not involve seeing your ex for the first time since you both parted ways so long ago. Usually for the other partners in your life, the conversation following would be so awkward and stressful. You never felt this way about Spike.

“You know her?” A violet-haired woman questioned, her hand resting on her hip.

Spike nodded. “Old flame.”

“I’d say the best of them all.” You replied, your grip on your groceries loosening.

“Well I mean-“ Spike smirked, shrugging. You punched him in his shoulder playfully, giggling. Just like old times.

“I always will be, admit it. Spike and I used to have so much fun together. Didn’t we?” You said, smiling up at him.

“Her definition of fun was sleeping in all day.” Spike stated.

“Sounds like my kind of girl.” The woman joked. “I think I’m going to leave you two to it.”

As she walked away, you turned back to Spike. Catching his gaze, you can tell by the look in his eyes how much he missed you. The feeling was completely mutual. So long ago was Spike the biggest love of your life. Everyday was spent together, every second was so full of kindness and affection. Sure you guys slept in a lot, but there were other things you both did that made this relationship so special. Telling each other’s deepest fears and secrets, dreams and nightmares, the level of trust was off the charts. Above all, he was your best friend.

For the life of you, you couldn’t even remember why you went your separate ways. Carrying only happy memories and extremely positive fondness for Spike, it was only best to remember the good.

“What is it?” You asked, blushing.

He shook his head. “God, you’re still so gorgeous.”

Nodding slowly, you patted his chest. “Don’t flatter me.”

Spike felt the shockwaves of your touch revinate throughout his chest, warming his cold heart immediately. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“I thought you would never ask.”

-

Spike sipped on his drink slowly as you told him about the last few years of your life. From near death experiences to the worst hardships you ever had to face, it certainly kept him interested. As you told your story, you could not help but notice how intently Spike was listening. Really paying attention and communicating with past lovers was a difficult task to keep up with on both ends, but with him was different.

Remembering the times when he would stay over at your ship, eating take-out and watching crummy television on your holo computer. Doing all of that by yourself is great, but its somehow feels better when someone is doing it with you as well.

“How about you?” You asked, facing Spike.

Setting his drink down, he smirked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. Anytime he gave you that look, it sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Jesus fuck, this man still did things to you that were deliciously sinful.

“Give a guess.” He said.

Smiling, you leaned back into your chair. “Still on the Bebop?”

“You guessed correctly. Have been since we split.” He replied.

“That was such a long time ago. I thought that by now you would have settled down and gave up this dangerous life we live.” You admitted. “Not with a wife and kids, but to wind down for some peace and quiet.”

“I don’t think I know any other life than this. I've played this game for so long I don’t think I know how to quit.” Spike shrugged.

He was right. When you both were together, you came to the conclusion rather quickly that Spike would never settle, even for himself. The same went for you. You loved to travel, explore new places and meet new people, but the thought was always in the back of your mind. Staying in one place, with your other half, in happiness for the remainder of your lives.

“Hmm.” You hummed. “I do have one question though.”

“And that is?”

“That girl that you were with, you like her?” You teased, taking a sip from your drink.

A scowl splayed across Spike’s face. “Faye? Please.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Evening turned to night, an hour turned into multiple. Not once was someone not talking. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a conversation so invigorating, or a conversation that lasted this long. It was like you both had never broken up. By now, you and Spike were scooted up side by side, feeling the warmth of each other’s bodies. Your head laid on his shoulder, and his on your head. The one question that you both had been dreading this whole time was on the tip of your tongue, now spilling out to either break or bond this tender moment.

“What happened to us?”

Silence.

It suddenly grew very tense between you both. Thinking the distance was getting wider, your heart began to drop. That was until finally, after his moment of clarity, Spike held out his hand, motioning for you to take it. Interlocking your fingers through his, you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Right person, wrong time.” Spike mumbled against your hair as he pecked a kiss on your head.

“I loved you so much.” You whispered softly into Spike’s ear.

“I still do.” He admitted, his finger lifting your chin to meet his gaze. As your eyes met, you were brought back to the night of your first date, your first kiss, the first time you both made love. That same face you saw each time was still here, the fire that was smothered in the past was now refueling back, bigger than ever before. His lips burned into yours, reminding you what you missed and needed. Your tongue slipped in his mouth against his own. He lost himself in you completely.

The sudden realization that you were in public snapped you back to reality. Pulling away, you reached for your drink. “Somehow you’re a better kisser than you were the last time I saw you.”

“It’s like when you eat something you haven’t had in a long time. You forget what it tastes like, and it's a whole new dish, just for you to try over and over again.” Spike chuckled, appreciating your soft shove.

Last call was announced in the bar, signaling that your time in heaven was almost up. You feared the parting of your ways, holding on tighter to Spike’s hand. You swallowed the last of your drink as you and Spike watched the patrons slowly exit the bar, with the last of you in tow.

“C’mon, it's time to go home.”he said, holding his hand out for you to scoot out of the booth.

You walked side by side out of the bar and into the street, making sure to take leisurely steps for more time with each other. You could feel that he was trying to do the same, physical touch becoming more common on you. As you reached the end of the block where you had both ran into each other, Spike’s arm snaked around your waist, making you face him.

“I have a suggestion.” Spike purred in your ear.

“What’s that?” You inquired, intrigued and excited by his new proposition.

“How about you come back to my ship and I can show you what else I’m better at?”

[fruitcoops]

I was wondering if I could request something? Maybe Sirius' first night at the Dumais' place and Dumo can straight away tell that somethings wrong. Sirius makes polite conversation and it all looks so painful until he retires for the night and Dumo passes by his room and he hears Sirius crying maybe? Because of what his mother said, and maybe because he has trouble adjusting to new situations? Just an idea that popped into my head :) Only if you want to write it <3 Thank you

Yes, I can! I love writing Dumo, but for some reason I don't do it that often--his and Sirius' dynamic is just so wholesome and wonderful. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for implied child abuse and broken glass (no injury)

The first thing Pascal Dumais noticed about Sirius Black was how quiet he was. At only eighteen years old, Sirius was taller than most of the other Lions, with broad shoulders and gangly limbs. Yet he moved almost silently, padding along the wood floors in his socks and speaking only when spoken to. It was…honestly, a bit unsettling.

Dumo had expected a rambunctious teenage boy, still high on the thrill of being drafted to the NHL—instead, he found himself the guardian-slash-landlord of a ghost. Sirius unloaded his meager belongings with little fuss and accepted no help, his pale eyes never lingering on either of them for too long.

Celeste poked her head into the living room in the early afternoon when they returned from the grocery store; Sirius was sitting ramrod straight in the smallest chair they had with a thick book in his hands. She knocked gently on the doorframe, and he jumped. “Sirius, would you like some lunch?”

“I don’t want to be any trouble,” he said in that unusually soft voice.

“It’s no trouble,” she assured him.

“I can make myself a sandwich if you have other things to do. Really, I’m alright.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

Sirius blinked, as if he hadn’t expected her to ask, then glanced at the clock on the wall. “I had breakfast at seven and a granola bar on the plane.”

“Sirius, it’s almost two.”

“Is it?”

“Come with me for a moment, oui?” She ushered him into the kitchen; Dumo wasn’t sure he would ever get used to seeing someone so physically imposing walk so small.

“Papa?” Someone tugged on the hem of his shirt and he snapped out of his daze, leaning down to lift Adele into his arms with a smile.

“Bonjour, mon chou! Did you have fun outside?” She nodded, wiggling a little in her excitement, and put her hands on either side of his face. Dumo’s stomach sank. “Why are your hands wet?”

“I washed them!”

“Why?”

“Because we played with chalk!”

Both the boys were at day camp, and Katie was down for her afternoon nap. Dumo wracked his brain. “Who were you playing with?”

“Sirius!” she giggled, then held the front of her shirt out. Wasn’t she wearing a different one this morning?“An’ he said chalk stains, so he lifted me up so I could wash my hands and helped me get my new shirt on when it got stuck and let me braid his hair! Can we keep him? Please, Papa, I wanna keep him forever!”

Dumo kissed her forehead as a wave of emotion tickled the back of his throat. Less than six hours in their home, and Sirius was already connecting with his children. “Oui, we can. Did you say thank you?”

Adele bit her lower lip. “I don’t remember.”

“Sirius?” Dumo called. The clanking in the kitchen stopped. “Can you come here for a moment?”

There was a beat of silence before he appeared in the doorway, looking paler than before as he walked over to them. This boy needs to eat more, the parental part of Dumo’s brain thought instantly. Slate-grey eyes flickered between them. “She—she had chalk on her shirt. I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

“It’s alright. What do you say?” Dumo asked, turning to Adele.

She turned a beaming smile on Sirius. “Thank you!”

His whole face softened in the blink of an eye and he smiled back, giving her a light fist bump. “Pas de problem, petit papillon.”

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

Sirius opened up a bit over lunch; Adele perched herself right in his lap with her peanut butter sandwich to his clear astonishment, but his smiles came easier after that and Dumo treasured each one. He was already grateful that Sirius did not seem like the type of asshole player that Dumo remembered from his high school years.

Marc and Louis returned to the house just as they finished, and though Sirius offered to help wash the dishes—the boy was a blessing, really—they shooed him off to play with the kids for a while. It would do them all some good to get out in the sun.

“Quiet, isn’t he?” Celeste remarked as they stood side-by-side at the sink. Her tone was casual, but Dumo saw the worry in her eyes.

He hummed in agreement. “He’s probably just nervous, mon amour. They can take a while to warm up.”

“Pascal, I don’t think—”

The sound of shattering glass echoed from the other room. The house held its breath. “Is everyone alright?” Dumo called, drying his hands on the nearest towel as his pulse picked up. “What happened?”

Hushed whispers floated out, followed by the pitter-patter of little feet. He hurried down the hall with Celeste hot on his heels. “I’m so sorry,” Sirius said as they entered the room. He was kneeling on the wood floor, gathering fragments of a small water glass in one palm. “It was my fault. I hit it with my elbow.”

Celeste frowned. “Boys? Adele? I know you were here.”

Dumo didn’t miss Sirius’ hard swallow, nor the sudden nervousness—no, that was fear—on his face as the three kids crept out from around the corner, looking guiltier than anything. Adele stepped forward, but Sirius stood in a smooth, instinctive motion, keeping her behind him. “It was my fault,” he repeated. Dumo’s heart sank.

“Adele, is that true?”

She looked up toward Sirius, who kept his broad hand ever so slightly in front of her shoulder. Celeste raised an eyebrow. “Adele Marie, tell the truth.”

“No,” she said.

“Come here, please.” Dumo watched Sirius’ breaths go shallow as Celeste beckoned to Adele, but confusion took its place when she crouched to her level. “Thank you. What Sirius did was very nice, but we don’t let other people take the fall for our mistakes in this house, Adele. We accept responsibility. Who broke the cup?”

“I was chasing Marc and we both bumped into the table,” Adele confessed, toying with the hem of her butterfly-patterned shirt. “It was an accident, I promise.”

“Did anyone get hit by the glass?” Dumo asked. All three shook their heads. “Sirius?”

He cleared his throat. “No, Mr. Dumais.”

“Marc, Adele, I want you to find the broom and dustpan so your mother and I can clean this up. Thank you for being honest. Sirius, there’s a trash can in the kitchen, but be careful of the sharp edges. And please, call me Pascal or Dumo.”

But he didn’t stop thinking about the visible alarm on Sirius’ face when Celeste brought Adele forward all afternoon. Something was not right.

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

If it wasn’t for the baby, Dumo would not have heard it.

Katie woke around midnight with a quiet whine, which devolved into whimpering, and finally into full-out sobbing for over half an hour. He carried her downstairs so she wouldn’t wake the others and gently rocked her, humming lullabies under his breath until his throat was dry and her tears abated. “There’s my good girl,” he murmured, drying her pudgy cheeks with his sleeve.

The last bits of sleep faded away as he set her down in her crib again, and he sighed. The season didn’t start for more than a month, but he had been looking forward to a few consecutive nights of solid rest before then.

May as well check on the others, he thought, wandering down the hallway in his thickest socks and bathrobe to stave off the nighttime chill. Marc and Louis were each out cold; he took the open book splayed across Marc’s bed and set it on his dresser, turning the lamp off as he left. Adele was curled into a tight ball around no less than four of her precious stuffed animals and he tucked the blankets back over her shoulder.

Dumo’s feet carried him down the stairs before his brain fully caught up, and he paused—Sirius had been in their house for a single day, and already he had the urge to look out for him. The thought should have made him feel silly, but instead he felt…peaceful. He felt right. There was a lost and near-silent boy in his home, who protected his kids within hours of knowing them. Of course Dumo was going to make sure he was alright.

Summer wind rushed past the wide windows as he headed toward the basement. It was warmer there, and he took a moment to mentally pat himself on the back for remodeling two years prior. Hopefully, Sirius would be comfortable.

A soft sound broke through his thoughts. Dumo stopped on the last step.

There was a harsh breath, then a sniffle, as if the person inside was trying and failing to keep their tears in past the point of no return. He heard a few shaky, weak inhales, then a choked noise that cut off abruptly with a gulp.

Dumo closed his eyes to hold back tears of his own and knocked lightly on the bedroom door.

Everything went silent with a rustle.

“Sirius?” he whispered, raising his voice just enough to be heard through the door. “Are you awake?”

There was no answer.

“Can I come in?” he ventured.

An unsteady voice answered. “Ouais.”

The door creaked a little as he opened it and stepped into the dark room. Sirius was nothing more than a clump of shadows on the far side of the bed, squished tight against the wall with all his blankets wrapped around him. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Je vais bien.”

“Can I sit?” Dumo fully expected Sirius to tell him ‘no’, to make an excuse, to pull some arrogant teenager nonsense.

Instead, he tucked his legs up and made room near the foot of the bed with another sniffle. “Did I wake you?”

“Non. Katie was crying, and I thought I’d check on everyone.” He settled down and scooted until his back was against the wall as well—Sirius was still hiding in a cocoon of his duvet, but his hand came up to wipe his face. “Do you want to talk?”

“About what?”

“You seem upset. I know the homesickness is hard for the first few days, but—”

“No.” The vehemence of Sirius’ answer shocked him into silence. “No. I’m not homesick. I just—so much has happened, and I—it’s—this is everything I wanted, right here, and—”

He broke off with a wounded noise that broke Dumo’s poor heart right down the middle. He moved closer until their shoulders touched; to his surprise, Sirius leaned on him and shivered. “How can I help you?” Dumo asked quietly.

“Your family…” Sirius shook his head and drew the covers tighter. “You have a beautiful family. You should be proud of them.”

“I am, every day.”

“Your kids love you so much.” It was barely more than a whisper.

Dumo sighed through his nose. “I know.”

“No, you don’t, they—you’re their hero. And not because of hockey.”

That was Dumo’s dream, laid out right in front of him. If someone he hardly knew could see that, then it must be true. The impact was greater than he ever could have imagined; his lungs felt tight. “Thank you. Is it alright if I ask you something?”

Sirius stiffened slightly.

“You’re not in trouble, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I’m just…worried.”

He felt Sirius shift. “This is about the glass.” It wasn’t a question.

“Oui.” Dumo searched for the words and scrounged up any sliver of tact he could find. “Sirius, do you—what happens when you break a glass at your house?”

Sirius’ breath rushed from his lungs in a near-silent sob. Dumo gathered him close in his arms and held him, letting tears dampen his shoulder as he murmured soft reassurances in French. “I’m sorry,” Sirius croaked, though he did not move away. “I’m sorry for—for intruding, and for ruining your shirt—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Dumo gave him a light squeeze of comfort and felt him go a bit boneless. “And you are not intruding. We love having you here with us.”

“Really?”

He sounded so unsure. So young. Dumo wished he could take away whatever horrible things had been said to ever make someone so kind feel so small. “Yes. Adele, especially.”

“She’s so…colorful.” Fondness dripped from every word.

“She is,” Dumo agreed. “She came running up to me, and went ‘papa, papa, can we keep him?’”

Sirius laughed a little at his imitation and straightened up, drying his eyes on his hoodie sleeve. They sat quietly for a while until the shaking stopped and his death grip on the comforter loosened. “Thank you, Mr. Dumais.”

“Call me Pascal, or Dumo if you like. ‘Mr. Dumais’ makes me sound like a grandfather.” They laughed together, then fell silent once more. “And you’re welcome. Any time you need help, you can come to me. I might not be your father, but—”

“You’re better,” Sirius interrupted, wiping his nose. His shadow turned to face Dumo in the dark, and though he couldn’t see his face, he could picture the earnest expression. “In every way. Please don’t tell anyone about this, though.”

“It never even crossed my mind,” Dumo answered honestly. “I should let you sleep now. We have some busy weeks ahead of us, eh?”

“Bonne nuit, M—Dumo.” The name carried new weight and he let it sink in as Sirius laid back down and kicked his blankets back into place. Something told him this was the beginning of a very interesting story.

“Bonne nuit, Sirius. Welcome to our home.”

[starshipsofstarlord]

Could I request a Jaskier x female reader where the reader is a princess who during daylight, is condemned to be a bear, after being cursed by an evil sorcerer At night she become a human again. Which the curse can only be broken by a man (who would be Jaskier) who pledges his heart solely to the reader (something like true love’s kiss). Please and thank you!!!

Bruin

jaskier x reader

masterlist

Warnings; mentions of witcher killing, mentions of death and angst, curses, nudity, some fluff, implied smut

“G-Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice shivered, as he saw a great mountain of brunette fur, wading through the long grass, heavy breathing exhibiting from its wet snout. “There’s a bear!”

“If you’re that scared, try to speak quieter.” The Witcher’s speech remained monotone, as he continued walking, leaving the bard to catch up with his hardy footsteps. “We need to leave before nightfall, that is when the true monster is unleashed from the bruin vessel.”

“You kill monsters, we’ll be fine.” The bard waved off, though he was terrified, and Geralt was all but convinced with his dismissal. “We will, won’t we Geralt?”

“It’s bad luck to remain out here at night, it’s an old wives tale, however, no one survives the night out here. Not after the disappearance of the princess of Arafell.” Jaskier remembered that tale, he had even seen the princess at a banquet once when they were both young in age.

Neither of them had the opportunity to converse with one another that evening, it was the night she had ran away. and he certainly had regretted never asking her dance. Before that though, they had often strode through the gardens hand in hand, conversing on the beauty of the petals that veiled around the stems, and she, unlike most people, listened to his descriptive forms of poetry. Back then, he had been shy, and not to mention, she was of sought after royal blood. That evening was the last that anyone from the kingdom had ever been seen, after the slumber of eternity wept over their souls. One thing he severely remembered though, was that she loved dandelions.

The princess had ran away, leaving the king and queen in search of someone that could find her, and thus they hired a private sorcerer to complete their wishes. But instead of seeking out the lost girl, the old man took the gold and the lives of old, wallowing the land in distress that clambered into a delving of madness.

A shout bellowed from the bear, and Jaskier found him to “How long will it be til we reach the borders?”

“The bad luck will loom over us Jaskier, we will not make it out of here in the span of the next countless hours. There will be a moon in the sky, but perhaps we’ll be able to seek out cover in the old guard’s tower.”

“Where are we Geralt?” The brown haired poet feared to be met with the answer “What makes you think that we’ll survive the night?!”

“This is what remains of Arafell.” Stated the white haired hunter, as he continued to plod through the thick foliage beneath his dark boots. He stepped on the dull green life form, not encouraged to pursue any further into the depths as he heard the destination that they were travelling through.

“Arafell, great.” Huffed the irritating bard, clutching his lute as he spoke the haunting name. “There’s no need to be afraid, when you’re in the land of torn bodies, because the witcher is by your side. He’ll slash and dice, protect the mice, from the darkness that falls from above. The people are dead, I am filled with dread, in the land of Ar-afellll.”

“Stop singing.” Whenever there was any fault present in their adventures together, Jaskier had a tendency, wallowing similar like a pie without filling to sing. It shrouded Geralt with epitomised frustration, his betrothed follower sure knew how to pull his strings, it was as though he were a moral lute, a practice run of socialisation for the noble’s son.

“Sorry.” Apologised the traveller, with a shrug encompassed by a spark of coldness affecting his posture. There was a breeze, filled with the pinching of icicles in the air, and it clawed through his clothes, clashing with the meat blanketed warmth of his bones. “It’s just- we’re in bloody Arafell, or what remains of it, and you are so calm. Have you maybe perhaps forgotten what happened here?!”

“No. I was here when it queen Ara and her kingdom fell. And that bear has lurked every inch of these demolished castle lands searching for scraps, and if you cannot tell, it is almost night fall, and she has come up sufficiently short of anything, for all these decades.”

The listener frowned, bears did not live so long. It was a curious prospect, it remained loyal to these grounds, although it was empty. There had to be a reason why, a pattern that supposed why it, or she as Geralt had divulged, remained to lurk in the midst of the overgrown forestry. And then another thought (yes, Jaskier had the ability to do that despite what his protective travel mate may have wondered), hit him, like a bolt of lightning.

“Um, Geralt, where is the bear?” He gulped, hearing the rustling of the thick foliage metres behind them. The moon scourged the sky with its global presence, inducing another shot of ambient fear through Jaskier’s veins. “It was-“

“Shut up a moment.” It was almost impossible half the time to silence Jaskier, but this time, he actually obliged the command. Geralt drew his sword, the one that glistened a predominate silver and was made from the compound, clutching the handle in his vice and skilled grip, as his feet took him closer to the imposter that was imbedded within the weeds.

“Oh.” Jaskier covered his eyes, he couldn’t look as Geralt pointed the weapon at the beasts throat; a whimper escaped it as Geralt took a step back, alerting his companion. “Kill it Geralt, it’s a bear, it’s going to kill us.”

“It was a bear.” Geralt elaborated as he watched the beast transform and lose its course coat of brown fur, turning into a less monstrous beast. It was only a girl, with unruly and wild hair that was matted in all directions, her face contorted into fear. “Of whom are you, my lady?”

“A witcher.” It trailed from her lips as a whisper, her tone alerting Jaskier that it indeed was not a bear, rather it was a woman, laid on the forest ground, in nothing but her own layers of skin. His eyes widened for a moment, until he earned an elbow in the rib from his friend for his long and convicted ogling. “I have only heard legends but...

“You speak english?” Jaskier wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, hinting at his subsequent misunderstanding of the situation. “but you were a bear?!” This was all growing more confusion with each passing second, there were too many angles of the world.

“I’m cursed.” It was an easy consequence to admit, for the lady of the worlds already lived through them. “Each day, I am forced to pad about in the brute body of a bruin, a sorcerer brought by darkness himself to this dimension damned me to this abomination, his name was-“

“Lament.�� From hearing that name, the woman on the ground was taken aback as the women, trying to prevail some decency, attempted to cover her breasts with her arms, as she crossed her legs over one another. “Your parents sent me to find you, lady. I came up empty handed in my search for you, there was no trail that I managed to find, nothing that would point in your direction. And that night, as I returned with short of nothing of any news of your whereabouts, Lament was there.”

“He killed them all, didn’t he. My family?” The answer didn’t require any verification from Geralt, the solemn, yet usual expression on the Witcher’s face was all the confirmation that she needed. “Of course he did, he’s a poisonous shadow, when he finds something he wants, he takes away its home, so that it can’t run back to the hearth whence it came from. I regret every running away from home...”

“Wait a moment.” This was all beginning to add up in some mind boggling way. Jaskier flitted his gaze aside for a moment as Geralt pulled a fine blanket from his luggage, knowingly seeing the movement out of the corner of his curious eye that she was pulling the material that conducted warmth over her shoulders, and across her sachet of flaunted skin.

"Shut up Jaskier." Instantaneously stated the bard, whom had returned his cerulean gaze back upon the y/h/c woman, depositing a composition of interest to her form.

"You're the princess of Arafell, aren't you. Y/n, it's you, isn't it?" Y/n's expression was one of shock; how did this man know of her identity? She understood how the witcher did, though with considering he was condemned with the duty of finding her. The brunette man was slightly familiar, and so he revealed why that was. “it’s Julian.” Jaskier held his hand to his chest, almost hurt that you didn’t recognise him, but it had been years, so many, none of which had been kind to you. “My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz.”

“Dandelion!” The reprised title spun from y/n's tongue, remembering the nickname that she had given the now gentleman all those years ago, when he was nothing more than a persisting boy that made her flash an unashamed laughter in the midst of poised quality showrooms of noble gatherings. "I remember you." She dwelled on the fact, if she weren't clothed in only a shrill and frayed blanket that was pebbled with small dots of soil, from where it had been laid on the ground, y/n surely would have jumped up and spun her arms around his 'sexy goose' neck.

"You've got to be kidding me, it is just my luck that the pair of you know each other." Geralt crossed his arms, shaking his sleek silver head, being deprived of attention as he spoke. "Is there any way to get yourself out to get you out of this prospected curse of turning into a bear, y/n?"

"To be betrothed to a man, confirmed with a kiss resonating true love, though, nobody with any sense would put themselves in that position for me, there is no wealth to my name anymore, nor is there relevance with my heritage, for there is nothing that remains, as you have confirmed for me. This man must certainly be one of a kind, for he has to pledge his loyalty solely to me, forbidding himself from ever being with another woman again."

The mention of a lack of sense reminded Geralt of one man in particular, and he was stood right beside him. But it couldn't have been Jaskier, of all people, and- Geralt found himself overcome with dread as the bard stepped forward, crunching his shoed feet into the withered grass, closer to the rediscovered princess.

"I have waited my whole life to see you again." Oh god, here he went, Geralt thought. "When we were younger, I was infatuated with you, and here we are, united again in a union. If my betrothal means nothing then you will remain in this shrine of gloom, but to me, it would mean everything to me."

"Y/N come on, have some sense, it-" There was lack of reason for Geralt to continue speaking, as y/n sprung up, the blanket flowing down from her shoulders, baring her body cold to the crisp air, as her hands clasped both sides of Jaskier's face, and pressed her lips to his.

The witcher cringed, turning away as the pair practically ate the other's face, like starved animals that had been distanced for many years, which in their case was true. "Do you know if the curse is broken, is there any indicator if so?"

A hum fell from y/n's mouth as Jaskier's hand traced the curve of her spine, causing Geralt to scoff. That was the only response he earned, and to a high stake, it disgusted him. "I think I'm just gonna let you two have some time to yourselves, I guess we will see in the morning if you're being mawled by a bear you flippant."

And thus he walked away, leaving the two to pursue their primitive instincts, under the blessed moon, and on the routed curfew on the dark and dead land of Arafell.

[triptuckers]

The Necklace - Captain Rex

Request: no Pairing: Captain Rex x jedi!reader Summary: Five times you and Rex have given each other your necklace, and the one time you wear it for the last time Warnings: major character death!!, angst, mentions of serious injuries, burning, blood, bruises Word count: 3.2K A/N: I always wonder why do I do this to myself .. anyway, my brain made me write this and put it out there. I deeply apologise for this feel free to send me ur therapy bills TAG LIST (all star wars fics): @parker-natasha​ @romanoffstarkovs​ @just-deka​

One.

It’s quiet in the Temple. You have to admit it’s rarely crowded in the halls. The Temple is quite a large building, and not nearly enough Jedi to fill it. And even if there were, at least half would be off fighting the war.

You’re grateful for the time you get to spend at the Temple. The long hallways always calm you down. No matter how long you had been away, it always felt good to come home to the Temple where you’d grown up.

It’s the place where you learned the ways of the force, where you’d spent hours reading everything you could find on the Jedi and their ways. You’d meditated in the gardens countless of times, and you’d found your family.

But most importantly, you met Rex.

He knew just as well as everyone else attachment was against the Jedi code. Still, you were pulled to one another by some sort of feeling you couldn’t explain. It made you want to spend every moment you got with him.

As your relationship blossomed, you knew you had to talk about the restrictions. You didn’t like it, but there were just some rules you had to follow, for both yours and Rex’ sake.

It didn’t stop you from occasionally sending a flirtatious wink his way, if only to watch his cheeks flush as he tried to remain focused on his tasks.

You were desperate for some kind of affection outside the safe walls of your quarters. When you were on a planet near the Outer Rim, and you waited as they refuelled your ship, you took the opportunity to check out the local market.

You found a beautiful, handcrafted silver necklace, and you just couldn’t leave it behind. When you got back to Coruscant, you showed the necklace to Rex, and you noticed how much he loved it.

When you wanted to give the necklace to him, he declined, saying it looked too good on you, that he couldn’t take it from you. So, you made a promise. The one wearing the necklace would give it to the one who wasn’t wearing it whenever they saw them, with the promise they’d be there to wear it again next time you’d meet.

Your walk around the Temple takes you through the silent halls. You don’t really notice where you’re going, your mind wandering off to other places. You turn a corner and see a door opening in the distance.

A few Jedi, Anakin, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, Mace and Yoda exit the room, followed by Rex and Cody. You smile at them and they all greet you as they go their separate ways.

Rex is deep in conversation with Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Cody, but briefly stops when you pass him. He takes the necklace off and gives it to you with a smile. You return the smile as you put it on, and Rex continues his conversation with the others while you continue your walk, the necklace bouncing against your chest with every step you take.

Two.

You’ve done it a thousand times before, but landing near a battle is still something that could get your anxiety up. That creeping fear that a well aimed blaster shot could take out your engines and send you to the ground a lot faster than you intended, would never ease.

You hold on tight as the ship starts its landing.

The 501st and the 212th were already on the scene, fighting for their lives. Everyone had thought that they would manage, but that was before the Separatists sent in reinforcements. Because you and your men were closest, you received an urgent comm from Anakin and didn’t hesitate before gathering all of your men and heading towards their position.

Once you’ve landed and everyone has left the ship, you start giving out orders. Even though you’re not near the heat of the battle, you have to yell to be heard over the shouts and blaster shots from others.

You send your men to the frontlines while you take your second in command to look for the other generals and commanders.

As you’re running through the chaos, you’re contacting Anakin. Luckily, he responds almost immediately.

‘We saw your ship!’ he says loudly. ‘We’re on the right side, near the trees!’

‘Copy!’ you shout in your comm and you wave your second din command over, making for the tree line in the distance. You glance at the troopers as you’re running, trying to find Rex. He might be next to Anakin and Ahsoka, waiting for you to arrive. But you know Rex, and it’s also very possible he’s in the front lines.

It takes shorter than you expected to cross the battlefield. When you make it to the trees, you quickly spot your fellow Jedi, and Rex and Cody along with them.   Ahsoka is the first to notice you, and she waves at you as you’re running toward them.

You come to a halt in front of them, panting.

‘Thanks for coming so quickly.’ says Obi-Wan.

‘Yeah.’ you manage to say in between breaths. ‘What’s our status?’ you ask as you take off your necklace and blindly hand it to Rex, who is standing next to you.

‘We’re suffering a lot of casualties.’ says Ahsoka, not taking notice in you giving Rex the necklace.

‘You and your men are much needed.’ says Rex, and you turn to look at him. ‘We’re severely outnumbered.’ he says as he puts on the necklace.

‘We have a plan, though.’ says Anakin, and he starts explaining it.

Three.

It takes you a while to figure out what caused you to suddenly wake. You didn’t have any plans or meetings you had to attend to today, and you had planned on a relaxed morning of just staying in bed.

Your legs are tangled with Rex’, and one of his arms is swung across your stomach. Mornings like these are rare, and you wish you could stay like this forever.

No war, no pain or suffering, no Separatist this or Jedi business that. Just you and Rex, holding each other.

Occasionally, you hear soft snores coming from his side of the bed. You raise your hand to softly run it over his back. It’s only then, that you realise it isn’t his snores that woke you.

You comm is beeping furiously on the bedside table.

For one of the first times, you’re seriously considering just ignoring it. You didn’t have any plans today, you even declined Ahsoka’s offer of a training session, stating you needed your rest now that you didn’t have any formalities to attend. And with rest you meant staying in bed with Rex.

But what if it’s important? Says an annoying little voice in the back of your head.

You groan softly, reaching out to try and get a hold of your comm. You can’t reach it, but you also don’t dare to shift, scared of waking Rex. So instead, you use the Force and let your comm device land in the palm of your hand.

‘Yea?’ you say. It’s Anakin who answers.

‘Hey, Y/N, do you think you’ve got time to go over some maps with me? I’m assigned to traveling with Senator Amidala, she needs to go settle another trade incident. It doesn’t seem like a big deal, but these maps sure do.’ he says.

‘Can’t Padmé go over those maps with you if she’s the going to the planet in the first place?’ you ask, not wanting to leave your comfortable and warm bed.

‘She’s on Naboo. I’m supposed to pick her up on the way there.’ answers Anakin.

‘Okay, fine. I’ll come see you at your quarters in a few minutes.’ you say.

‘Thanks!’ says Anakin.

You sigh and throw the comm device on the bed. You look to your side and see Rex is still asleep. It makes you chuckle. You could probably drop a bomb on the building, and the sound just wouldn’t wake him up.

You slowly untangle your legs from his and lift his arm so you can get up. You silently get dressed before hovering over his body.

Kisses are pressed to his cheeks, nose and forehead. Rex only shifts a bit, but doesn’t wake up. You take the necklace off and carefully place it around his neck. With one last kiss, you leave your quarters and head for Anakin’s.

Four.

You exhale sharply when you land on your back.

‘And that-’ says Ahsoka’s voice above you. ‘Is how you take someone out when you don’t have your lightsaber on you.’

A small round of applause comes from the younglings you’re teaching. Originally, they were Ahsoka’s class but she asked you to join her in some examples, and you agreed. Though she hadn’t told you just how many times she was going to throw you on the ground.

‘Impressive.’ you say as you take a hold of Ahsoka’s extended hand and allow her to pull you to your feet.

‘All right kids.’ you say to the small group of younglings in front of you. ‘You’ve seen how it works now. Pair up with someone else and go try it out yourselves.’

They all excitedly pair up and get to work. You smile as you watch them struggle, thinking back to your own training sessions as a youngling.

‘I’m pretty sure we weren’t that small when we were younglings.’ you say to Ahsoka. ‘You were.’ she says, making you raise your eyebrows at her. ‘I’m taller than you.’ you protest, making her laugh out loud.

You watch the younglings for a while, correcting them every now and then. They’re very good for kids their age, and you can tell they’re fast learnings. You’re wondering if one of them might become your padawan, and about all the things you could teach them.

Just as Ahsoka tells everyone to take a break while she explains the next useful movement, the door to the training hall opens.

The clones didn’t train much in the Temple’s halls, but they did on the occasion theirs was too crowded. Or if they had been near the Temple and didn’t feel like traveling far.

A couple of the 501st have entered the room, and you scan their faces for Rex. He’s the last one to enter and you smile at him as he makes his way toward you. When he’s almost reached you, he takes off the necklace.

Just as he hands it to you, one of the younglings gasps loudly.

‘You’re Captain Rex of the 501st!’ he says.

Rex looks at him and nods. ‘That’s right kid. Keep up your training and I might see you out on the front some day.’ he says and the younglings look up at him in awe.

You chuckle at their reaction and shoot Rex a wink. He smiles at you, waves at Ahsoka, and then returns to his brothers to start their training session.

Five.

You don’t get a lot of free time nowadays. So when you do, you use it well. You’re currently in the gardens, meditating.

When you were younger, you didn’t like meditating very much. You would much rather be working on your lightsaber skills, than sitting in one spot of hours.

But as you got older, you realised the importance of connecting with the Force, and you started to appreciate alone time more.

Luckily, the gardens weren’t very crowded when you arrived. You took place in your favourite spot, closed your eyes and slowed your breathing.

After a while, you noticed other people’s presences in the force fading away one by one. Until you could feel no one else’s presence, and it was just you.

You’re unaware how much time has passed, when you sense a familiar presence coming closer.

You smile, but keep your legs crossed and your eyes closed. You hear footsteps coming closer, until they come to a stop right next to you.

There must be no one else watching, because you feel how Rex presses a kiss to your cheek. You then feel something cold be placed carefully around your neck. You smile again and after another kiss to your cheek, Rex leaves again, and you continue your meditation.

Six.

This war had taken too much from too many people. Everyone was tired of it, and everyone just wanted it to end. You were tired, too. You’d seen too many of your friends die, and too many innocent people you couldn’t save.

You weren’t a soldier. You’re a peacekeeper. But you can’t remember the last time you actually referred to yourself as one, let alone feel like it.

Still, the war raged on, like a hot fire turning everything in its path into ashes, leaving nothing but grief and sorrow behind. The war was unforgiving, merciless, swallowing everyone and everything in its path.

You couldn't stand by and watch anymore. Especially when all the fighting got too close for your taste.

You'd been sent to a planet you visited a lot when you were a child. It was a peaceful, neutral planet. Until the Separatists came to claim it. The planet's original inhabitants didn't have the proper training or recourses to fight, so the Republic sent you and your men there.

When you got to the planet it was nothing but chaos. The Separatists had wanted to take control of the planet for its strategic location. It seems they would do anything to get their hands on it.

Including wiping out an entire race of people.

You couldn't let that happen. You had been right there to see so many people get injured or killed because of the Separatists. You wouldn't stand by and watch yet another peaceful planet be taken.

The Separatists were using a new kind of droid, one that could follow orders all at once because of one single command center. You'd sent your men to keep fighting on the front lines, and to protect the people.

You would disarm the command center, so their commands couldn't get to the droids on the battlefield.

But you weren't an expert on shutting down such a massive command center on your own. While thinking back to all the happy memories you made in the past when you visited this planet, the only option you could think of was to blow up the entire command center.

You didn't have any explosives on you, so you decided to fling both of your lightsabers into the power generator. At the time, you didn't even know if it would work. Turns out it did. Maybe it worked a little too well.

The blast was enormous. You successfully blew up the entire command center, and your men could pick the droids off like target practice.

But when your second in command didn't hear back from you, he sent a few men to go and look for you.

They found you near the center of the blast, severely injured and barely alive.

They rush you back to the ship and on the way back to Coruscant, while the medical droids aboard the ship do the best they can. But they're losing you, and it's unwise to move you at this point, so they keep you aboard the ship.

Having heard of your state, both Anakin and Ahsoka rushed to the ship you're on in the hangar.

They watch anxiously as the medial droids fuss over you. Ahsoka can see your body is as good as lost, but she can still sense your presence in the Force. It's all she can hold on to.

Meanwhile, Anakin is trying to get a hold of Rex. He'd been suspecting something was going on between you and his captain. He figured if anyone needed to be there, it's Rex.

'Yes?' says Rex when he finally answers his comm.

'Rex, you need to get here.' says Anakin, voice slightly breaking as he talks. He was so terrified to lose you.

'Everything alright, sir?' says Rex.

'It's Y/N.' says Anakin.

Rex is quiet for a while.

'Rex?' says Anakin.

'Where is she?' asks Rex, and they can all hear how he tries to keep his voice steady.

'On the ship in the hangar. They just arrived but they can't move her.' says Anakin.

'I'm on my way.' says Rex.

Anakin knew for a fact Rex was nowhere near the hangar, but he arrives there in mere minutes. He must have ran all the way here.

Ahsoka stops Rex before he can enter the room you're in. Rex is breathing heavily, pressing a hand to his side which is aching from the sprinting.

'Rex.' says Ahsoka softly. 'She's not-'

But Rex doesn't let her finish, he pushes her aside and enters the room.

He nearly breaks at the sight of you. Rex blindly reaches for something to steady him as he stumbles on his feet, and Anakin catches his arm.

Rex' eyes fill with tears as he looks at you.

This is not how he remembers you. This is not how you looked when you cheerfully waved him goodbye as your ship took off.

The robes you always wear are covered in dust and ashes. There's burn marks all over them. On some places, the fabric of the robes was completely gone, showing the burn wounds on your skin.

The side of your head is crusty with a mixture of dried blood and dirt. One side of your body is littered in bruises, from where you must have hit a wall.

'There was a blast.' mumbles Anakin. 'She blew up the generator and disarmed all of the droids. She saved an entire planet from the Separatists.'

Rex presses a hand to his mouth and mumbles something in Mando'a which Anakin doesn't understand.

He slowly approaches the bed, one hand reaching out to hold yours. His other hand is clutched around the necklace he wears.

This wasn't happening. You still had to win the war, get your own apartment for the two of you, tell war stories to new friends. This couldn't be the end of your story. This couldn't be his last memory of you.

Rex lets go of your hand to stroke your cheek.

Anakin and Ahsoka leave the room, giving Rex a moment of privacy.

'Wake up, mesh'la.' says Rex softly, voice breaking at almost every word he says. 'Wake up so I can give you the necklace. You promised you'd always be there to take it from me when we'd see each other.'

And you do wear the necklace one more time. Rex slid it around your neck, and buried it along with your body.

And every battle he fights in the future, he does in the name of his beloved General Y/L/N. There was no reason to keep it a secret any more. He'd dedicate every single fight to you. He owed you that much. He kept your memory alive.

Every night, his heart aches because of the absence of your shared necklace. The absence of your love, and your promise to always be there.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[weasleylangs]

lightweight - g.w

Pairing: George x Fem!Reader Summary: Y/N’s never been the best at holding her alcohol. Luckily, George is always there to help her. Warnings: Alcohol, a drunk confession, fluff, brief mentions of underage drinking, one line about throwing up. Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Short Georgie fic today! I have work so I didn’t want to commit to any of my super long ideas but I still want to keep writing! Also, I’m not promoting excessive drinking whatsoever. As always, constructive criticism is appreciated and requests are open!

This is also being posted while I’m asleep because I’m stuck on the other side of the world to the rest of you. Any asks will be replied too when I’m up!

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George stands in a corner of the Leaky Cauldron, firewhiskey in hand as he looks at the crowd. Their yearly reunion has been going on for a few hours now, and George has finally started to feel the alcohol buzzing around his head. Despite having already downed quite a few whiskeys, he’s barely been feeling it all night considering he’s always been a heavyweight, given his large stature.

The same can’t be said for the girl George’s eyes are trained on. Y/N Y/L/N. She’s currently dancing with Angelina Johnson, the rosiness in her cheeks evident from both the exertion from dancing for hours on end and the alcohol in her system. George has fond memories of Gryffindor parties, when Fred, Lee and himself would flirt their way into buying alcohol from Madam Rosmerta to sneak into parties that would eventually end with the girl he’s watching dancing her heart out.

“Babysitting already, mate?” Lee asks as he takes a swig of his beer and George chuckles, shaking his head. “No, not quite yet. I probably will be in, say…” He checks his watch and the time reads 1am, “... half an hour.” 

George developed a habit when they were sixteen, of looking after Y/N at parties. The girl never seemed to learn her own limits and more often than not, drank herself stupid at parties. Y/N was one of George’s best friends, and he’d never forgive himself if he ever let her get hurt at a party, so he happily settled for basking in the party atmosphere while keeping a close eye on Y/N. And then, in the morning he’d tease her while she threw up the contents of her stomach and she’d apologise profusely before they’d walk to breakfast together.

It’s been 10 years and they’re still dancing and drinking and George is still looking after her, but instead of walking her up to her dorm, George drags her back to his apartment above Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and tucks her into his bed while he takes the couch. Granted, Y/N’s has developed some better limits than when she was sixteen years old, but it’s a force of habit at this point, and besides, George rather looks forward to it nowadays and his night would feel incomplete without knowing Y/N is 100% safe and sound 100 meters away from him. 

Fred approaches them, and they aimlessly stand around and chat. Mostly about quidditch, very rarely about work. These days, the hot topic of conversation is about how Lee’s been splitting his time between London helping the twins out with the shop and Romania, where his dragon trainer girlfriend lives. Sometimes, a few people approach them and ask the question if they’re the ‘famous Ginny Weasley’s twin brothers’ which always causes them to laugh and their chests swell in pride for their little sister. 

It’s probably only twenty minutes later when he hears a squeal come from the dance floor as some muggle band’s song comes on. George thinks Y/N probably convinced Tom to let her hijack the music and he vaguely recognises the song as one she’s played before. He searches the dance floor for her, and when their eyes meet she winks at him and quickly spins around to dance with Angelina again.

“I can’t believe she’s not even your girlfriend and you practically babysit her, mate. We’re 26, when are you making a move?” Fred teases but George ignores him. He notices Y/N catch his eye again and when she goes to wave him over, he sees her wobble slightly and her eyes widen out of fear of losing her balance. 

Truthfully, George is too scared to admit his feelings for Y/N. While he knows their friendship entails more than what a normal one does, George has never been the best at reading signs when people are romantically interested in him so he well and truly does not know where he stands with Y/N. He never wants to make people feel uncomfortable, so he lives blissfully unaware until someone yells in his face they’re interested in him. 

“Piss off, Fred. Like you can talk about me not making a move. You’ve liked Angelina since what? Sixth year?” He pushes Fred slightly at the shoulders as he scowls and slowly makes his way over the tiny girl in his sights. 

“Hi Georgie,” she slurs as he finally makes his way over to her and she’s quick to slot herself into his side. George is well aware Y/N is both a sleepy and clumsy drunk the second she stops dancing, and as George checks the time on his watch again, it now reads 1:30am and it’s well past intoxicated Y/N’s bedtime. 

“Hi, love,” he can’t help but use the nickname for her, especially when her cheeks flush an even deeper shade of red when he uses it, “time to get you to bed?” 

She pretends to think for a second but George knows she’s all danced out when she sighs and tucks her head into his neck. He spots Lee and Fred, who are now imitating whips at him, and shakes his head as he waves goodbye. He makes sure to tell Angelina, Katie and Alicia they’re leaving as well so they don’t worry, and George pretends to miss the giggles and winks they give Y/N as he holds onto her. 

Thankfully, the Leaky Cauldron isn’t far from 93 Diagon Alley and soon enough George is placing Y/N in his bed and finding a change of clothes for her. It’s the middle of November, so he grabs a random old sweater his mum knitted him a few years back and while he looks for the pair of leggings she left here last time, he hears her soft gasp. 

When he turns to look at her, her eyes are fixated on the sweater in his hand. “That one’s my favourite.” 

George has a million sweaters, enough to fill a whole drawer full of them all in different colours, so he’s confused how Y/N knows which one this even is. 

“It’s the one with the frayed hand-holes, right?” George laughs at her usage of ‘hand-holes’ and unfolds the sweater to take a look at the sleeves, and sure enough, right where your hands pop out, the sleeves is fraying. 

“Why is this one your favourite, darling?” He questions, passing her the sweater. He turns his back to her, giving her some privacy as she takes her top off and she hums happily as the scent of George engulfs her senses. “It’s one of your oldest ones. So the Georgie-scent is the strongest.” 

George feels his cheeks heat up as Y/N slips the leggings up under her skirt and then struggles to undo her buttons. “Georgie-scent?” 

She hums in agreement as she finally gets the skirt off and drops it on the floor next to her. She’s curling herself up under the blankets when she looks at George and before her sober thoughts can catch them, drunk words are tumbling out of her mouth, “Reminds me the most of my Amortentia.” 

George pauses and stares at her, processing the words she just said. George only received three O.W.L’s during his time at Hogwarts and none of them were potions, but of course, he’s well aware what Amortentia is. He sells them at work, after all.

The most powerful love potion in the world.

“Firework smoke, Molly’s home-cooked meals and… Alcohol.” She mumbles when George doesn’t speak and she looks like she’s fallen asleep but George knows she isn’t. 

“Sure it isn’t Fred, love?” He laughs as he asks but his insecurities are there, shoved way down into the pit of his stomach, threatening to spill out. Firework smoke and his mum’s home-cooked meals scream both of them without a doubt, and George can’t help but convince himself that Fred could definitely have an explanation for the alcohol. 

Now she’s realised what she’s said, and she takes one look at George and she shoves her head into the pillow. “God, this isn’t how I was planning to tell you.” She’d actually never planned on telling him, convinced someone as perfect as George Weasley would ever love her back, but her brain had other plans.

“Tell me that you like my brother?” He jokingly questions, the insecurities fading but still feeling the need to tease her. When she laughs and rolls her eyes, George knows he’s calmed her down from a perch she didn’t realise she was on. She sits up quickly and her face looks a little green at first for how quick she moves. “Who looks after me when I’m drunk, George? I don’t see Fred anywhere.” She’s smirking now and George has to resist the urge to crawl into bed with her and kiss her senseless. 

“My Amortentia smells like you as well, by the way.” The smile Y/N gives him is bright enough it could light up the City of London. “Really?” she questions, and the way she sways in bed George can tell she’s still intoxicated and he can only hope she remembers this conversation in the morning because he knows he won’t be brave enough to initiate it again. 

“Really. Sunflowers, chocolate and…” He hesitates, laughing at how dumb they both are, “Firewhiskey.”

She screeches in embarrassment and before he knows it, Y/N’s dragging him into his bed and she’s giggling. “That’s so embarrassing!” she exclaims, “But so expected.” 

They roll around in the sheets for a few seconds, trying to grab at each other and laughing at the coincidences before George gets up and changes. Y/N watches him intently, trying her best not to objectify him in her mind but he’s just so damn gorgeous she can’t help it. She wants to kiss every inch of his skin and let everyone know the wonderful man standing in front of her is her's.

And when he goes to slip out of the room, thinking she’s fallen asleep, she pouts and clears her throat, causing him to turn and face her.

“You. Me. Bed. Cuddling. Now.” She says, nay demands and he has no choice. He slips into bed beside her and once again, for the second time that night, she’s slotted herself next to him. 

“I really do love you, you know.” She mutters against his neck and she feels his breath hitch. “I’m not just saying it because I was drunk. I mean, like I said it because I was drunk, but it’s true.”

George pauses, not wanting to upset her with what he says next, “Are you going to remember in the morning?” He’s trying not to let his fear be known, but with how close Y/N is, he knows she felt his body react subconsciously. Y/N’s had nights when she doesn’t remember anything she’s said- not because she’s drunk too much, but she’s naturally a forgetful person and the alcohol doesn’t help. 

“Of course, and if I don’t because I don’t remember tonight… I’d hope you’d tell me.” She reassures him, looking up at him and pressing a soft kiss to his chin from her position in his arms. 

George lets out a breath and looks at the girl in his arms and decides that he can’t keep it to himself anymore and that he’d shout it from every rooftop that he’s in love with Y/N Y/L/N. So he presses a kiss to her forehead, next, her nose, then her cheeks and lastly, a soft kiss on her lips.

“I promise I will. You and me forever.” 

[beyondspaceandstars]

Renegade

Relationship: Din Djarin x Reader Warnings: N/A Summary: [based off the song Renegade by Big Red Machine feat. Taylor Swift] You're a shopkeeper in a remote corner of the galaxy just trying to get by. For some reason, every now and then a certain Mandalorian pops into town. He comes and goes as he pleases until one day you finally get the courage to confront him on his drifter habits. Unexpected confessions spill out. A/N: I haven’t written something for The Mandalorian in a long time but i just had this idea for a while and i wanted to actually try to execute it. Idk if this came out good but i think it’s still sweet. I hope someone enjoys it :)

Masterlist

You never knew when he was coming into town.

It would happen pretty much in the blink of an eye. You’d shut down your store for the day, retire to your home, then he’d be there, in the middle of the village, bright and early. The Mandalorian kept no schedule it seemed but his surprise visits were always welcomed by you. 

He’d make it a point to stop at your store first. He never really bought anything, just browsed the fabric and clothing you had to offer. The Mandalorian seemed to appreciate your craftsmanship, always taking time on his stay to ask about your newer items or what your plans were for your next collection. Your shop was modest but it helped bring in some kind of income which was very valuable as the fate of the galaxy hung in limbo.

You built up some kind of rapport with the masked man but feelings have been shifting within you for a while. You didn’t really understand how it was possible. You had begun falling for a man that never even gave you the courtesy of saying goodbye. But at the same time, the hours you would spend chatting meant everything to you. It felt so good to confide in someone as a life as a solo storekeeper could be quite a lonely one. He also seemed to be no stranger to loneliness as a man roaming the galaxy, taking odd bounty jobs. Nowhere to really call his own. 

A deep, deep part of you wished he would call this village his home. He seemed to enjoy it here, evident by his numerous stops. When he’d come and go from your shop, he was always bringing back new treasures. The woman down the road would be testing a new stew recipe or the jewelry maker at the end of the block had talked him into buying something. Most of the time, he’d just give the items to you, claiming he couldn’t resist the shopkeeper but had no use for the trinkets. The pseudo-gift giving was a little ridiculous to you but it couldn’t help but fuel your burning crush. You always accepted and wore whatever the Mandalorian presented. 

Yes, you two definitely had formed a relationship over time. You didn’t know really what to call it and you two never seemed to want to speak about it but it was no secret that it was there, and you were a bit thankful for it. No matter where he had gone or how long he had left for, you were always there to welcome him back to the village with open arms.

As many times before, the Mandalorian arrived unexpectedly one beautiful, clear morning. He was hovering around your shop, seemingly waiting. His armor shined so loudly in the daylight, it was nearly blinding, but you appreciated how powerful he was. He may show you his soft side in the village but you’d heard plenty about his hunts. If the truth was even half as alarming as the gossip, you were impressed he could have such a gentle side. 

“You’re early,” you called out, pulling your shawl tighter around you as you walked towards the passing bounty hunter. He stopped dead in his tracks upon hearing your voice. 

“It would appear I am,” he said, letting out a breathy laugh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the time.”

You came to stop right in front of him. You peered up at his helmeted face. You certainly couldn’t see anything through that insane gear but some part of you still felt him staring into your eyes, deeply. Instinctively, you fiddled with the necklace resting on your lower neck. The charm was a piece of some dark crystal. You didn’t know what it was and you were slightly too nervous to inquire the jewelry maker about it but the Mandalorian standing before you had given it to you the last time he was here. He simply said he thought it would look nicer on you. You didn’t ask anymore.

“It’s alright,” you smiled. “I’m just glad to see you back here in one piece.”

He seemed a bit taken back by that. You worried you had overstepped the boundary between flirting and kindness but then he tilted his head, curiously. “Yeah?”

Oh, you felt yourself blushing a bit. You ducked your head and stepped around him, beginning to work on the lock of your shop. 

“Yeah,” you shrugged and opened the door. The Mandalorian followed closely behind. “I’ve heard your work can be demanding. Lots of opportunities for you to get hurt.”

“Does that worry you?”

You stopped in front of the pile of new fabrics you had just woven. You sighed. “I’ve come to think of us as a little bit more than acquaintances. It’s normal to worry about others.”

You swore you heard him let out a low chuckle at that but he didn’t acknowledge it. Or your statement. You chose to do the same. You walked around to the counter and began prepping the logbooks for the day. The Mandalorian continued to hang around, gaze and hands roaming the new pieces you had set up last night. You were hoping this new collection you were previewing was going to bring in some hefty credits. Maybe allow you to take a holiday.

The Mandalorian broke the tense silence with the most unexpected comment. “I worry about you too, you know.” 

Your finger stopped abruptly as it scanned your list of sales for the week. When you had offered your care, you had never expected it back. You two technically weren’t on that level, at least not verbally. In other formats of gift-giving and worried looks, it was a different story. 

“You worry about me?” You inquired, brows raised in surprise. 

He gave a very Mandalorian-like shrug, his gaze still fixated on your for-sale items. Something in you was crushed when it looked like you weren’t getting any more from him. Maybe he’d disappear tonight, embarrassed by this exchange. But then by some miracle, he spoke again.

“Of course,” he said it like it was so obvious. “You’re a very kind shopowner living out in this village alone. This galaxy, no matter what corner you hide in, can be dangerous.”

You smiled to yourself. “I’ve done this for many years, Mandalorian. I think I will be alright.”

He hummed in acknwoeldgement. “I’m sure,” he mumbled. “But can you blame me for having concerns?”

This conversation sure was going to a funny place, you thought, but you were along for the ride. If he was going to talk about concerns, you could for sure rattle off yours. He was worried about your safety in this little village while you worried for his health. It cannot be good for a human, assuming he was human under all that gear, to be wandering the galaxy with no rhyme or reason besides the bounties strung about this galaxy. You never thought you’d express these things to him but the Mandalorian appeared to be a talkative one today. And you felt you two were beyond strangers. 

“Well, I’m flattered you think of me,” you admitted. “But I fear it’s you who faces more dangers than me.”

The helmeted man gave a little scoff at that comment. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Sure, you didn’t doubt that, but that wasn’t what was on your mind. “I’m not talking about bounty hunting. I’m talking about your habit of being a drifter.”

The words didn’t feel very impactful in your brain but when they hit the open shop it was like you had dropped a bomb. The Mandalorian stilled, his gloved hand letting go of one of the scarves you had laying on a table. He began making his way suddenly towards where you still stood behind the counter. You frowned.

“A drifter?”

His eye gaze wasn’t seen but it was sure felt. You shrugged. “I’m not a fool. I know you bounce around from planet to planet throughout this galaxy. Maker knows why you keep coming back here but... I just worry you don’t have a home-,”

“I don’t,” he confirmed. Your heart all about stopped. Well, you didn’t exactly want to be right.

“Oh,” you said, averting your eyes to the wood counter. “And that doesn’t bother you? You must want someone waiting for you. Someone to just spend...moments with.”

“Don’t I have you?”

The question hung in the air between you two like a heavy pendulum. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. He… He thought of you like that? Of this village? But why would he… Oh, but didn’t it make some kind of sense? The reappearing? The coming and going… He waltzed in and tried to get to know everyone. Got to know you.

Your head was a jumbled mess, so much so the only thing you could get out was a soft, “Me?”

The Mandalorian nodded. He wasn’t looking anywhere near you, finding such interest in the wall of your shop. But you noted his stiff stance. Maybe he hadn’t meant to say that… Except he had. And now it was out there. Something in the mysterious bounty hunter made him let out such a grand confession.

“Yes,” he eventually confirmed. “You. This village. I have that. I have this to come back to.”

With thoughts swimming violently, you had to ask, “But why don’t you stay?”

“I have jobs to do.” He almost sounded offended you had asked that. You shook your head.

“N-No, I mean… Get a place for yourself. You’re always sleeping on that ship. Maybe accept the invites to dinners the sweet lady down the path invites you to. Or you and I could…” Your words faded fast, slightly scared of what was going to slip out. But the Mandalorian wasn’t letting it go.

He turned his gaze back to you. “We could what?”

“S-Spend time together or something,” you mumbled. Real smooth, you thought. Just the perfect way to flirt. You expected him to now be so offended, maybe even storm out such a suggestion, but the armored man didn’t move. Instead, he cocked his head, curious.

“You’d want to do that?”

You sighed. “I want you to start a life somewhere. Really start it. Drifting around this galaxy cannot be very promising. You deserve this. You deserve a home, Mando.”

“Din.”

Your brows furrowed. Now it was your turn to be curious. “What?”

“My name is Din,” he explained. “You don’t have to call me Mando.”

If a heart could sing, yours would be a full chorus. He finally told you his name. After collecting jewelry and stories, he had finally opened somewhat to you. That was a good sign, a great sign. 

“Din,” you said, testing the name. It rolled off your lips easily. “We’d love to have you around.” A beat. “I’d love it, especially.” It was a bold declaration but he had given you something, the least you could do was make your intentions more obvious.

“Thank you,” Din said. 

“Of course,” you shrugged. “We all need to find the place where we belong.”

Din let out a bit of a chuckle. You frowned at that.

“You think I belong here?” He asked, amused. 

You didn’t like that he wasn’t taking you seriously but it would be okay. Just gave you more of a reason to show him everything this place had to offer. From the nice shopkeepers to the lovely food. This would be some kind of home for him or at least a place where he’d always be welcomed. Your heart fluttered at the idea of him leaving less, maybe even never leaving. He could train people on fighting or - or… 

You had to stop yourself as your brain was getting beyond reality. You shot the Mandalorian a smile.

“I think you’ve always belonged.”

[sporticus1234]

Catch Me if You Can-Laws of Attraction (Part 1)

Summary: After weeks of flirting, teasing, and close calls, Tessa is ready to take the plunge, but can Gabe overcome his own worse fears and join her?

Pairing: Gabe Ricci x Main Character (Tessa Michaels)

Link to my Master-List and Other works will be added once they have been re-edited and re-uploaded.

Perma-Tags and LOA Tags: @choices-addict @choiceskatie @lady-calypso @chemist-ana @kat-tia801 @chrissythadon @nishas-paradise  @blainehellyes @mm2305 @suitfer​ @thegreentwin @pixelnutrookie​ 

I hope you all enjoy it and see you soon for some...adventures...in part 2.

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Rather than clumsy words, it’s your action that I believe. Don’t stop. Go past the limit. Go faster. I’m going to find my heart. So catch me if you can.

-Girls Generation, Catch Me if You Can (Korean Ver.)

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The once glittering ballroom filled with stimulating conversation, flowing bubbles of champagne, and decadent hor-dourves was now deserted and quiet, signaling the end of the extravagant weekend legal conference. As the last person Tessa was speaking to excused herself for the evening, she looked around the empty space littered with discarded champagne flutes and linen napkins, her spirits deflating at the sight. The conference ended as quickly as it began, and come Monday morning, she would be back in the office, the competition still at the forefront of everyone’s minds.

It may have been a short weekend, but Tessa was grateful for the time away from the office. The past few weeks were filled with nothing else but case after case coming one after another and nonstop talk about the competition, particularly from Martin. But for a tiny period of time, all of that vanished out of sight and out of mind. She laughed and joked with her colleagues and bosses like they were all good friends. She camped and ate smores in a beautiful forest, and she finally got her first full night of sleep since she started working at McGraw Byrne. She truly felt like she had been transported to a completely different world, one she found hesitant to leave behind for an entire year.

Stifling the yawn sneaking up on her, she left the ballroom behind, her spirits still thrumming with excitement from the evening, but her body yearning for a soak in a hot bath and some sleep in the oversized hotel bed. She was halfway across the empty lobby, gilded elevator doors in sight, when her feet came to a stop outside of the hotel’s bar. She didn’t even have to look to know exactly who was sitting in that dimly lit bar. He had a larger-than-life presence, no matter what room he was in, that was like a magnet, drawing everyone’s attention, even if he was just randomly passing by on the sidewalk.

Her tiredness completely forgotten, she hovers near the entryway and discretely watches him. He’s sitting by himself at the bar, nursing what Tessa knows is a glass of scotch on the rocks along with a basket of half-eaten chips and dip, his eyes occasionally flicking up to the large screen TV showing a basketball game taking place on the other side of the country. His jacket is discarded on the back of his chair, his tie loosened slightly and the buttons of his shirt rakishly undone at the top. Despite his disheveled, executive blowing off steam look, he is still just as handsome and attractive as he was just a short time ago when he was polished and buttoned up. Maybe even more.

A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she watches him. Gabe was such a surprise when she first came to New York, and she never expected to become so charmed by him. The man has such a lavish and lively personality on the outside, but on the inside is a man driven to be the best and passionate about using his vast knowledge to help everyone. His heart is as big as his office, a welcoming, refreshing contrast to the selfishness Tessa sees too often in this line of work. They have only known each other for a short time, but every time he came around, he put a smile on her face and made her stomach flip-flop. She couldn’t explain why he has such a pleasant effect on her. Perhaps it’s the way that when she flirts with him, he flirts right back with the same energy she gives him, maybe even more. Maybe it’s the way the two of them click when they’re together. Or maybe it’s the way he continues to keep her on her toes and excite her yet still make her feel a sense of comfort and familiarity at the same time. Regardless of the reasons, the one thing she was certain of was that she didn’t want this fluttering feeling to stop. Ever.

“Of course, you would be alone at a bar,” Tessa teases as she steps towards him.

Gabe swivels his head around at the sound of her voice, his eyes immediately catching hers as she approaches him. His lips twist into a grin, his spirits lifting like they always do whenever she is around. “Am I really that predictable?”

Tessa shrugs. “Maybe a little. But you wouldn’t be the Gabe Ricci we all know and love if you weren’t.”

Gabe chuckles. “Most people wouldn’t agree with you on that statement.”

“I’m not most people,” she fires back with a wink.

No, you are most definitely not Gabe thought. “What exactly are you doing still wandering around?” He glances down towards his watch, mildly surprised to find it still somewhat early. “The cocktail party ended almost an hour ago. I figured you would be in bed like everyone else.”

“I planned on it, but then I saw this guy sitting all by himself in this empty hotel bar and thought he could use some company.”

Gabe’s eyes twinkle with delightful mischief as he takes another sip of his scotch. He was hoping the two of them could spend some more time together before the madness hit them Monday morning. “I think I know who you’re talking about. And I, for one, know that he would love to have some company, especially if the company happens to be you.”

Tessa gives him a shy smile as she slips into the bar stool next to him. An electrical, buzzing warmth fills up the space around them as butterflies flutter in her stomach at the near closeness to him, the scent of his cologne invading her senses and tempting her to come even closer. As she peruses the small menu, the lone bartender comes over and places a napkin down in front of her.

“Anything to eat or drink?”

“A Manhattan please.”

The bartender nods before turning to Gabe. “Another refill for you, sir?”

“Please,” Gabe replies. “And put her Manhattan on my tab as well.”

The bartender grabs Gabe’s empty glass and heads down to the other end of the bar. Once he’s fully out of hearing range, Tessa turns to face Gabe. “You didn’t have to do that,” she says. “I am more than capable of paying for my own drinks.”

“I know you could pay for it,” Gabe responds before his lips curl into his trademark sly smirk, “or you could let Sadie pay for it.”

“Wait, what?”

Gabe nods, his smirk growing bigger. “Consider it another partner-only secret. This conference is one of the few events Sadie lets us have more…leeway…with the company credit card. Any food or drinks we buy at this conference gets covered by the firm.”

“And something tells me you’re taking full advantage of that offer,” Tessa says.

Gabe gives her a wink. “What can I say? A good attorney knows a good offer when they see it.”

“In that case,” Tessa flags down the bartender again. “I’ll do an order of the spicy fried pickle chips with that Manhattan.” The bartender nods and disappears into a back room. Tessa turns her head, seeing Gabe looking at her with an amused expression on his face. “What’s that look for?”

Gabe chuckles, shaking his head. “Just wondering if I’m going to regret sharing that secret with you.”

“Don’t worry,” Tessa grins at him. “Your secret is safe with me. But if Sadie cuts us off or starts questioning anything on the credit card bills, I’m placing the full blame on you.”

The two of them continue to make small talk until the bartender comes back a few minutes later. He places their drinks and her basket of food down before excusing himself and shuffling into the back room once again. Tessa grabs her glass and holds it up in a toast, prompting Gabe to do the same.

“To drinks on someone else’s dime,” she states.

The two of them share a laugh as they clink their glasses together. Tessa takes a sip of her drink, the whiskey a sharp contrast to the bubbly champagne of the reception. The liquid pools like fire in her stomach and flows throughout her body, warming her up and loosening her muscles. “Best Manhattan I’ve ever had.”

Gabe cocks his eyebrow. “Is it really the best?”

“Oh, not by a long shot. But since I didn’t have to pay for it, I consider it the best in my book.”

“You really are a woman after my own heart,” Gabe replies. Tessa tucks her gaze away from him, feeling her face grow hot at the combination of the whiskey and his spell-binding charm. She takes another sip of her drink before sliding the basket of pickle chips towards him. He throws her an appreciative “thanks”, taking a chip and popping it into his mouth before continuing their conversation. “How did you enjoy the conference?”

“I really liked it,” Tessa answers. “I never got the chance to do things like this with my old law firm.”

“What? Have free food and drinks on someone else’s dime with a devastatingly handsome senior partner?”

Tessa shoves him with a laugh. “No, you complete smart ass. I meant going out to events and connecting with other people.” She absentmindedly picks the coating off a pickle chip, her mind reminiscing. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my hometown, but there was no excitement in my life. It was the same boring routine every single day.”

“Sounds like you and McGraw Byrne are a perfect match.”

Tessa nods. “Honestly, I really have you to thank. If you didn’t recommend hiring me to Sadie, I still would be stuck in the same boring routine. It sounds really sappy, but you really did change my life for the better…in more ways than one.”

The raw honesty in her voice tugs at his heartstrings, his lips twitching into another smile. He’s used to hearing those words come from his clients, but hearing those words come from her just felt…different, and it made him feel something he couldn’t quite place his finger on.

“You’re very welcome,” Gabe earnestly tells her. “I wouldn’t have recommended you if I didn’t think you were a stellar attorney. You deserve to be here just as much as everyone else, and I truly mean that. McGraw Byrne needed someone like you. Hell, the legal world needs more attorneys like you.”

“What? Sappy and sentimental ones?”

“No,” Gabe says, stifling his chuckle. “I meant attorneys who are passionate about their job and passionate about connecting with people. So many attorneys don’t take the time to really understand or listen to their clients. Having someone like you, someone who actually connects with clients and goes above and beyond to help them, really does make a world of difference.” Gabe takes a pickle chip and pops it into his mouth. “But I really am happy you decided to take Sadie up on her offer to join us, even if the past few days have given you plenty of good reasons to quit.”

Tessa blows out a harsh breath, knowing exactly what Gabe was referring to. “Yeah, they have been quite…challenging.”

“I meant to ask you earlier, but how’re you holding up?”

Tessa sighs, dragging her fingertip over the rim of her glass. “Honestly, I’m still pissed that Beau stole the credit from me in front of everyone, but I should’ve expected someone to pull that stunt sooner or later.” She blinks back a tear trying to escape. “It just sucks to be the one it happens to.”

“I know, and I truly am sorry Beau pulled such a dick move on you.” He sympathetically lays a gentle hand on her bare shoulder, the touch sending comfort through her veins. “If I could’ve done something to make it better, I would’ve done it in a heartbeat.”

“I know you would’ve, but I do appreciate you not saying anything to Sadie.”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t my place to tell her. Besides,” he takes his hand off her shoulder, already missing the feel of her smooth, soft skin, “the only thing it would’ve done was make you and me look bad in front of Sadie.”

“Sounds like someone has personal experience.”

Gabe runs a hand through his hair. “Happened to me once back in my early legal days, but instead of getting the credit and respect that I rightfully deserved, I got told off for being a bad ‘team player’ and trying to take someone else’s credit.”

“That’s so unfair,” she practically spits.

Gabe lets out a bitter, humorless guffaw. “Preaching to the choir on that one. You’ll find that every group will have one person who will do none of the work or the one person that will take credit for anything and everything. Fortunately for us, Beau happens to be both of those assholes wrapped up in one, so we save a lot on payroll.”

Tessa laughs weakly at his joke, the sting of Beau’s betrayal still fresh in her mind. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better. It just sucks knowing that Sadie is always going to believe that Beau solved the case.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m still incredibly proud of you, even if Sadie never knows the truth.”

“You…are?” she asks, surprise etched on her face as she turns her body towards him.

“Absolutely,” Gabe says, no hesitation in his voice. “Without you, we possibly would’ve never solved it to begin with, nor would Lydia have thought to make Joey sign a prenup. But what really impressed me was how you were the only one to step up and take initiative when needed. Not many of the senior partners would go to such lengths for a teenager like Lydia, but you did.”

“I guess,” Tessa mutters. “I just hope it will be enough come Monday.”

“It will be,” Gabe assures her as he steals another pickle chip.

“Really? I figured Sadie would shove Beau to the top of the rankings after he basically saved the firm.”

“Everyone in that room knows who really saved the firm, and it wasn’t Beau,” Gabe points out. “Even if Sadie believes he did, she’s also smart enough to know that one win, no matter how big it is, isn’t enough to judge how good an attorney is or will become. Beau may have stolen one win, but you’re still the one to beat.”

“I guess that’s true…”

“Plus, you showed her tonight how well you bounce back after taking a loss.”

“What do you mean?”

“Between moot court, the pro bono cases, the vaccine trial, and everything else we’ve observed, you had a major winning streak that Beau decided to snap. Most people would sulk in their losses, but you didn’t. You showed up tonight, looking incredible might I add, and managed to put everything behind you to impress the right group of people.”

“If you say so.”

“I know so,” Gabe confidently replies. He reaches out and covers her hand with his, trying to ignore the tingling buzzes on his skin. “You’re a wickedly smart attorney, Tessa. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.”

“Thanks Gabe,” she says, the goofy smile plastering on her face at his heartfelt compliment. “That…that really means a lot to me.”

“It should,” Gabe tells her, reluctantly pulling his hand away again. “I wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t the absolute truth. Just forget about Vegas and the Rothswells and continue onto the next case.”

Tessa nods and takes another sip of her drink as the conversation between them dies down. She may have already forgotten the Rothswells and was slowly getting over from Beau’s stolen win, but Vegas was still on her mind. It wasn’t just the city that occupied her thoughts, but rather, it was the small wedding chapel and the night she played fiancée to the man sitting next to her. That night was an intense roller coaster of emotions, desires, and confusion; it was a night where lines became blurred and questions began to arise at the nature of her and Gabe’s relationship. It was one specific little interaction that made Tessa not only sense a shift in their relationship, but triggered her to start over analyzing and over thinking every little action from their first meeting up until now.

“Nothing but the best for the most stunning woman on the Strip.”

“Alvin’s gone, you know. You don’t have to—”

He raises a finger to her lips, laying it softly against them as he gives her a smoldering look that makes her throat dry up. “What if I want to, Tessa?”

Tessa truly felt at that moment they were no longer pretending. The things he said to her that night with such conviction in his eyes and voice. The way he softly caressed and touched her with such adoration and tenderness. The way his breath tickled her lips and sent shivers throughout her body at their near-kisses. They were not things done by someone just “pretending”; no one was that good of an actor. However, despite his actions in the wedding chapel, there was one moment that made her second guess herself completely. Just as she was about to admit her feelings for him, he brusquely cut her off and completely changed the direction of the conversation. What punctuated that gut-wrenching action was him dropping her hand quickly, as if he had been burned by her touch. The cocktail of mixed signals made her head pound in dizzying confusion, and it was becoming difficult to ignore for much longer.

She glances over at Gabe, worrying her lip between her teeth and mentally debating whether or not to step into that territory of complete openness. She has a nice, working relationship with him, and she doesn’t want to risk making it awkward to be around him if he truly doesn’t feel anything towards her. On the other hand, she wants to know for her own sake of mind; she has to know if Gabe’s confusing behavior and mixed signals mean anything. They’re off the clock, away from the office, with no interruptions coming between them. It’s the perfect opportunity to air everything out, and hopefully come Monday, there would be no more confusion or misunderstandings.

“Speaking of Vegas…” Tessa mumbles, carefully avoiding his eyes. “I think we should talk.”

Gabe’s spine stiffens in alert at the sudden shift in her demeanor. “About…what, exactly?”

She takes a deep breath, knowing it was too late to steer this conversation in another direction. “About what happened at the wedding chapel.”

“Ah,” Gabe interjects, “that was some brilliant thinking on your part, with the rat and all.”

“That wasn’t the part I wanted to talk about.” She turns her head to look at him. “I wanted to talk about the whole ‘pretend’ couple in love situation.”

“What was wrong with it?” he asks her, his nerves starting to creep up on him.

“Nothing,” she quickly replies. “I was just thinking…what you said…” She takes another deep breath, preparing herself to blurt it out before she lost her nerve. “Did you ever have a moment where…you didn’t think it was pretend?”

Depends on what your answer is going to be. “What do you mean?”

“I know the whole situation was supposed to be pretend in order to get a copy of Lydia’s marriage license, but…some of the things you said…and did…” her ears grow hot as a shiver races down her spine at the memory of Gabe’s gentle caress on her wrist, the pure intimacy behind it.

“Didn’t seem like pretend?” he finishes.

“Yeah.”

“And what do you think?”

Tessa sits there silently contemplating her answer. Up until this point, Tessa never had any reason to doubt Gabe. He is a man who never makes anyone second guess his true intentions or meanings. Every word he speaks is nothing short of the truth. But his reaction on the Strip was the first time she questioned his true intentions. If Gabe did mean what he said, then why did he quickly divert the conversation and act like he couldn’t stand to be around her? Her inner conscience was waving a massive red flag in front of her, but when Gabe gripped her chin and turned her head to focus on him, she caught herself slipping back into the warm pools of his chocolate-colored orbs.

“I really hope you weren’t pretending,” she softly says, voice barely above a whisper.

Gabe feels his stomach lurch at her confession, and the corners of his mouth tug up into a small smile at her answer. Gabe wasn’t going to lie. From the minute she stepped into the office, he became fascinated with her. She was beautiful, but what caught his attention was the way she introduced herself to the others. She was the only one who stood up and spoke with such confidence and conviction about winning the partnership that he would’ve given the spot to her immediately if his name was on the building.

“That’s because I wasn’t.”

Her eyes widen. “Wh…what?”

His thumb skates over her bottom lip, gently tugging it downwards, her breath hitching at the intense, smoldering look in his eyes. “I wasn’t pretending in the wedding chapel. I truly wanted to tell you that you were the most stunning woman on the Strip because you were, and I will always think you’re the most stunning woman I will ever come across.”

“And last night?”

“I still mean it,” he tells her, taking his hand away. “I really do enjoy spending time with you, and I want to spend whatever time I have with you and only you.”

“Good.” Tessa covers his hand with hers, the electric current running between them turning into tingling shivers chasing each other up and down her spine. “Because I really, really like spending time with you too.”

The smile on his face grows bigger, turning into the most genuine one he’s ever had with someone else. Their fingers tentatively move and twist together, the air buzzing with energy just waiting to be released. A sigh of relief floods through him once he sees their hands joined together. He feared he overstepped that night in Vegas, especially since he was sharply reminded of how Tessa flirted with the fireman a few weeks ago for her eviction case. But sitting here now, their confessions out in the open, their hands joined together, made all of it real.

“So where do we go from here?”

Gabe furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”

“We just admitted we like each other, Gabe,” Tessa states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “The question is, what comes next? Are we together? Do we see where this goes?”

Gabe bit the inside of his cheek at her question, the bliss from earlier now getting replaced with dread and guilt. He knows exactly what he wants to do next. He wants to invite her to his hotel room tonight, spend hours tangled in the silk sheets together, then wake up and do it all again tomorrow morning. He wants to take her out to dinner tomorrow night and treat her to the most decadent food in the city while he teases and touches her until she can no longer bear it. He wants to be openly affectionate with her in the office…and maybe do a few more things behind the closed doors of his office. But he can’t, and he knew the exact reasons why.

The first reason was the more obvious one. She is currently in the competition for a junior partnership, and he is the one overseeing it and potentially making the final decision on who takes his former position. They are co-workers, and while Sadie has no real binding rule that co-workers cannot date or see each other outside of work, Gabe knows there will always be a cloud of doubt and speculation hovering over Tessa if the office discovers they are seeing each other and she wins the junior partnership. Gabe was already beating himself up for what happened between her and Beau; he would never be able to forgive himself if he was the cause of ruining her reputation and the potential she has at becoming the next great attorney. How could he look himself in the mirror every morning if this blows back up in their faces?

But the less obvious reason was a hidden secret, one that he hasn’t shared with anyone else. It was the one reason that stopped him from taking her up to his penthouse in Vegas and doing all the things he fantasizes about doing with her. It was the one reason for the walls Gabe built up over the years that no one else has been able to break down. It was the one reason that prevented Gabe from crossing the lines he wanted to cross. As easy as it would be to cross them tonight with nothing stopping them, he knows he has to make the tough decision, not only to protect her, but also to protect himself. He just hopes it doesn’t change anything between them.

“As much as I would love for us to be together,” he runs his thumb soothingly over her knuckles, already feeling guilty for what he was about to say to her, “I don’t think it would be wise to pursue it.”

“O…oh,” the smile on her face falters at his stinging rejection.

“It’s not that I don’t want you,” Gabe quickly assures her.

“Sure feels that way,” she blurts out with a bitter laugh.

Gabe sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “You’re stunning Tessa, and whatever would happen between us would be so goddamn mind-blowing, because I know exactly what I’d do with a girl like you.”

As much as his rejection stings, the dark tendrils of desire twist and twirl together inside at the sound of that highly promising and exciting invitation, the rush of desire making her shift in her seat at the tingling sensation. However, his tone tells her he was about to say one little three-letter word that was going to take the invitation back and make the rejection even worse.

"But...?"

Gabe shakes his head and averts his eyes from the pain blooming in hers. “We can’t act on it. I can’t act on it.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“I…can’t,” he relents. He untangles their fingers and pulls his hand back to his side of the bar, no matter how painful it is for him to do so. “You already saw how low Sadie’s own blood would go to push himself ahead. Just imagine how low the others would go if they suspected—”

“You and I were seeing each other?”

Gabe nods, a small twinge of relief pricking his heart at her understanding. “Opportunities like this bring the worst out in people.”

“Considering I just had firsthand experience on how shitty people can be, I do understand it.” She takes another drink of her Manhattan, the sting now turning into simmering annoyance. “What I don’t understand is why us being together is now such a big deal for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying, you didn’t seem too concerned with people seeing us together or what they thought when we went to Hoi On and that business dinner you specifically invited me to,” Tessa shrugs. “I’m just curious about the change of heart all of a sudden.”

“I didn’t have a change of heart. Those situations were entirely different.”

“Different how?”

Gabe pauses for a second to gather his thoughts. He had to tread lightly going forward, or else any chance the two of them had with each other in the future was going to be destroyed. “When I invited you to Hoi On, the other associates weren’t in the office. I knew Aislinn wasn’t going to say anything to Sadie, so no one was going to question why I brought you there.”

“And the business dinner?”

“It truly was supposed to be a business dinner and an opportunity for you to network yourself,” Gabe admits. “I didn’t know beforehand that he was going to cancel on me, and as far as the office is concerned, no one knows that he canceled on me, so everyone still suspects the three of us had that business dinner.”

“But then…oh…” Tessa trails off, another wave of disappointment crashing into her chest. “I get it.”

“You do?”

She nods. “You’re embarrassed to be seen with me. I get it. The senior associate and the top senior partner being seen together would hurt your image with the other partners.”

A tinge of frustration punches his gut. “That’s not what I mean. I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you. If I was, I wouldn’t have invited you to join me at the lake.”

“Good point,” Tessa tells him. “You certainly didn’t mind taking me out to the lake last night with Sadie and the other associates sitting around.”

“That was different too,” Gabe bluntly responds. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then help me to understand,” she sighs, exasperated.

“There’s no point in tell you,” Gabe shoots back. “You’re intelligent and observant, Tessa. You know exactly why we can’t pursue…whatever there is between us.”

“The only thing standing in the way of pursuing whatever is between us is you,” Tessa points out.

He runs his hands through his disheveled hair again. “It’s not that I want to stand in the way of us. There’s so many reasons on why we shouldn’t pursue this.”

“Well, so far, you haven’t given me one that we can’t find a way to work around. So please enlighten me, Mr. Ricci,” she crosses her arms over her chest and gives him a hard stare. “Is your reasoning really about the partnership and my reputation, or is it about something more?”

As Gabe sits there in silence, Tessa’s mind flashes back to their previous interactions. Last night was the most unguarded she has seen Gabe since she started working at McGraw Byrne. The business dinner was the first time the two of them ever got physically close to each other. Vegas was the first time the two of them were fixing to jump across those boundaries and become one. But each time, Gabe pulled back, and his action spoke volumes. And with the way Gabe was currently avoiding meeting her gaze head on and how his fingers are tightly gripping his empty scotch glass makes the light bulb go off in her head. There was another reason Gabe was hiding, one that has to do entirely with himself. She just has to hope that she is important enough for him to be honest with her.

“Well?”

Gabe sighs. “It really is about the partnership,” he lies, firmly keeping his gaze locked on the bar top. “The partnership is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you shouldn’t waste it or throw it away.”

The air turns icy and frigid at his words. Tessa grabs her clutch off the bar top, knowing there was no more reason for her to still be around. “You may be able to bullshit other people, Gabe, but you’re not going to bullshit me. You and I both know this is more than just the partnership, and out of respect for your privacy, I’m not going to pry. Only you can make the decision to share it with me, but until you do, I think it’s best to forget whatever we feel for each other.”

Tessa gives his hand a soft pat before downing the rest of her drink and sliding off the bar stool. Before she could go far, Gabe’s hand reaches out and wraps around her wrist.

“Tessa…”

“Don’t worry about it, Gabe,” she says, gently prying his fingers off her wrist. “I’m honestly a little hurt and disappointed that you can’t be honest with me, but I’m not mad at you.” She places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I really do like you, Gabe, but I also like and respect myself too much to go after someone who isn’t as crazy about me as I am about them, nor will I go after someone who keeps pulling back when I want to get closer.”

“That’s not—"

She ignores his plea, digging into her clutch and pulling out a platinum-looking card. “You know where to find me when you make up your mind and have an answer for me, but don’t expect me to be waiting around forever for it.”

She places the card down on the bar top; with a sad smile, she brushes past him and heads out of the hotel bar, the tears stinging the corners of her eyes. Gabe watches her figure retreat until she disappears behind the gilded elevator doors.

“Dammit!” he slams a fist against the bar top. The empty glasses jump a little at the impact, but what catches his attention was the quick flash of light reflected on the platinum card as it jumped into the air. Gabe reaches out and slides it towards him, his spirits deflating even more when he sees what she left.

The spare key to her room.

To anyone else, it may be just a room key, but Gabe knows that it is so much more meaningful than that. It symbolizes the key to her heart and the key to their future together, a key that would only work for a short amount of time until Tessa closes both of those doors on him. The decision to walk through those open doors was entirely in his hands, but before he could do that, he has to make one other decision. The time had come for him to do the one thing he has avoided doing for years, the one decision he found easy to avoid until tonight.

It was time for him to confront himself and his fears.

__________________________________

This was going to go up a lot sooner, but because my job decided to go through some technology changes recently, it meant something that previously worked is now broken and no longer works. Unfortunately, that was me this time around, so my usual break times where I work on stories was used to help fix what someone else broke. 

Sorry about the delay, but I really do anticipate part 2 being uploaded soon, much sooner than LOA coming back from its hiatus.

For all of you who have read this story and made it this far, thank you so much for your support! It means more to me than you could ever imagine!

I love you all so much!

Second Chance Tagging in case Tumblr becomes Tumbroke again:  @choices-addict @choiceskatie @lady-calypso @chemist-ana @kat-tia801 @chrissythadon @nishas-paradise  @blainehellyes @mm2305 @suitfer​ @thegreentwin @pixelnutrookie​

[galest-pal]

Back at it again with Greed fanfics

In a sudden burst of motivation last night, I managed to crank out a reader fic for one of my favorite prompts!

Summary: A late night closing at the Devil’s nest turns into something unexpected as you’re forced to confront your feelings for your boss, Greed

Pairing: Greed x F!Reader (no y/n) I promise you, I’ll write more GN and Male reader in the future 

Warnings: No explicit smut (I’ll post the smutty second part at another time), Steamy flirting, bratty behavior from reader, Mutual pining, mention of alcohol, both you and Greed have rather vivid imaginations

Word Count: 1.7k

If you have any feedback or suggestions, please feel free to shoot me a message or ask :) <3

        A dim light flickered above you as you stood at what was usually a crowded and lively bar counter. It was an hour or so after you had announced your last call and the remaining stragglers had vacated the area. Now it was just you left with your closing tasks. Your boss never really told you that you had to do these things but feeling a sense of responsibility (and pride) you took upon yourself to treat this as any other place you’ve worked before. A last minute group had caused you to be much more behind than you were used to. By this time you were long gone home and asleep. You stifled a yawn as you continued to polish the various glasses that were nestled behind the counter.

       A sudden knock at the door nearly caused the shot glass in your hand to crash to the ground. You let out a groan as you roughly slammed the glass onto the counter.

       “Look, can’t you read we close at 2!” You shouted at the closed door as you made your way over, yanking open expecting to be met with one of the local sleazeballs that hung around this place. You cut off your remaining insults as you were met face to face with your boss, the owner, Greed. His haunting eyes locked with yours as he leaned against the door frame wearing a rather amused look on his face.

      “M-Mr.Greed! Sir, I had no idea, I-” You rambled more to yourself as you stepped to the side to let him in. You scurried back to your familiar place behind the bar as you continued with a more rushed pace. It’s not that Greed scared you, far from it actually. He may be intimidating, sure but as far as bosses go, he certainly was up there with one of the best. Truth be told you were infatuated with him. One day Dolcetto accidentally spilled the beans on how Greed wasn’t exactly human or even chimera for that matter. Your attempts to grill him for more info were futile as he would just shrug and say

      “If you’re so curious, just go and ask him.” 

      Stubborn bastard. Every ounce of you wanted more than anything to know more about this guy and yet each time you found yourself stuttering and blushing like a schoolgirl. The last thing you wanted was for him to think of you as some bumbling moron. 

       Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Greed as he nonchalantly sauntered over to his usual perch on the nearby couch. No more than five minutes had passed as you found yourself getting antsy. It was hard enough that the two of you were breathing the same air but you could practically feel his eyes on you. You let out an involuntary shudder as you began to nervously chew at your cheek. To Hell with the closing tasks, with a little courage you could drift on over to him and tell him or rather show him how you felt. Heat blossomed on your cheeks are your imagination thought of rather passionate images. You let out a frustrated groan as you shook those thoughts away, this seemed to catch Greed’s attention as he voted to leave his usual spot for a more favorable position.

       “Ahem, have a rough night?” You nearly shrieked as Greed’s voice tore you from your mental prison. Rather than being a safe distance of several feet away, he was now sitting at the barstool located right in front of you. You cleared your throat and let out a nervous laugh.

     “N-no, not really. Just a late one I suppose.” You choked out your half-assed excuse and went back to polishing the glasses.

     Greed let out a laugh as he reached a long arm over the counter, you felt his hand brush against your hip as he snagged one of the clean shot glasses. At just that small of a touch, you felt your heart rate quicken and your knees slightly buckle. Greed either didn’t notice or didn’t care as he continued with grabbing a nearby left out bottle of booze as if nothing happened.

       “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you were afraid of me.” Greed spoke, keeping his gaze fixated on the now full glass in front of him. He held a rather bored expression as he studied the amber liquid. You gulped.

     “No, of course not! How could I ever! You’ve been so good to me, I practically owe you my life. If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be struggling to make ends meet.” You laughed nervously as you began to twiddle with your fingers. If only it were as easy as just saying ‘I crave you more than I crave air or water, Greed! Take me!’ but having such an intimate relationship with one’s boss was highly frowned upon. His posture remained unchanged but his eyes flicked up over his sunglasses to meet yours. You fought the urge to tear your gaze away but worried that that would have the undesired effect.

     “If I may.” Greed spoke as he propped his elbows against the counter. “Do you...live alone?” What the hell kind of question was that? Did he want to know about your family? No, that’s stupid, you've always been open about how far your parents lived. You pondered to yourself. If he isn’t asking about parents...and the only other type of person you’d live with is a...    

You quirked an eyebrow as you thought of the best way to approach this. 

    “N-no sir. I live alone. I’ve had a few relationships in the past, if that’s what you’re asking. But they all fell through.” Greed mentally kicked himself as he cursed at how quickly you saw through his question.

    “So, no special guy or gal in your heart at the moment?” He attempted to remain unbothered as he ran a hand through his hair to try to calm his nerves. Normally talking to humans wasn’t this hard but when it came to you it was like all the knowledge that Greed had so meticulously gathered over his 200 years of life was just whoosh out the window, gone, never to be seen again. Both of your gazes had been locked on each other before a laugh from you cut through the deafening silence.

     “Wow, you cut right to the chase, huh?” You giggled once more, reaching for both the bottle and glass. If this is how this conversation was going to go, you were going to need all the courage you could get your hands on. You poured yourself a glass as you mulled over Greed’s question. You didn’t want to lie to him, after all he made it a very clear point to never lie to another soul. But then again, you weren’t really planning on confessing tonight either. You downed your shot as the whiskey slightly burned at your throat on its way down. Perhaps playing it coy would be a safe bet. Greed’s gaze on you was unwavering as he watched you put both the glass and bottle back into its rightful places. He watched as you struggled to get the bottle of whiskey back to its high up place on the shelf of various alcoholic beverages, with each little futile jump, your skirt began to hike up more and more giving him a taste of your bare skin that he hadn’t yet seen. Greed wanted more than anything to rip those clothes right off your body and finally get a taste of what you felt like pressed against him. He could feel his need growing as his heart began to beat faster and the crotch of his pants began to get tighter.

    After finally, getting everything back in their rightful place you turned back to Greed, ready to answer his burning question.

    “Well, Mister Greed.” you paused as you leaned against the counter, whether it was just the one shot or the way you could see him visibly shift in his seat, you were filled with a newfound confidence. You mentally high fived yourself as you remembered that you had left the first few buttons of your blouse open giving whoever you desired an open view to your cleavage as a way to make more tips, but in this case Greed’s attention was worth far more than any tip ever could. Greed kept his lips sealed as he mentally battled his eyes to keep in touch with yours and not your chest.

   “There is one particular guy that I’ve had my eye on.” you said with a shrug “But I have no way of knowing if he feels the same.” Greed caught on to your cocky tone and decided that he wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction, at least not yet.

     “Really? Hmm, that’s a shame and here I thought you and Dolcetto were just friends. Guess I should’ve known seeing how much time you two spend together.” Greed returned with a smirk. You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

    “He’s my friend. And a good one at that, but it’s not like you would care to know or anything.” You bit back at him. Greed raised an eyebrow, his lighthearted demeanor suddenly vanishing.

     “You better watch your mouth, Sugar. Or else you’ll find that I’m not always such a nice guy.” Greed said as he rose from his seat. You however still had your face turned away stubbornly.

     “Why don’t you get your ass over here and make me shut my mouth.” The clatter of a barstool falling to the ground caught your attention and before you could register that he had vaulted over the counter, Greed was already behind you. He felt his strong hands harshly grab yours. Pinning them to the counter as he took a step closer, nestling his head near the crook of your neck. You could feel his chest pushed up against your back as his rough ragged breathing filled your ear. You fought the urge to shudder.

    “My my you’ve got quite the attitude on you sooner or later that’s going to get you into trouble.” Greed whispered right into your ear, his hot breath causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. You struggled to think of a response as your head started to cloud with a mix of fear and pure sexual need. Your heart beat rang loud in your ears as you could feel your legs begin to struggle to hold your weight.

Sorry for the sudden cliff-hanger but gotta keep the first part n$fw free for the most part!!

[pastelwitchling]

Alex had been quiet all day. Michael had stalled on his front porch for what must’ve been hours before Max and Kyle showed up in their dark suits.

Kyle looked solemn, his brows pinched like he didn’t quite know how to handle today either, and Max looked like he was there out of duty. He was needed, so he’d come. Michael found enough thought to be grateful for that at least. Every other piece of his mind was consumed with Alex inside.

Kyle had taken one look at the cowboy, clearly realized that he was not going to knock himself, and raised his own fist. The second Alex opened the door, his eyes fell on Michael, and something like relief settled in the slump of his shoulders.

He visibly swallowed and stepped aside to let them in. Kyle put a hand on his shoulder as he passed, but Michael only glanced up, holding his gaze for a second before looking away. He was afraid his eyes would reveal themselves to Alex like they always did; he was afraid Alex would know how happy he was that the bastard was gone.

They stepped into the living room, and Michael found Flint on the couch, in his own black suit. He was staring out the window, unfocused, his fingers interlocked on his lap.

Without a word, Alex nudged Kyle’s elbow and led them to the kitchen where Gregory and Clay, in their own suits, were preparing the trays of whiskey glasses and champagne bottles. Michael resisted the urge to down half a vodka and replace the other half with the acetone he had ready in his jacket pocket.

Alex squeezed Gregory’s arm as he walked past him. Nobody asked Alex why he was still in his jeans and flannel, why he hadn’t put on his suit yet. Michael imagined Alex saying he would do it just before the guests arrived. He wished he wouldn’t put it on at all. Jesse Manes, he knew, didn’t even deserve that much.

Was that why Michael’s fingers had been twitching since he’d gotten into his truck, why he couldn’t sleep at all last night, why seeing Alex now pressed a heavy weight on his chest? Was it because he knew they shouldn’t be preparing for a funeral now, that they should be celebrating?

Alex didn’t seem to think so as he wearily ran a hand through his hair, and pointed in the direction of the fridge when Kyle asked where they’d kept the bottles of water. He’d been there, after all, to help. Kyle Valenti and Alex Manes, eager to contribute to the funeral. All it took was Michael handing out ice for the drinks, and it really would’ve been Jesse’s worst nightmare come to life. Which, he supposed, seemed fitting.

Alex didn’t find it so funny. Michael caught him slapping his own cheek a few times in the corner, as if trying to keep awake. He used his crutches despite keeping his prosthetic on, as though he’d made it halfway to pretending he was fine, then given up.

That, Michael realized, was what had been driving him crazy. The very innate, very accurate, very inexplicable knowledge that Alex very much wasn’t fine. And it was killing Michael not to know why. The scariest monster under his bed was finally dead, shouldn’t he have been happy?

Max had joined in to help the brothers prepare, including himself in their murmured conversations, as if careful not to scare the shadows and ghosts. Or maybe it was just habit for them to whisper when they were together. Maybe they knew better than to be heard and risk the wrath of the cruel man that had once ruled them.

It was Clay that interested Michael the most after Alex. Interest, for someone like Michael, who’d known his share of bad guys that were meant to be good, came from wariness. He knew he liked Gregory, he knew he disliked Flint, but Clay was a mystery. He had graduated when Michael first found out about the Manes men at all, and the stories about him were few and far in between. He had no idea what to expect. All he knew was that Clay looked like Gregory, so he looked like their father. He had the same hard forehead that Gregory had, the same blue eyes that Jesse did, the same mouth that could easily turn to a sneer.

But Clay didn’t have the kindness to his eyes that Gregory did. Gregory looked like he was assessing you, Clay looked like he’d already decided what you were. Michael only knew what to make of him when he put a hand on Alex’s shoulder and told him to go get some rest before the guests arrived.

“No,” Alex started weakly, but Clay was looking at him as a captain would at his unit. A look Alex had when he talked to almost everyone else.

“Alex,” he said more firmly, “get some shuteye, I’ll come wake you up in an hour.”

He didn’t say it like he was terribly worried for Alex’s wellbeing, but like it was the logical course of action. It was the language the Manes family understood best. Michael didn’t care. Alex looked like he was going to fall on his feet, and he backed up whatever side encouraged him to sleep.

Alex looked hesitant, and his eyes flitted to Michael, as if worried to leave him alone amongst his brothers. There was nothing else for it. Michael nudged his chin towards the narrow corridor, the silent message clear; Where you go, I go, Private.

Alex swallowed, like he was nervous, and went down the hallway for Michael to follow. Michael came into Alex’s bedroom to find him setting his crutches against the wall. He sat down on the edge of his bed, his palms rubbing busily up and down his thighs. He pressed his lips together in an awkward smile.

Michael hated that. He hated that they didn’t know what to say to each other. Even when their relationship had consisted mostly of staying in bed, they liked talking. He sat next to Alex so that their thighs touched, and reached a hand up, brushing back Alex’s bangs.

Alex leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering. Michael’s heart hammered. Before he could cup his cheek, Alex turned away and rubbed his face.

Michael leaned in until his nose was almost brushing Alex’s hair. “Talk to me,” he whispered.

Alex shook his head, and buried his face in the crook of Michael’s neck, inhaling deeply. Michael had the feeling it was his first breath in a while. He cupped Alex’s neck this time, keeping him in place.

His thumb reached up, caressing Alex’s jaw. “Please talk to me.”

Alex hugged Michael’s waist tightly, and turned his face into Michael’s collarbone. When he spoke, his lips brushed Michael’s skin and sent a pleasant shock throughout his body.

He breathed, “Can you sleep with me?”

Michael could only nod. He kicked off his boots and did the same to Alex’s. They lay on their sides on top of the blanket, Alex’s back to Michael’s chest. Michael took his jacket off and gently placed it over Alex’s shoulders, keeping him warm as he wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him in tightly against him.

He listened to Alex breathe while he inhaled the airman’s scent, his eyes fluttering to the soft strands of his hair, tickling his nose and cheeks.

“I’m not sorry he’s dead, Alex,” he confessed in a whisper that Alex shouldn’t have been able to hear if he was asleep. He wasn’t though, so he had.

Alex didn’t push him away or look disgusted. Instead he burrowed deeper against Michael, scrunching his shoulders under the warmth of his jacket.

“I know,” he murmured.

A long moment of silence passed, then Alex said, “I am.”

Michael swallowed and pulled Alex in closer. “I know.”

Why suddenly didn’t matter, because when Alex said his next words, his voice trembled, like he feared the answer. “Do you hate me?”

It broke Michael’s heart. He held Alex unbearably tight. “Not even if you’d saved him.”

Alex sniffled, but Michael didn’t need to see his face to know that there were tears. “Don’t leave,” he pleaded.

Michael pressed his face to the back of Alex’s head, kissing the nape of his neck. He felt Alex take his wrist in a tight hold, keeping them together. He didn’t know, and Michael blamed himself for that.

“I’m yours, Private,” he promised. “Where you go, I go.”

***

Let me take you into the garden, into the gard-eee-eeen, I’ll be the-eere 💐🎶