#fine game for sure but the first game was formulative while the second game felt tryhard. it comes with when Inolayed them

[lord-radish]

I've almost finished Borderlands: the Pre-Sequel, and I've gotta say, the Claptastic Voyage DLC is the Borderlands 1 throwback I was waiting for. It still has that overexaggerated Borderlands 2 comic relief in the main level, but there was a really nice throwback with Dr. Zed and Patricia Tannis, and I think they reused BL1 assets in the BL2 engine which was a cute touch.

I played a lot of Borderlands 1 as a teenager, and I only played the second game as an adult years later. That first game is really empty and dry and a little generic and flaky for the most part, but I really enjoy that spread-out, lonely feeling mixed with the PvE with the skags and rakk and stuff.

It isn't particularly light on dialogue, but it pales in comparison to the second game, where every mission has at least eight entirely voiced lines and random citizens make dubstep noises as you walk around the main hub area - I prefer the sparseness.

Borderlands: the Pre-Sequel is cut entirely from the cloth of Borderlands 2, and it's not a bad thing because BL2 is a technological upgrade from the first game and has way more functionality and flexibility on a gameplay scale. But it also takes after the second game way, way more than the first game, in that the dialogue is fairly dense and they're going for an actual story with key players, not a morally dubious treasure hunt sign-posted with story missions. The humor also has that thing where it's always undercutting itself and it feels like it's trying too hard - more of a BL2 thing than a BL1 thing.

Jack is a very talky character in the Pre-Sequel, given his prominent role and being set up for Borderlands 2, and you have the game's framing device as well which provides running commentary the whole time. You have a motif of heroes and villains not being who you thought they were, which I wasn't super into. It's very much Borderlands 2.5 in function rather than Borderlands 1.5, and while it's understandable on a gameplay level, I just didn't vibe with how hard the story and dialogue tries.

That being said? Claptastic Voyage is another page out of that book, but through the framing device of you going through Claptrap's memories, it acts as more of a bridge between the first two games than the main game does imo. I'm not done yet, but going back to this virtual Fyrestone to get this MacGuffin was a cute segment.

I also like Claptrap for the most part, even if he has a reputation for being a flat comic relief character in the first game. His hateablity was ramped up for the second game and he was turned into a caricature for the sake of humor, but I found it much more obnoxious when the second game continued to shit on him and outright call him unloved than even his small repertoire of canned lines in the first game.

He wasn't perfect in BL1, nor was he a sacred cow - one of my favorite parts of the first game was the Claptrap that gets ganked in the Island of Dr. Ned DLC. But he wasn't the outright punching bag and serial annoyance he was in the second game. Basically, I'm more in line with Angel's "funny little robot" comment than BL2 starting off by ripping out his eye and giving him an inferiority complex.

The Pre-Sequel proper and the DLC still has Claptrap being the point of much mockery and derision, but through seeing his memories and having his inner world be the setting of the DLC - having the character of Claptrap as a focus, in both the BL2 school of beating the shit out of him and giving him more of a straightforward way of addressing the past of BL1 - I think this DLC has bridged the gap between the games a whole lot more than the base Pre-Sequel game did.

To sum up my feelings, it's like the Pre-Sequel existed first and foremost to flesh things out for the second game - the next chronological entry in the series, released two years before - and the Claptastic Voyage DLC is acting more as a bridge between Borderlands 1 and 2. Borderlands 2.5 vs Borderlands 1.5, at least as far as tone and vibes go, even if the DLC still focuses a ton on that BL2 quality of writing.

[antisocialxconstruct]

a little bit of GC banter because this prompt infected my brain yesterday

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Ilya’s still slouched despondently in their seat when Maksim returns with the fries he had ordered just to buy them the table for a while. The little roadside stall was a compromise neither of them was especially satisfied with, after the pub that had been their first stop had barred them at the door and rather unkindly reminded Ilya that they had been banned the week before. Maksim vetoed their second choice, knowing it would be far louder than he could tolerate, but Ilya had refused to go anywhere that “felt ritzy,” and while they had refused to clarify any further Maksim suspected anywhere he would have chosen based on personal preference would probably qualify.

So they had walked until they found a place they could loiter for a while without drawing attention and talk in relative privacy. The very lightest of telepathic prodding had confirmed Maksim’s initial suspicion that the elderly troll behind the counter was not especially nosey.

“Still can’t believe it,” Ilya mutters as Maksim takes his seat. “You give one asshole a concussion, suddenly you’re enemy number one. I liked that place.”

Maksim eyes them thoughtfully. They had met to talk work, and he doubts their grumbling is really an invitation to discuss the pub… but he’s feeling slightly emboldened, perhaps by the fact that he’s not used to seeing Ilya visibly off their game. They might be more willing to get personal if they’re complaining, or they might lock down completely. The only way to know is to pry a little.

“Why bother then?”

It’s another second before Ilya’s attention actually settles on him. “What do you mean?”

Maksim hesitates in turn, taking a moment to better formulate his question. That was an easier hook than he expected and he doesn’t want to waste it. Over Ilya’s head he watches a little cartoon coyote bound across the stall’s holographic sign, skid and tumble to a stop. “It’s been months,” he starts, dropping his gaze back down to his partner. “I’ve got an idea of your methods by now but I don’t get it. You’re already a runner, you get paid to start fights, so why do it in your free time too? Why go out of your way for it?” It’s a genuine curiosity, he’s not sure he’s ever met anyone so perpetually spoiling for a confrontation, although he has his doubts that such an upfront question will get him an honest answer.

“I could ask you the same question,” Ilya volleys back. “That whole SINner charade, you do realize you don’t have to hang around those people when you’re not a face, right?” Those people. The contempt practically radiates off their words, daring Maksim to defend himself and his associations.

“I don’t like shadowrunners,” he replies with a shrug, unfazed. He pauses to pluck a fry from the basket, chews it pensively for a beat before wrinkling his nose. Saltier than he had hoped. Then he adds, “not your best deflection tactic.”

Ilya snorts, selects and eats several fries from the basket in one mouthful. Then they hook their boot around the leg of an empty chair from the neighboring table, drag it closer, and kick their feet up onto the seat. “Alright fine… you want the long version, the short version… or the fun version?” They offer up the last option with a grin and an arched eyebrow, as if to promise it will, indeed, be fun.

Maksim just allows the conversation to hang for a second as he considers them. Locked down it is, then, he concludes. But now he just wants to pry for the sake of it. “How about the truth?”

The grin falls from Ilya’s face. “Do you get how deflection works?” they scoff, failing to hide what Maksim suspects is a flicker of genuine annoyance. He picks at the fries again but lets the hint of a smirk slip through his own facade as he glances back up at them, feeling a little more satisfied by their reaction than he probably should. Ilya blinks, and the expression that overtakes them then is decidedly harder to read. “You’re fucking with me.” They sound like they can hardly believe it.

“I’m just asking questions,” Maksim insists, popping another fry into his mouth. The flavor is worse than the first one and he internally admits defeat, nudging the basket closer to Ilya as he continues, “but obviously of the options provided I need to hear the fun version.”

[missingsleep]

Take a Break.

[Nikolai/Price] [OneChapter]

Link:

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Price was irritated and beyond stressed out. He was going a million miles a minute trying to do like four different things at once. It was wearing him out.

He was trying to focus on finishing his paperwork so he could get something out of the way. But his mind was completely elsewhere. He couldn’t even focus on reading the sentences properly or even formulate a response to it.

He heard a knock at his office door and audibly sighed. He just assumed it was another problem waiting to bother him. “Come in.”

Except it wasn’t. Nikolai peeked inside the room before he opened the door all the way and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe.

It seemed like he had something he wanted to say but he held his tongue when he saw Price’s expression. “You seem out of it. You should take a break,” Nikolai offered.

“Nah.. I have to finish this,” Price declined, changing his gaze back down to the paper in front of him.

Price heard Nikolai’s footsteps walk towards his desk but he didn’t exactly register until he saw a hand come down over his paperwork. Price looked up at him and exhaled, “Nik…”

“Let’s take a walk, yeah? Just me n’ you,” Nikolai requested, though it didn’t exactly sound like one. A small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips while he spoke.

Price shook his head at first but then he really thought about it. He had been working for quite a while. His brain definitely needed a refresher as well.. Maybe a walk would help clear his mind.

In one swift motion, he set down his pen and got up to his feet. He looked at Nikolai and he could see the smile spread across his face. A certain feeling made Price’s heart flip.

Though, he swallowed it down and attempted to hide it with a cough.

The both of them made it out to one of the paths around the back of the base. Their surroundings looked like it was painted with an overcast of dark fog. The only light that showed through came from the moon. It was hard to see further than 6 feet in front of them.

When they walked near the military housing, Price quickly got a lantern and they were able to see each other along with the area around them. It was pretty creepy but nothing the two couldn’t handle.

However… Price was slightly paranoid. Being in the dark meant they couldn’t see everything around them. It was just… darkness, obviously. Even despite the fact they were within the base walls. He knew for a fact they were completely guarded. He couldn’t help it though. Maybe it was the exhaustion getting to him. He really needed some sleep.

They walked for quite some time. Neither of them uttered a word to the other.

Well… that was until Nikolai spoke up, “Everything going okay, captain?”

“It’s goin’,” Came Price’s very vague answer. He didn’t wanna bother Nik with all of his bullshit so he decided to keep to himself for now.

Nikolai didn’t seem too fazed by that response since he didn’t push any further. Price couldn’t tell if he was relieved or disappointed by that, though.

Price’s body flinched slightly when he felt Nikolai’s hand rest on his shoulder. It had been a while since he had gotten physical touch like this… even if it was only something as simple as this.

It actually made Price turn his head to look at Nikolai with a confused expression.

But he didn’t say anything so Price brushed it off. Well, that was before Nik put his entire arm over his shoulders and continued to walk together.

Price was still a little confused, eying him as if to take every little bit of information out of him through his facial expressions.

“Sure you’re okay?” Nikolai questioned after a few seconds.

Ah, that's what this was.

Price chuckled, shaking his head slightly, “Worried about me?”

“Yeah you’re fine.” Nik sighed, rolling his eyes.

Price snorted in response.

It went back to being quiet. It wasn’t awkward. In actuality, it was quite nice. Calming even.

He was trying to ignore the arm around his shoulder. It made him giddy every time he thought about it. He really needed to pull himself together.

It wasn’t long before they made it back to the military housing and the arm was removed, though.

“Heading to bed?” Price asked quickly as he turned to face him. He damn near averted his eyes as soon as they met with Nikolai’s gaze…

If looks could kill, shit, Price would be a dead man.

The way he looked at him was fucking everything….

Price had to swallow hard so he would refrain from doing anything rash.

Nikolai nodded, “Yeah. I suppose it’s about that time. You get some as well.”

Price simply nodded at first, not wanting to indulge in any of his fantasies right now. However…, both his mouth and hand seemed like they were actively working against him.

He grabbed Nik by the wrist. He blurted, “Nik, wait.” He was so fucking embarrassed but shit! Now he had to go with it.

Price didn’t even plan how he would confess. He’s thought about it before but this was an impulsive decision. He wasn’t exactly in the right mind of thinking.

“I expect a date, yeah?” Fucking terrible way to reveal what he was actually thinking but he assumed Nik got the message from his surprised reaction.

Nikolai stiffened. He turned his entire body to face Price. He was looking deep into Price’s expression. He was waiting for him to start laughing and say it was a joke.

But that never came.

“Didn’t think you liked me that much…” Nikolai said playfully but then switched to a more serious tone afterwards, “Meet me tomorrow after recruit training.”

This is not at all how Price thought this would go. He watched as Nikolai walked into his own housing unit. Price couldn’t move for a solid minute. He was processing because what the actual fuck just happened. Did he actually just do that? That meant he had a date, right?

Regardless, he pulled his mind into the right state and walked back to the main base. He needed to finish his paperwork. He had a feeling his mind would be even more side track than before… he’ll manage.

[husbandohunter]

Hello may I request albedo x shy reader where albedo and reader has feelings for each other but reader is too introverted to do anything and albedo doesn't want to tell as he thinks he scares her as reader always gets red and is stuttering when he talks to her. Klee finds out about this and makes it her mission to get albedo and reader together.

Klee gets albedo to play hide and seek with her and invites reader to play together with her. Albedo is counting down while klee and reader hides. Klee and reader hides in a location that klee always hides in so albedo would find them quickly. While they're hiding where albedo is within hearing distance, klee ask reader about whether she has feelings for albedo or not. Reader then admits to having feelings for albedo and makes klee promise not to to tell him. Albedo having heard all this comes behind reader and says why not, proceeds to bring reader to a private location and tells reader his feelings.

If this is too detailed a shy reader x albedo headcanon is enough.

I Found You [Albedo x Shy!Reader]

Synopsis: For someone as meek and reserved as you, love with Albedo was a game of hide and seek...literally!

Genres: Fluff

(A/n): Ahhh what a cute idea, don’t be afraid to be detailed at all! I love hearing people’s ideas. Buuut kinda went overboard with this one since I am in the narrative mood, hope you don’t mind >//< Word count_2.3k

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Albedo wonders if he had done something wrong?

Three weeks, four days, sixteen minutes and twenty five seconds. To this moment he had counted down every tick of the clock since the day you began avoiding him. That's how he sees it at least. You weren't always deliberately doing this on purpose, as Lisa's personal helper, there were times when you were given a chance to converse with the Chief Alchemist after dropping off the books he requested for research purposes. Albedo would ask how your day went, trying to find out if you wanted to take a short break and drink some of the tea Noelle had prepared for him. Your response was a modest one but he didn't mind, he eventually came to enjoy your tranquil prescence after a long day of work. 

But something changed. Those moments where you came in during your free time have gradually faded to nothing more than swift bows and small greets coming from the door. Every attempt he made to invite you for another tea session you left as quickly as you entered. At first he dismissed these moments, thinking that you were probably too busy with no time to stop by. Albedo was a busy person himself, though, that didn't prevent him from noticing your odd behaviour whenever he saw you in the hallway. Just as he was about to call your name, you avert your eyes and take a sharp turn until you were out of sight, leaving him perplexed and alone. The alchemist couldn't help feel neglected. Compared to everyone else, he was the only one you couldn't approach with ease. It bothered him immensely.

Did he accidentally say something to upset you? Albedo was well aware of his straightforward attitude which might have caused a negative affect on your contrasting, rather delicate personality. But he always felt that he had taken great consideration on how to approach you. Or what if it was the time when he happened to eat the last bite of Noelle's shortcakes? Remembering the afternoon you sat in his office, he recalls that there were exactly five instead of four treats left on the plate. Little by little, they began to disappear, you only ate two while he devoured three. Was this the reason why? No, that can't be it. You were the one who offered and refusing would only be impolite. Unless you felt pressured to do so when he told you that he was very fond of sweets….

Albedo heaves his shoulders and lets out a breathly sigh. He became very melancholy since then, staring out the window from the second floor when there were still unread research reports lying on his desk. His mind was so cluttered that he couldn't bring himself to focus these days. How troublesome. If only he were more adept with the ways of socializing, only then he can figure out what triggers you to be so nervous around him, why you tend to shrink when he gazes into your eyes and how is it that he feels so bitter when seeing you act the complete opposite with someone else.

"Big brother?" asked Klee. She hops off her stool before throwing the box of crayons to the side. The young girl prances her way to where Albedo stood and tugs on the hem of his coat, "Is there something wrong? Why are you sad?"

"Klee," Albedo turns his head in reponse. A pair of oversized cherry orbs looks at him with concern while the girl's bangs falls sideways to frame her petite face. He felt the white fabric crinkling within her grip as she signals him to come down. Placing one knee on the floor, Albedo gently smiled, speaking in his soft and brotherly tone, "Don't worry, I'm fine. Have you finished your drawing?"

"Mhm, almost done!" She throws her hands up and cheers, "But can you help me with the backgrounds? Klee doesn't know how to colour them."

"I don't see why not," agreed the alchemist, "Come, I'll teach you."

Just when Albedo was leading Klee back to the little space he set up for her, a knock was heard on the door. He ushers her to stay put and Klee tries to peer over his shoulder to see who the visitor was. When she recognized you standing at the frame, her smile grew wide in excitement.

It's big sister (Y/n)! Did she come here to play with us too? Oh please please please!

"(Y/n), you're here," Albedo couldn't help the apparent surprise on his face, "What brings you? Is there something I can help you with?"

"Ah sorry to bother, I-I have the documents you requested from the library!" You nervously handed him the folder.

Huh? Klee brings a finger to her chin, That's wierd...Why does she look so scared?

"Thank you (Y/n)," Albedo slips them out of your trembling grasp in the same fashion he would handle old relics on the verge of breaking. It was so long since you last visited him and he didn't want to startle you, "I appreciate you for bringing them here."

You shook your head in response, "It's nothing much…"

There it was again. You were avoiding to look at him in the eye. At this rate the next thing to occur would be you taking your leave and he didn't want that. Not when he finally gets the chance to fix his mistakes. Using his calculative mind, Albedo tries to formulate the best approach to soothe your worries. He thought of the first step, something that would make you more comfortable. Perhaps he could try smiling? Yes, that could do it. They always seem to have positive affects.

"(Y/n)."

He calls you. The sound of your name on his lips brings you out of your frenzy state and you subconciously lifted your gaze, daring to take a small peek over his countenance. 

"I'm very glad to see you again, truly."

Oh!

You froze into place. Your brain stops working and the whole world comes to a halt. It was the sight held in front of you that stole every last breath away leaving you with nothing but butterflies fluttering about. They spread their wings, voraciously swarming from the pit of your stomach, desperate to burst along with the pounding of your heart. Never in your life have you witnessed or even fathomed the idea of how Albedo would look if he smiled but here you were, mesmerized and captivated like a butterfly entranced by the flower's glow.  It blooms. So brilliantly that you couldn't stop yourself from being drawn. Eyes you fought so hard to tear away from, sparkled just for you, crinkling from the impact of his evergrowing smile. It was the feeling that made you fall for him. The same feeling that pushes you to run somewhere far far away, knowing if you flew too close, the outcome would risk everything you were trying to protect. 

"(Y/n)?" The alchemist tilts his head in confusion. He noticed the redness seeping into your features and immediately brings a glove hand to press against your forehead, "Your temperature is rising. Are you feeling sick? You should have told me earlier."

"I can't…" 

"Hm? Why not?"

"Ah I just remembered there's something I need to do!" Taking a step back you gave him a stiff bow, "Good luck in your research Sir Albedo!"

Given no chance to reply, Albedo watched you dash away before disappearing around the corners. He could only stare blankly at the empty space in front of him before dropping his arm back to his side, contemplating; where did I go wrong?

"Does that mean (Y/n) doesn't want to play with us?" Klee said dissapointedly.

"…I suppose."

"Big brother?" Upon hearing Albedo sigh, Klee finally figured out what caused him to falter these days. Perhaps not entirely being the small child she was but there were enough clues to let her know that the relationship between you and Albedo was somewhat strained. To Klee, she saw you both as the bestest friends! And it was only natural that friends play together right?

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"Eh? You want me to play hide and seek?"

The Spark knight nods heavily as she grinned up at you, "Uh huh, and with big brother!"

"Klee, don't force her if she doesn't want to, it'll be fine with just the two of us," Albedo scolded lightly and folds his arms over his chest.

She only returns him a pout, "But it's fun with more people!"

"Klee-"

"It's okay Sir Albedo, I don't mind," you chimed in at last. You were just taking a stroll near Starfell Lake after you finished organizing the bookshelves in Lisa's stead (as always, she naps while you worked away). All of a sudden, Klee waves over from the otherside and proceeds to drag you into a friendly game for little kids. You weren't sure why she seemed so desperate but…

"Yay!" While jumping side to side, the girl did a little mini dance while waving her arms in the air, "You're the best (Y/n)!"

It was hard to refuse someone as cute as Klee.

"So for the first round, big brother is going to be the one who counts to twenty while you and I go hide so he can never ever find us," Klee informs enthusiastically. 

"Alright, that shouldn't be a problem," said Albedo.

You followed suit with a giggle, "But considering it's you Albedo, I don't think twenty seconds is enough."

He quirks an eyebrow, shocked from the way you referred to him.

"Ah, I-"

"Let's go!" Klee interrupts which you were thankful for, "And no peeking!"

Turning to face the Statue of Seven, Albedo counts down monotonously while you and Klee scrambled for an ideal hiding place. This was not the first time you indulged in one of her many activities, in the past it had almost become part of your daily routine to assist the alchemist in entertaining his little sister. Even Klee was capable to be the seeker for several rounds and Albedo would lead you to a spot nearby yet discreet, just the right amount of difficulty for her to handle.

He wouldn't think of this area again, would he?"

"Six...five...four..."

Eeek! Better hide.

You hopped into the crevice formed between the mountain rocks and crouched down, huddling your knees together against your chest to blend with the shadows. You let out a soft sigh, pleased that you were able to make it in time.

"Wow big sis, I didn't know you would be here too."

The screech nearly escapes when you were startled by a pair of ruby eyes gleaming at you innocently. Klee signals you to stay quiet and you nodded, bringing down the hand that you used to cover your mouth. From a distance you spotted the chief alchemist shifting his footsteps against the grass, though he was far enough on the otherside to not notice you and Klee together in the same room. You beamed softly. He was purposely holding back.

"Pssst! Big sis?" Klee whisper-shouted, "Are you angry at big brother?"

You returned a curious glance, slightly taken aback by the outlandish statement she made, "No of course not. How could I?"

(If anything, it was the contrary).

"Then why are you always running away from him? You guys used to be really good friends, Klee misses you and big brother misses you that's why...that's why he's always sad when you're gone.

"Oh...I-I had no idea..." feelings of guilt begin to emerge when you realized what your action seemed from a different prespective. You were so caught up with being cautious that it prevented you from seeing how Albedo would react on the recieving end. Without knowing, your true colours began to reveal themselves as you could no longer stand the thought of making Klee (making him) upset, "I'm sorry, I'm just not good with words."

The little girl cocks her head to the side.

"Ever since I was little, I never found it easy to make friends. Until now when I finally became Lisa's assistance, I still can't approach other people and they tend to shy away from me since I am...difficult to hold a conversation with..."

Hugging your knees even closer, a fond expression graces your features, "But Albedo was kind to me. He was patient when I didn't know what to say. Whenever I made a mistake, he would always be there to teach me the correct steps. I have alot to thank him for."

"Huh...?"

"I think it's also on of the reason why I fell for him too. But I will never have the courage to say it. I don't want to ruin the friendship we have so I chose to keep it to myself. Though, I guess it only made things worse. So promise me that you won't say anything okay? I'll apologize to him later."

Klee did not respond. She only stares past your shoulder and you immediately spun around to see Albedo standing at the entrace with an expression equivalently shocked as yours.

"(Y/n)...."

"I...I-" you stammered. The embarassment was so unbearable to the point that tears began to form at the corner of your eyes.

"Wait, don't cry. There's no need to because-"

You thrusted your way past him before he could finish his sentence, sprinting to the distance while yelling, "I'M SORRRYYYYYYYYYYY!"

"Wait!" The alchemist chases shortly after, "Come back!"

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You groaned at the pain throbbing against your skull as you pushed yourself upright. A fallen branch, it was. One you didn't catch before tripping over your steps and tumbling down the hill while landing harshly on the sensitive pad of your elbow. The surroundings seemed unfamiliar to your memory since you never travelled too far from Mondstadt, your vision was filled with nothing but the endless columns of trees and bushes nearby. There were no signs of anyone else within the area.

"I'm lost," you announced in a defeated tone. Something cold taps against the tip of your nose and you realized that the clouds have already gathered over your head, violently spilling the rain down to where you sat. You crawled to a dry space where the tree branches were thick enough to keep the water out. You stayed there, waiting. But waiting for what?

"I can't go back," you meekly say, "I can't see him."

The air was cold and you shiver in response. You hated how much of a coward you could be sometimes. You were always so weak, never having the strength to be courageous for once. Albedo was a beautiful man, he was smart and he was popular, he was everything you're not. There's no way that he'd return your feelings.

However...

"I found you."

Why did he come back?

"Thank goodness you're alright. Are you hurt?" Albedo lowers himself to meet your level. Up close you could see the strands sticking from the side of his golden head and the residues that marred his features. Still, he looked beautiful. Your heart soars from the intense gaze he kept on you, drawing lower until he caught the scrape at the side of your arm. Albedo pulls it forward so that he could examine them at nearer proximity, "Hmm this doesn't look so good. We should head back so I can treat your wounds immediately. Can you stand?"

You nodded. 

"Good. Here, take my hand," he offers his gloved fingers and pulls you up to your feet. You could tell that he was trying to be gentle from the way he adjusted his stance so you wouldn't wobble. Kind. He was so kind.

"Why did you come for me?" You started, "I don't understand."

Albedo frowned. There it was again, the expression he hated. The one where you wouldn't look at him in the eye.

"I just don't want to-"

He didn't even bother with what you wanted to tell him. Instead, Albedo removes his coat almost within an instead and threw it around your shoulders. He wraps you gently, making sure that the rain didn't touch your bare shoulders before bring his arms around your figure and trapping you in his embrace. You could feel his fingers raking against the strands of your hair as your vision was blocked by the star on his neck. A little voice thanked the archons for this particular position, for two reasons in fact. The first being that he wouldn't be able to see your expression, knowing you must've looked as if you ate a bowl of raw Juyeun chilis. The second reason, well, you were simply overjoyed. 

"Do you understand now?" 

Closing your eyes, you succumbed to the grasp of your beloved, "Yes, I do."

"You won't run away?"

His tone was almost a plead. You reassured him by moving your head to the crook of his neck, how foolish for you to assume all this time, "I won't, don't worry."

"Are you sure?"

"I promise."

"Good," Albedo's eyes soften in response as he pulls alway to see your face, "I love you too (Y/n)."

Alas the butterfly and the flower finally united as one. Like nectar, he was sweet. How bold of him. It seems that not only was he able to steal your heart but your first kiss as well.

[be-gay-do-heists]

OKAY finally finished with eliot hand pain hurt/comfort fic, and i couldn’t actually decide whether i preferred it in second or third person POV. this is the version with the third person POV, otherwise nothing is different from the other version !

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Contrary to what the four crazy people he spent his time risking his life for nowadays thought, Eliot didn’t like the pain.

There was nothing cleansing about it, nothing satisfactory. A ringing hit to his jaw didn’t feel like penance. The actual protection aspect was a different story. Standing like a wall between your people and danger, there was nothing that made Eliot’s ribs ache with pleasure like that; a wall didn’t feel, didn’t think, it was just an immutable fact. He was an immutable fact. The problem was that the wall-as-Eliot, or perhaps the Eliot-as-wall, had to become human again sometime after the last man went down and the last dollar bill was stuffed into a duffel. To hurt was human, and not just to hurt but to remember the wound long, long after, for it to live in your knees and wrists and between the vertebrae in your spine. Some days— and this was a product of how long after a job it had been, how hard he had pushed—some days were worse than others. The fact that some days the first sound out of his mouth wasn’t even a groan, but a whine, or worse the half-awake pleading for please please make it stop i’ll do anything just make it stop—

No, Eliot didn’t like the pain.

Comparatively, today was a good day. Today, he could get out of bed. His head and body were blessedly in agreement that it was in his best interests to swing his twinging knees to the side of the mattress, push himself up onto legs that were sore but stable, with arms that shook only slightly. But compared to Eliot’s best days, the ones where except for the old shoulder injury which would never let him forget it and the scar on his hip that put a falter in his giddy-up in all kinds of weather, the days on which except for those he sometimes even forgot the pain, this didn’t hold a candle. Today his hands were so beat and weak that the ache radiated up to his mid-forearm, settled into him all familiar-like and made its home in him.

In the bathroom, Eliot used his wrist to turn on the faucet and stuck his mouth under the water to drink. Holding a cup was off the agenda. His morning routine was interspersed with winces, not unusual for his post-job bathroom adventures, and if it took Eliot longer to shimmy on the sweats he knew he wouldn’t be getting out of today, it made him appreciate the comfort of wearing them a little more.

Going handless was fine until he was face to face with the fridge, and resisting the urge to growl at it, like that would solve anything. Taking a deep breath, he put a hand on the stainless steel handle, testing his grip. A light flex had Eliot drawing it back like the metal had burned him, like someone had snapped a tight clothespin onto each ligament. He took a moment to pace a couple steps, let out a loud but cathartic expletive, and then wedge his hand between the handle and the door so he could open the fridge with his elbow strength. The feeling of triumph behind his collarbone faded quickly as the hitter scanned its contents and realized there was nothing he wanted to eat, or at least nothing he wanted to hold and eat. The thought of grasping a fork brought another growl to his throat, and he slammed the fridge door to stomp to the couch and throw himself down, cradling his hands in his lap.

Eliot knew the drill: in an hour, he would grit his teeth and get to up to try and fumble open his bottle of painkillers, and if he succeeded, he would wait another hour for them to truly kick in so he could handle the tv remote, put on whatever game was on, and vegetate on the couch until further notice. The phone he had left on the nightstand rang loudly, fully audible from the other room, blaring out the chorus to “Macho Man” that Hardison had put as his ringtone and Eliot hadn’t figured out how to get rid of yet. If it was important, whoever it was would call again, so he ignored it. His ire rose when the same noise sang out from the bedroom a couple minutes later, a bit-off groan escaping from his clenched teeth as he levered himself up to get to it as fast as he could, awkwardly accepting the call and maneuvering the phone between his shoulder and ear. “What?”

“Man, we haven’t heard from you since we split yesterday, I thought we were gonna get a beer downstairs last night?”

He rubbed his eyes with his wrist, frustrated that he had forgotten he was supposed to get together with Hardison the night before. Getting home, washing the sweat and blood off, and falling into bed had seemed like the only goal in his mind. “Look, sorry, I’ve been busy. And if this ain’t important, you—“

“Bullshit. Absolute bullshit, you’re using your tough-guy, bullshit voice. And you actually apologized, so something is double wrong.”

Eliot snarled. “I don’t have— Hardison, I don’t know what you’re talking about, just leave me alone.”

“Too late, we’re already at your place.”

Before he could open his mouth, his doorbell rang, drawing a groan from him. If he was correct about who the “we” was, it seemed silly to even ring it. His suspicions were confirmed thirty seconds later as the door clicked open anyways and Parker and Hardison came in, having the decency to at least look slightly sheepish. Eliot had already moved back to the couch, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” he growled.

“Excuse us for being worried about your wellbeing, Mr. Suffer-In-Silence,” Hardison scoffed.

Parker leapt onto the couch cushion next to him. “We thought you might have been captured by ninjas.”

“You would know if I had been captured by ninjas,” Eliot muttered. “It’s a very dis— look, you’ve seen that I’m not kidnapped, it’s our day off, can you please leave and let me rest.”

“You still owe us a hangout from last night!” Parker chirped. “Don’t worry, we won’t stay long.” She vaulted back over the couch to go rummage through his snack cabinets, getting into the granola bin by the sound of it. Eliot made a note to restock it before she came back next.

When he next opened his eyes, Hardison was lightly sitting on his coffee table, looking at the hands still resting in the hitter’s lap. “What’s up with your hands, Eliot?”

Eliot’s first instinct was to deflect. He trusted his team, sure, but this was different. They weren’t supposed to know that he had these days. That he wasn’t invulnerable. “Nothing’s wrong with them, stop sitting on my coffee table.”

“Mhm mhm, sure,” Hardison said. “Go like this for me?” He wiggled his fingers in a “hey sailor” kind of fashion. Before Eliot could tell him just what he thought about that, Parker’s ponytail swung into the side of his face, the thief reaching down to poke one of his hands faster than he could stop her.

By the time Eliot was able to refocus and pull himself back from the whiteout of pain, Parker and Hardison were looking at him with open concern, the hacker leaning back slightly, a little pale. Eliot thought he might have howled; he wasn’t sure. Both his hands were clenched tightly to his chest, wrists together, arms outward, wishbone shaped. He felt just as brittle as one, with their stares on him. He summoned the anger from his throat, the only weapon at his disposal (only half-expecting that it would work, always defenseless when it came to their prodding).

“Can you leave me the hell alone now?”

Hardison looked at him, taking his time formulating his thoughts, but it was Parker who spoke. “Nope.” Eliot turned to her where she was perched on the couch. “You get hurt taking care of us. Now you let us take care of you.”

Eliot looked at Hardison pleadingly, hoping he at least would take pity on him and let him wallow by himself. The hitter wanted to hide like the trap-escaped, half-dead badger whose den he had accidentally put his foot into half a lifetime ago in the Italian Alps, earning him an earful of hissing that scared the shit out of him. He wondered if he seemed as belligerent as that now.

Hardison just shrugged and smiled gently. “Hey, you heard the woman.” He leaned forward slightly, just enough in Eliot’s space to let him feel his warm presence without crowding. “Couldn’t get rid of us if you tried.”

He didn’t want to try, was the thing. It was only that it wasn’t their job to take care of him. It was his to take care of them. They just seemed to be wholly unaware of this.

“You taken anything for those yet?” Hardison asked, pointing at his hands. He hummed at Eliot’s slight head shake. “Thought so. Which ones?”

“White bottle, red pills. Only need a half,” Eliot mumbled, slouching. Parker was already up and heading to the bathroom.

“We need to get something you can actually open when this happens, some kind of spring-loaded catch maybe,” Hardison mused. “Alright, let me see them.” He patted his legs, frowning at Eliot’s growl. “C’mon, none of that. I know they hurt, I’ll be really, really gentle. I won’t even touch without asking.”

Eliot looked him in the eye for the sincerity he already knew would be there, the eagerness to help that (damn him) was one of his favorite traits of Hardison’s. Hesitantly, he extended his hands, rolling his eyes at the hacker scooting forward to offer his knees to rest them on.

“I assume you got antiseptic and ointment on these knuckles already, so totally disregarding those, even though it sucks. Nothing broken?”

“No, just. Aches. Like a son of a bitch. Can’t make a damn fist. Happens sometimes.”

Parker bounded back in, armed with a glass of water and half a pill in her open hand. “So no jobs for a while. Easy, I’ll tell Nate. Open up.” With a scowl, Eliot took the medication from her fingers with his teeth (gently, gently), and let her raise the glass to his lips, nearly choking as she tipped it a little eagerly, and choking for real when Hardison said, “Whoa, woman, let him swallow.”

“It’s not just the last job, Park, it’s jobs two years ago, or five, or ten,” Eliot managed, once he had his breath back. “Part of the package that comes with the lifestyle. It just happens sometimes, don’t matter what schedule we’re on.”

She frowned. “Still. We shouldn’t be doing jobs if you’re hurt. Nate should know that.”

Hardison leaned forward a little more while he was distracted trying to find the right response to that, that they wouldn’t be doing any jobs at all if that were the case, that Nate trusted him to get the job done no matter what, reaching out to his forearm and stopping just a hair’s breadth shy of touching. The hitter froze, and Hardison did too, meeting his eyes. “It’s ok. I’m just trying something out. Is it alright if I touch you here?” At his tiniest of nods, the hacker placed his fingertips on his arm, rubbing circles so lightly that Eliot almost couldn’t feel it. “Let me know where it starts to hurt, okay?” Hardison applied the slightest pressure as he added his other hand and lightly started rubbing down his forearm. When he got to his wrist, Eliot couldn’t help the strangled noise that partly escaped through his nose, high and strained. Hardison moved away from there immediately, going back to tracing soothing, gentle patterns. “You’re ok, you’re ok. I can work with this, no problem. Where do you keep your hot pads, man?”

“Bathroom, lower right drawer,” Eliot grit out. Parker was zipping off to get it and warm it up before he could even process. Hardison applied a little more pressure with his fingertips, rubbing the meat of his forearm. Eliot breathed out long and slow at how good it felt once the initial ache had ebbed.

“I want to try giving you a hand massage, but I don’t wanna hurt you more than it would help,” Hardison said, pausing slightly. “You up for it? I’m not gonna pressure you either way.”

Eliot’s thoughts stuttered, and then bolted in different directions. The feeling that he didn’t deserve this, that this was too much to ask, which had been simmering this whole time leapt to life again. It joined with the wounded, snarling animal part of him that still wanted to hide, burrow down with the covers over his head until his pain faded into the muted background noise of the world. He didn’t even know if a hand massage would work, might make the pain worse.

But it might be nice, a small, hopeful part of him murmured. Eliot couldn’t remember the last time he had been offered something like this, let alone the last time he had taken the person up. If there was anyone he trusted to do it, if there was anyone he wanted to receive it from, it was these two. How could he refuse them even he wasn’t fully on board with what they were suggesting?

“Sure, just…” Eliot said as Parker returned with the hot pad, pausing from tossing it hand to hand like a hot potato to fix her stare on him. He licked his lips, swallowed around a dry throat. “Just be gentle.”

“I will,” Hardison said earnestly, taking the hot pad from Parker to gently maneuver it under Eliot’s hands, resting on his knees. Eliot tensed slightly as the thief leapt up onto the back of the couch, perching above his head, but otherwise relaxed as the warmth of the hot pad started to loosen the ache in his hands. Hardison started where he had before, applying the slightest pressure to the hitter’s forearm. Parker ran her fingertips lightly through his hair, humming.

“Your hair is kinda wonky,” she said, fingers catching on a tangle. Eliot winced.

“That’s what happens when you go to bed without brushing it properly, you know that,” he grumbled, breath hitching as her fingertips grazed his scalp. His breath stuttered again as Hardison’s hands started working towards the sore meat of his wrist. Eliot’s hand began to shake.

“It’s ok baby, I got you,” Hardison murmured under his breath, more soothing sound than words. Eliot cracked open an eye to see him looking between his hands and his phone, playing a video where it was propped on his thigh.

“Man, are you watching hand massage tutorials right now?” he gritted out, doing a poor job of masking his genuine amusement with frustrated disbelief.

The hacker tapped his index finger against Eliot’s arm lightly. “I’ve been watching videos dude; think you’re so slick, tryna hide your hand pain from me. I just wanna make sure I get it right in real time.”

Parker’s fingers running through Eliot’s hair more boldly silenced any follow-up thoughts he had, mind going fuzzy with how good it felt. Without thinking, he insistently pushed his head up further into her touch, making her laugh. The sound reverberated in his chest, leaving him longing to hear it again. Instead a half-whine left his throat as Hardison probed the bottom of Eliot’s palm, the ache drawing him back to full awareness.

The hacker backed off for a moment. “Sorry, sorry. You still cool to keep going?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eliot breathed shakily.

“Just tell me if there’s anyplace else that needs to be handled more delicately, or you don’t want me going at all,” Hardison said, putting his clever hands to Eliot’s again and taking up his gentle, slow pace. Parker’s fingers had paused in his hair a second, but went back to running through it again, scratching his scalp on every other pass.

Slowly, slowly, the vice of pain on Eliot’s hands started to dissipate, bone by bone, finger by finger. He don’t know how long he sat there in a haze, as Hardison and Parker patiently touched him, fixated on the single task of caring for him. The thought made the tender space behind his breastbone twinge. When he surfaced from the half-asleep contentment of their efforts, the television was on, Star Trek playing at the lowest volume. Eliot grunted, lifting his head from the couch to look at the two of them sitting beside him, grinning at his movements. Hardison’s warm hand was still in his, but instead of massaging he was just holding it softly.

“Hey sleepy,” teased Parker, throwing herself over Hardison to get closer and forcing an “Oof!” out of him.

Eliot looked down to his hands, flexing one experimentally, in disbelief at how the ache had faded to an almost imperceptible hum. With the other he tightened his fingers around Hardison’s hand, moving his thumb lightly over his.

“Hey,” Eliot simply said back, a real smile rising to his lips.

[reids-rendering-reality]

Drunk Dials

Summary: Y/N and Penelope are having a fun night off drinking until Penelope has the idea to drunk text the entire team some promiscuous messages and one of them takes up the offer.

(A/N: inspired by this post, written with permission)

Type: lead up to smut (if you guys enjoy this, I might write a smutty part two)

Warnings: alcohol consumption

Word Count: 1.5K

 I quickly sprayed on a little perfume and hurried to the door when I heard the doorbell ring. I opened the door to find Penelope with her typical bright colours, tonight’s were a bright green and purple.

“Hii,” I giggled while hugging her and let her inside, “I see you’ve come prepared.”

And indeed she had: under her arms were two bottles of red wine and her bag made clinking noises from glass as she set it down on my kitchen counter to reveal two more bottles.

“Who else did you invite? We can’t drink all that by ourselves,” I grinned at her. While we did the occasional drinking with the team, my tolerance was in no way capable of the amount of alcohol she had brought.

“Well, the night is young. Watch and learn, my little butterfly,” she responded and carried the first bottle over to the couch. I followed after her, two glasses in my hands and the wine opener tucked under my arm.

And so the night ensued with a lot of laughter and drinks, some dancing and so much gossiping. Halfway into the second bottle I was navigating the fine line between tipsy and drunk while Penelope appeared to be slightly tipsy. How could her tiny body carry so much alcohol?

“Let’s play truth or dare!” she exclaimed, “but if you don’t want to do it, you drink.”

“Oh god, my body will hate me tomorrow,” I complained, but added, “but right now it seems like a great idea.”

“Your body will forgive you because of the fun we’re having tonight. I’ll start. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” I responded, pouring more wine into our glasses.

“Who was the last person you slept with?” she grinned and clinked her glass to mine before taking a sip.

“Starting off strong,” I chuckled and then thought about my answer for a moment, “I think it was that police officer a couple of months ago from that case in Denver. I haven’t had sex in way too long.”

“A couple of months is a pretty long time. Was it that one with the cute little butt? He was the embodiment of ‘sweet cheeks’,” she swooned a little.

“Yes, exactly him. It wasn’t that satisfying though. Although he was good-looking, he was pretty egocentric in bed,” I commented and took another drink from my glass.

“Well, it’s time for your luck to change. You are lucky to have me, your personal oracle and booty call finder. We will find you someone to give you as many orgasms as your little heart desires – or can handle if you’re into that,” Penelope says and raises her glass dramatically.

A couple of truths, dares and a lot of drinks later, we were both shit-faced drunk and laughing on my couch. In front of us was the third bottle, which was now almost empty as we tried to catch our breath.

“Alright, your turn again, darling dearest. Truth or dare, choose wisely,” Penelope says still chuckling and readjusting her seating position.

“Dare. Bring it on,” I said, my words slightly slurred already. Leave it to Penelope to get me as drunk as I last was on my 21st birthday.

“I’ve got a good one, get your phone, baby,” she said setting down her glass. When she saw my quizzical look she continued, “you are going to text everyone on the team-“

Before she could continue I interrupted, “no no no, that sounds like a horrible idea. I am in no position to make any choices right now,” I laughed and swayed slightly.

“I am making the choice for you. You are going to get some action in the sheets and I am going to bring it to you. Your phone will be the arrow that my cupid’s bow will use to shoot you into your next naked bliss.”

“Oh my god, what is your plan?” I fake-groaned, actually being completely entertained by the idea.

“You my dear, are going to text everyone from our team, the simple words, ‘hey you wanna fuck?’ and we’ll see who responds,” she said excitedly.

“Even Rossi and Hotch?”

“Even them. Everyone.”

“Alright, just because it’s you, Pen,” I said and grabbed my phone.

She leaned over my shoulder and watched me as I began texting. I copy-pasted the message to Spencer, Derek, JJ, Emily, Rossi and Hotch. I could hear Penelope giggling the entire time. When I was done, I remembered I could’ve just taken a drink to get out of the dare, but it was too late now.

After a couple of minutes I was still dying of embarrassment of what I had just done, but still laughing with Penelope as my phone lit up for the first time.

We both instantly looked over and I grabbed my phone. My heart was racing. I had never done anything like this before.

JJ: I’m married???

When we read the message we both burst out in laughter. JJ knew that Penelope and I were hanging out today and obviously caught on to what we were doing.

“Let me respond!” she said and I handed my phone to her.

Me: Will doesn’t have to know ;)

“Penelope!” I exclaimed in between laughter.

 A while later almost everyone else on the team had responded:

Rossi: Sorry to disappoint you, kid, but you’re not in my age range for wife number four. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to complete the job.

Derek: I thought you’d never ask.

Emily: I’m down anytime.

Hotch: I’m sure this was meant for someone else. If not: I’m your boss??

 Penelope and I continued the night with laughter over the texts and other stupid drunk dares until it was about 4am. Spencer still hadn’t responded. I was slightly disappointed as I had taken a liking towards the doctor since my time at the BAU.

“I can’t believe Spencer didn’t respond. I thought for sure that he’s got a crush on you,” Penelope said while trying to put on her heels at the door.

“I don’t know about that, but drunk me wants him to respond to my booty call.”

“Honey, I’m sure that’s not just drunk you,” she said with a grin.

We hugged each other goodbye and she began swaying down the hallway to her cab waiting outside.

I got ready for bed and drank a glass of water. All the while still no response. Assuming that he’d read the message but just ignored it and went to bed, I did the same. From the beginning of my time at the BAU I had that crush on Spencer, but I guess it wasn’t mutual.

The next morning I woke up with a huge headache as expected. I sighed and checked my phone. Still no response. I made myself a coffee and got dressed to go into work as slowly as possible. After those drunk texts I did not want to see anyone today.

 I was the last to arrive at the bullpen that day. My headache had lifted and I was fit enough to survive a typical paperwork day. But the embarrassment had stayed. What was I thinking, texting everyone to hook up with me? I wasn’t thinking, that’s it.

To my surprise, no one commented on it. They probably all understood that it was just a drunken game because Penelope and I had been talking about our meet up yesterday. To say I was relieved was an understatement. But Spencer was different from his usual behaviour around me. His head was stuck in a book the entire day – he didn’t look at me once.

That changed however, when I was making myself a coffee at lunch. Pouring some into a cup I almost jumped at the sound of Spencer’s voice.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said casually and walked up to me, mug in hand.

“Hi, Spence,” I responded quietly and added some milk. I looked up at him briefly to find his eyes focused intently on pouring the liquid.

Just as I was about to leave for my desk, he spoke up again.

“About your text from last night,” he began to say. I felt my cheeks heat up and turned back around to him.

“Yes?” I forced myself to look at him, just to see him even more blushed than I was.

“Was that for me? I mean, I would very well understand if it was an accident and it was meant for someone else. It surprised me to say the least.”

Deciding to take my chance, I said, “no, it was meant for you.”

“And are you serious about it?” he looked back down at his mug.

I took a step closer to him, “am I serious about fucking you?”

Upon hearing those words, his eyes shot up towards mine and he gulped. He looked almost as though he feared my response as he nodded.

“Yes.”

I saw his mouth open and close, obviously trying to formulate a response but not finding one.

“Um, I don’t really know how to say this, but um- I’d like that.”

[chefdoeuvre]

Personal Growth

Kelly Severide

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Fem!Reader

Description: This is what we call personal growth.

Words: 1,012

Requested: yes by anonymous; Can you write a Kelly X reader in which she is afraid of fire due to past experience and she is taking really hard to date someone with a job that scares her

Warnings: mention of fires (self explanatory), fluff as per usual, angst (if you blink you'll miss it).

A/N: Kelly Severide, that's it. This is basically just my poetic ramblings. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors.

—

After losing some of your family in a fire it was safe to say you were borderline terrified of fires. Scratch that, you were and still are terrified of fires. Dating someone who's day to day job was going into fires scared the life out of you. Yet here you were, dating Kelly Severide, Squad lieutenant and basically a token reckless firefighter. Yeah, you didn't see that coming since the moment it happened. Of course, he makes you unbelievably happy, like all the giddiness and butterflies you could have ever imagined. Granted Kelly didn't know of your dilemma, which is why you're currently at a crossroads with him wanting you to finally meet his coworkers and family. It's not that you don't want to, it's that if you cement yourself into his life that'll give you all the more heartache if something were to ever happen to him while doing his firefighter duties.

They were far from commitment issues, it's just that with a job like his you don't want to put yourself through that type of loss again. Not after all the heartache, you suffered through the first and what you hoped to be the last time. So here you were, sitting on Kelly's couch with the Blackhawks playing on the television in the background while you overthought anything and everything about this relationship. Kelly was in his kitchen grabbing the two of you something to drink when he came back and saw the faraway look in your eyes. Placing the two drinks down on the table he took a seat beside you.

"Y/N? You all right?" Kelly questioned softly.

Snapping your head at the sudden voice of your boyfriend you looked at him, "huh? Yeah, I'm fine." You dismissed his worry.

"You sure? You were just staring off into space a second ago." Kelly tilted his head in concern.

You leaned back into the couch with a sigh. Leaning your head back you closed your eyes and thought over how you were supposed to tell him. You can't just say 'oh, hey. I suffered some trauma when I was young and now I'm terrified that I'm gonna lose you the same exact way.' if you did you're sure he'd go running for the hills.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" Kelly furrowed his brows, placing a warm hand on your cheek eliciting you to open your eyes and look at him.

Taking in a deep breath you decided to just come out and say it, what's the worst that could happen? Actually, disregard that last statement it could go horribly wrong. Throughout your entire explanation outlining your thoughts and fears, Kelly listened intently. His attention was solely on you and trying to figure out what was troubling you. By the end of your so-called rant, you were out of breath.

"So are you gonna say anything?" You asked scared of what his reply would be.

His cobalt eyes softened as he took in your fearful expression. The hand still cupping your jaw began caressing your cheek softly.

“You know, you could’ve told me. I’m not going to laugh at your feelings.” Kelly spoke softly, shaking his head, “your fears are not irrelevant either.”

To say the least you were slightly taken aback by how kind he was being. In reality, you shouldn’t be surprised, this was Kelly, the guy who’d spent the last few years of his life becoming a better person before eventually meeting you and stealing your heart.

“So you’re not gonna break up with me?” You leaned into his hand.

“Why would I, you know how long it took me to get over myself and finally ask you out on a date?” Kelly chuckled at the distant memory that felt like it happened yesterday.

You let out a giggle at the picture in your mind of the suave Kelly you know as a blubbering, awkward mess trying to formulate a plan to ask you out.

“There’s that pretty smile.” Kelly grinned widely as you smiled bashfully. You felt your cheeks heat up at the insinuation.

“Next time you’re worried just talk to me. I’m not just here for arm candy you know.” Kelly teased with a smirk.

“Way to ruin the moment, Romeo.” You shoved him playfully with a laugh. He held the place on his chest where you shoved him in mock hurt.

“Hey, if it gets you to laugh I’m all for it.” Kelly shrugged while you looked at him with a flat look.

“Fine, fine. Just know you can talk to me. I’ll try my best to keep you posted and reassured, even if it means having to make fun of myself.” Kelly feigned a pout and held his hands up in play surrender.

“You’re unbelievable.” You rolled your eyes before leaning forward into his chest with a laugh.

“Anything for you.” Kelly smiled before placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“I’d hope so, after that heartfelt speech and all.” You scoffed playfully and he pulled you onto his lap before wrapping his arms around your waist tightly. You let out a yelp at the sudden movement before relaxing into his arms.

“I’m not going anywhere and if I have anything to do with it you’re not leaving this apartment tonight.” Kelly squeezed your hips with a loving smile.

“So Blackhawks and beer all night?” You asked with a raised brow and a wide grin.

“Of course, how else would I keep you entertained for so long?” Kelly joked as you dropped your head onto his shoulder with a laugh.

The two of you remained in each other’s grasp the whole night, playfully teasing and watching the game being played on the television. It was safe to say you and Kelly were head over heels for each other given the fact the two of you would burst out into random bouts of laughter throughout the entirety of the night. Yes, you were still scared but now with Kelly’s reassurance and knowledge about your feelings, it made you feel a bit better.

[firstofficerwiggles]

Chapter 4: A Rather Indecent Proposal

Links to other chapters: Chpt. 1, Chpt. 2, Chpt. 3 Chpt. 5

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: T

Warnings: Jealous!Din, a little bit of canonical violence

Word Count: ~9900 (I know it’s long, but it felt better as one chapter instead of split into two.)

Author’s note: Happy Mando Monday! I hope you enjoy this new chapter! First though, I need to apologize if the man you love or you yourself are called Eugene, but please don’t hate me for thinking it’s an unsexy name. Also, apologies to skinny men everywhere, you might not be my type, but I’m sure someone is into you.

“Do you think you could come with me for a business meeting? I could use your language skills.” Mando surprises you with his request. So far, he’s always conducted any business on his own, and except for a few weeks ago when you asked him about his bounty, he hasn’t shared any details of his work with you. But as always, you’re eager to help him if you can.

“Of course, I can. What do you need?” You’re actually kind of excited at the chance to accompany him.

“The client comes from the Unknown Regions and I hear he prefers to use Sy Bisti when possible,” Mando explains, “He’s also known to be very particular, so anything that can impress him would be helpful.”

“Absolutely, I can be your interpreter,” you agree, “When is this meeting?”

“As soon as we get to Canto Bight in a couple of hours.” He tells you. Oh, you look down at your lounging-on-the-ship comfy clothes; you’ll need to get yourself pulled together for a business meeting.  

“I better go get changed into something more presentable then. Can you watch the little guy?” You ask him.

“Why? You look fine.” Mando is such a guy sometimes. You just give him an incredulous look with a small raise of your eyebrow as if to say really? “I mean, sure, I’ll watch the kid if you want to change.”

“Thanks. But, yes, I definitely need to change before we meet your client,” you reply and head down to the hull; you’re almost out of earshot when you hear him mutter to the child, “Don’t get it, she always looks fine to me.” It makes you smile to yourself that he thinks that, yet there’s a part of you that’s eager for him to see you dressed a little nicer for once.

For about the millionth time you tell yourself that you shouldn’t have a crush on Mando, but that voice is getting drowned out more and more by another one that keeps telling you to enjoy it. After your trip to Crucival, you know that he finds you attractive at least. And Maker knows you’re even more attracted to him now that you know him even better. Plus seeing him almost naked was hard to ignore! So what if he considers you just a friend, as long as you don’t let things get out of hand, or say something stupid to him, you might as well have fun with your silly little fantasies.

You rummage through your clothing and pull out a nice black dress. It’s stylish but without being too fussy and you think, it will be perfect for a meeting with a client. Besides, if you’re going to Canto Bight, you know most of the women there will be dressed to the nines so you want to make sure you’re helping Mando give off a good impression. You take the time to style your hair and put on some make-up too. You give yourself a once-over in the small mirror in the fresher and, even in the harsh industrial light, you have to say that you look pretty nice. You knew that being a nanny to a toddler was never going to be a glamorous job, but the chance to clean up like this is fun every once in a while.

“We’re landing soon, you need to come sit down!” You hear Mando calling to you, so you quickly make your way back up to the cockpit.

“Thanks,” you say as you get back to your seat, but before you sit down, you turn to Mando with a little flourish and say, “See, much more presentable for your client now.”

Din stares at you in the elegant dress; you’re literally taking his breath away and he can’t even speak for a few seconds. Finally all he can think to say is, “You look good.” And he immediately chides himself for not being able to come up with a better compliment. Thankfully, you seem pleased with his pathetic words and just give him a happy smile before buckling yourself in. He’s still staring at you, taking in the pretty hairstyle you’ve created and looking at whatever it is that you’ve done to make your lips seem redder and fuller. It isn’t until a sensor on the control panel starts beeping loudly that Din snaps back to reality and focuses on landing the Crest.

“Wait, what about the child, do we bring him with us?” In your excitement, you’ve forgotten your primary job, as you’re getting ready to head out into the hustle and bustle of this flashy city. You look at the little one’s big eyes and like his father, he also seems to be fascinated with your done-up appearance.

“Sure, I have a satchel he can ride along in. And he’s plenty old enough to get into the casino; the age to get in is 18.” Mando chuckles as he maneuvers his 50-year-old toddler into a small brown shoulder bag. Mando’s cape partially obscures the little one making him less noticeable. You suppose he’ll be all right, it’s only a meeting in the restaurant of a casino; it’s not as if you’re taking the little one to the gaming tables. Although if you’re honest, you wouldn’t be surprised if Mando said that was perfectly ok too, so long as he’s safe. You give his tiny hand a squeeze and he coos back at you seemingly eager for your little adventure.

You follow Mando off the ship and through the throngs of men in sharply tailored evening jackets and women beautifully attired in chic gowns. Everyone looks very cosmopolitan especially against the stunning background of the decadent casino. You have to admit that you were expecting something a little more garish based on the descriptions you’ve heard of Canto Bight, but this particular establishment is quite nice with marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and unique modern art pieces strategically placed throughout the large lobby. With Mando in his beautiful beskar armor and you in your fashionable dress, you make a dashing pair as you pass by the colorful lights of the gaming machines.

Din leads you to a restaurant entrance and tells the maître d’ that he is here to meet a Mr. Omseki. The man seems slightly taken aback by the presence of a Mandalorian but when his gaze lands on you, his face softens and in a crisp accent he says, “Right this way, Madam” and then he barely glances at Din, as he says, “Sir”. It’s not surprising that the man would rather keep his eyes on you with your eyes shining in delight as you take in the scene around you. Din’s never cared much for Canto Bight and its rather pompous atmosphere, but he’s finding some charm in this place as he watches your reaction to it all. Not to mention, Din knows he would have received a much frostier welcome here without you by his side and he’s very glad you came with him. As you reach the client’s table, this feeling is renewed, as Mr. Omseki is all smiles as you greet him in the unusual language. Despite not understanding the words, Din can tell by the man’s animated speech, that he is positively delighted at the prospect of meeting with a beautiful woman and not just a Mandalorian bounty hunter. The man also seems happy to see the child and he gives him the flower from his lapel to play with as a small gift. Din listens as you interpret the client’s words and you all begin to exchange some welcoming small talk. Greef Karga had been the one to pass on this client to Din as a lucrative off-the-books bounty, but the man he described was temperamental and moody. Mr. Omseki is anything but moody tonight and if Din didn’t know better, he’d swear the man was flirting with you. He doesn’t love that idea, but if it helps this meeting go smoothly, it will be worth it.

Mr. Omseki is a charmer and he is thrilled to be speaking to you; he’s told you several times how pleasant it is to talk business in an ‘appropriate’ language and how overjoyed he is to speak to you. You suppose it must have been a while since he’s had the opportunity to speak Sy Bisti and perhaps that’s why he’s enjoying himself so much now. You’ve felt a little abashed at times, as you’ve interpreted his rather flowery praise of you to Mando although at least some of it has also extended to him. However, this client seems more interested in just chatting with you than he is in talking business with Mando. You try to steer the conversation back to Mando’s work, but each time you do, Mr. Omseki manages to ask you another question about yourself. Mando must sense your worry that you aren’t doing a good enough job and he drops his hand down to cover yours where it is sitting on the table. He gives you a reassuring squeeze and you continue making polite conversation with the client. You figure this must be part of his business negotiations.

Din leaves his hand covering yours in a clear message to the client that you belong with him. It’s a subtle gesture, but one that Mr. Omseki is shrewd enough to understand as shortly afterwards he shifts the conversation to the bounty that he wants Din to capture. He listens carefully as you interpret the details and he begins to formulate a plan for the hunt. Din almost has all the pertinent information, when a sudden commotion interrupts the conversation. He immediately pulls his blaster and shields you behind him. A man in a disheveled suit is pushing past the maître d’ and several waiters as he stumbles towards your table. Din realizes disappointedly that this man looks exactly like the quarry that was just described by Mr. Omseki.

“Mr. O-Omseki, I have it, I have all your m-money and the in-interest,” the man stutters out as he begins pulling out bags of credits from his coat.

“Well, well, Mr. Sanditore, looks like this is your lucky day,” Mr. Omseki drawls out, “I was just about to send this Mandalorian off to kill you.”

“Th- thank you Mr. Omseki, thank you, I promise you won’t have any trouble from me again.” The disheveled man is practically shaking with gratitude.

“Well, I am sorry Mr. Mandalorian, it was delightful to meet you and your most lovely interpreter, but I am afraid I no longer have need of your services.” Mr. Omseki says to Din. Then he turns to you and speaks in Sy Bisti in a soft voice. Din obviously can’t know what he’s saying but the mild look of surprise on your face is enough to raise his concern. Whatever it is though, you handle it gracefully and end the conversation with a pleasant tone before shifting back to Basic to say good-bye. As you exit the table, you reach for Din’s arm, threading your hand around his elbow. He is surprised by your touch but says nothing as you walk towards the large bar near the center of the restaurant.

“What did he say to you?” Din wants to know.

“He asked me if we were romantically involved, because if we weren’t he wanted to know if I was free for the rest of the evening.” You reply looking a little embarrassed.

“What did you tell him?” He really wants to hear this answer.

“I lied and said that we were. It seemed like the best solution.” You’re slightly looking away from him as you say this as if you’re worried about making eye contact.

“Good.” Din’s pleased you lied, and it’s petty, but he likes the idea of that rich man thinking that Din has something that he wants and can’t have.

“I’m sorry about the job though,” you’re saying to him now, “I know you must be disappointed.”

“It’s alright,” Din sighs a little though, “these things happen.” He sees you look around the bar area with a wistful look and realizes that you’re not ready to leave. “Besides, now we have time to stay and have a drink, just the two of us, well, us and our little sleeping bundle here.” The baby has curled up and is napping in his little satchel.

“Really?” You look so pleased that it makes Din smile to himself. You settle into one of the stools at the bar and Din motions to the bartender to order your drinks. He orders one for himself too, asking for a straw in his.

“Wait, so you do use straws?” You ask with a small laugh.

“Sure, it’s the easiest way to drink in public.” He shrugs matter-of-factly, but that just seems to make you giggle more. “What’s so funny?”

“I don’t know,” you say between giggles, “but there’s something so cute about you using a straw.”

“Cute?” He says, sounding slightly insulted.

“Oh stop, I mean it in a good way,” you say and light push his shoulder in a playful fashion, “It’s probably just because I’ve never seen you use a straw before.”

“So when you see me do something new, it’s cute to you?” Din is playing up his affront to the word cute because he’s enjoying teasing you.

“No, not everything new.” You roll your eyes at him. “It’s just when you do something ordinary, I guess, because I tend to think of you as extraordinary.” You let your lashes flutter a little as you say that last word, flirting with him.

“Extraordinary, huh?” He cocks his helmet to the side as he looks at you, “I like that better than cute.”

“Whatever, you’re still cute too.” You give him a wink and then turn to the bartender who has your drinks. Both glasses have a straw and you make quite a show of using yours, so much so that Din can’t help but let out a laugh. You’re both enjoying the moment so much that neither of you notice a thin, lanky man approach you.

“Ex-excuse me?” The man is trying to get your attention. Mando shifts back into alert mode almost instantly as he says, “Yes?”

The man is about as tall as Mando with very fair hair and pale skin. He looks to be in his mid-thirties and seems a little out of place here in a casino. Although, like the other men here, he’s wearing an expensive suit, but everything about him looks slightly uncomfortable and it’s as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with his body, like the way he holds his shoulders and moves his hands looks anxious.

“I’d like to hire you for an evening,” the man says, but weirdly he looks at you instead of Mando, but you figure that’s because he’s probably too intimidated to look directly at the Mandalorian.

“What sort of work do you need?” Mando asks in an even tone.

“Oh?” The man turns and looks at Mando directly, “I- I didn’t mean you. I want to hire her for an evening.”

Mando’s reaction to this statement is so swift you almost miss it. He instantly pulls his fist back and punches the man square in the face, knocking him to the floor. Mando looks down at him and grits out in an angry voice, “She’s not for sale.”

Well, this is a first. You thought you looked pretty nice tonight, but apparently, you look like a prostitute.

“Wait, wait, I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” The man cowers on the ground but tries to explain himself, “I didn’t mean to insult her, or you.”

“So what did you mean?” Your curiosity has gotten the best of you.

“I just need a beautiful woman to pretend to be my girlfriend for an evening, that’s all.” He says.

“Exactly how is that different?” Mando is still towering over the man in a very threatening manner.

“Just to attend a party with me, and help me look good,” the man says quickly, “I promise nothing s-sex related at all.” He holds his hands up in a defensive posture. He looks back to you with pleading eyes, “I can pay you really well, and all you need to do is go to a party and wear a pretty dress.”

You admit you’re intrigued by the idea and you know that with Mando losing out on this latest bounty, any extra funds would be helpful. You put your hand on Mando’s bicep in what you hope is a calming motion as you say, “It can’t hurt to hear him out, Mando.”

“Are you serious?” Mando asks you in a low voice.

You shrug, “If we don’t like what he has to say, you can punch him again.” The man on the floor lets out a little whimper at that, but Mando gives you a small nod and backs away from the man.

Tentatively, the man picks himself up off the floor and extends a hand out to you, “I’m Eugene DeWitt, I own a company that creates high-end gaming machines and I develop algorithms for those machines.”

You shake his hand briefly, and give him your first name. “So, Mr. DeWitt, why do you need a pretend girlfriend to go to a party?”

“Please, call me Eugene. It’s the annual celebration for the casino owners and it’s my best chance to network with them. I’ve been to the party the last three years, but I haven’t been able to barely get a word with any of the important owners.” He explains.

“What makes you think I’d be able to change that?” You’re not sure what effect your presence would have on his ability to do business.

“I need to find a way to catch their interest and impress them, and I think a woman like you would be the best way to do that.” He tells you.

“I’m flattered, but I think you might be overestimating my appeal,” you reply, “besides, why don’t you just ask out a woman you want to date?”

“I’ve tried,” Eugene admits, “but honestly, even if they’d said yes, I know they wouldn’t have the same effect as you; you’re drop dead gorgeous.”

“He’s right,” Mando says softly, almost under his breath. Your head snaps to the side to look at him after that comment. You don’t have any time to process it however because Eugene is still speaking.

“I’ll pay you 20,000 credits just to go to the party with me and pretend to be my girlfriend.” He offers.

What?!? Is he serious? Suddenly this job has real potential. But you’re still skeptical that he wants you to just attend the party, it feels like that amount of money would come with additional stipulations.

“Let me get this straight, you want me to just go to the party with you and pretend to be your girlfriend, but you’re not expecting sex or any other sexual favors?” You state this outright because you need everything to be clear.

“Yes,” he confirms, “I would need you to be affectionate towards me, but only in an appropriate way in public.”

“Define what you mean by affectionate.” You want to make sure you know precisely what he wants.

“Hold my hand or arm, let me put my arm around you, dance with me, maybe let me give you a small kiss?” He suggests.

“No kissing.” Mando interjects all of a sudden.

“O-Ok, no kissing,” Eugene agrees, “But would you be alright with the rest of that?”

“Yes, I can do that.” His terms seem reasonable and honestly, that much money to just attend a party? You’ve had way worse jobs.

“I’m going too,” Mando states and from his tone of voice this is not up for debate, “I’ll be your bodyguard for the evening.”

“That’s a good idea,” Eugene is intrigued by the prospect; “A Mandalorian bodyguard would also be impressive.”

“Good, then you can pay us 40,000 credits for the evening,” you counter-offer. You know it’s ballsy to ask, but truthfully Mando’s skills are worth a lot and he should be paid as well.

“That was uh more than I was hoping to spend,” Eugene says.

“Maybe so, but now you’re getting both of us to help you impress these future clients,” you smile flirtatiously and look him right in the eye holding his gaze.

“I can do 35,000,” Eugene offers.

“Alright, 35,000 and you buy me a new dress and shoes for this party.” That last part is really only because you don’t own any other dresses that would be suitable for his event, but also part of you wants to see if you can get him to give in to you.

“Can the dress be red?” Eugene asks.

“Sure, I’ll get a red dress, if that’s what you’d like,” You’re totally fine with that.

“We have a deal.” He says.

“One more thing,” Mando speaks up again, “Pay her half the credits now.”

“How do I know you won’t just take my money and leave?” Eugene asks.

“You have my word as a Mandalorian.” His tone is serious and just intimidating enough that Eugene capitulates. He takes out a holopad and asks for your information and just like that, 17,500 credits are in your account. It’s more money than you’ve ever had.

You finalize all the arrangements for tomorrow, with Eugene offering to have his mother watch the child for the evening. Mando is a bit reluctant at first to have someone else watch the kid but he realizes it will be hard to pull off looking like a bodyguard with a baby in tow. Likewise, you can hardly play the role of trophy girlfriend if you have the little guy. You wait until Eugene takes his leave of you for the night before you turn to Mando to exclaim over this crazy turn of events.

“Oh my, Mando, can you believe it? 17,500 credits for each of us, just for one night of going to a party?” You can’t help the excitement in your voice.

“Hmm, yes, it’s a lot,” he says, with a lot less enthusiasm, “but it’s all your money.”

“What?” He catches you by surprise, “No, Mando, I’m going to split it with you.”

“He only wanted to hire you,” he states firmly.

“Yes, but I was never going to do this without you. I was going to suggest you come too but you beat me to it.” You explain to him.

“Were you really?” He sounds a little skeptical, but there’s a small note of hope in his voice too.

“Absolutely. I’m not so naïve that I would agree to go to a party with a total stranger without you there to protect me.” It feels so natural to you now that of course he would be there to watch over you. “Besides, I know that you being there will keep Eugene from getting too handsy.”

Mando makes a little snorting sound, “Yeah, I could do without the affectionate part.”

“Don’t worry, I can do just enough to make it look believable without letting it get out of hand.” You link your arm through his and lean a little onto his shoulder, “C’mon, Mando, be a little happy about the money with me.”

He reaches up and pats your hand where it holds onto him. “Alright, since it means that much to you, I’m happy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day you are in a swanky boutique recommended by Eugene where you are on a mission to find a red evening gown for tonight. You tried to tell Mando that his presence was not necessary for this, but he insisted on coming along with the child in tow. It’s been an adventure already because as you were looking over possible dress choices with the saleswoman, the mischievous toddler managed to climb out of his satchel and onto a table in the lingerie section. When you caught him, he was playing in a pile of lace thongs with one pair dangling off his ear. Even more amusing was Mando who was trying to extract the kiddo from his panty pile while trying hard not to touch any of the thongs. Thankfully, the saleswoman thought it was all utterly charming and laughed right along with you. Now Mando and the little guy are sitting together looking only slightly out of place on an elegant velvet sofa while they wait for you to try on dresses.

It’s been so long since you’ve shopped for anything this fancy, you were feeling a little intimidated at first. Yet the more you viewed the beautiful gowns, the more excited you became at the prospect of wearing one for the evening. The selection in this shop is lovely and since you know Eugene is paying, for once you’re not worried about the price. You slip on the first dress and can’t help but smile at your stylish reflection. This first one is a slinky satin gown that hugs your curves. You step out into the main area of the dressing rooms where Mando is waiting and where there is also a large three-sided mirror.

“Oh that looks very nice on you,” the saleswoman says.

You turn to look at yourself in the multiple angles offered from the mirror, “I’m not sure, what do you think, Mando?”

“It’s fine,” he says flatly. Well, with that lack of enthusiasm, you know this dress is out.

The next dress is more of a ball gown style and it’s kind of a lot with a beaded bodice and a full tulle skirt. Still you figure you should see it in the better mirror for the full effect.

“Oh no, I look like a red powder puff!” You say in dismay.

“I like it better,” Mando says, and then under his breath you just barely hear him say, “You’re more covered up.”

“I can’t wear this and be taken seriously.” It’s on to dress number three.

As you adjust the straps for the third dress, you find your face heating up at your reflection. This dress screams trophy girlfriend as it is super sexy. The deep sweetheart neckline shows off a lot of cleavage and there are thigh-high slits on both sides of the skirt.

You’re barely out of the dressing room when you hear, “Absolutely not.”

You can see Mando’s visor trained on you and it feels like that black T is boring a hole into your body.

“I don’t know, I think I look really good in this one.” Wow, when you turn around you can see that this dress is practically backless.

“You look fabulous! Very hot!” the saleswoman coos at you.

“Go change.” Mando’s voice sounds deeper somehow and he’s using his this-is-not-a-request voice. A little naughty part of you wants to argue back with his demand, but you did tell him that you didn’t want Eugene to get too liberal with his definition of affection, so you figure Mando’s probably right.

When you head back to the dressing room, you’re down to just one more dress and as you slip it over your head, you know that this is the one. It’s made of a soft, floaty chiffon with a bodice that accentuates your bust and your waistline. The skirt flows down your hips and legs gracefully and while there’s a slit in this dress too, it’s more hidden and only offers a glimpse of leg as you move. When you step out of the dressing room this time all you hear is a soft murmur of approval from the saleswoman.

You smile at your reflection as you twirl a little in the mirror and imagine how nice you will look with your hair styled and with your evening makeup.

“This has to be the one,” the saleswoman is saying to you now, “Doesn’t she look enchanting?” and she turns to Mando for his approval.

Mando nods his helmet slightly, but remains quiet. You didn’t really expect him to say much, but you were hoping for a bit more than that. At least he isn’t disapproving of this gown though.

“I have the perfect shoes to go with this dress. I’ll be right back!” The saleswoman tells you.

Din waits until she is out of earshot and then says softly, “You look beautiful.” He watches as your face lights up with his compliment and you thank him, reaching out to grasp his arm briefly as you do. That seems to be a thing you do now when you’re particularly pleased with something he’s done. You turn back to the mirror to inspect the dress more and he lets his gaze roam over you.

The truth is Din thought you looked beautiful in all of the dresses, even in the silly puffy one. He didn’t want to encourage you too much with the first dress because although you looked great it in, the style was fairly revealing and he disliked the idea of Eugene seeing you in it. But then, that third dress, Maker, he almost had a heart attack when he saw you in that. It was so sexy he wanted to rip it off you right there in the middle of the store. There was no way in hell any other man was going to see you in that. This dress you’re wearing now is more sophisticated and gives off more of a sensual elegance than outright sexiness. He still hates the idea of Eugene seeing you in it and what’s more thinking that you chose the dress special for him. This whole job is stupid, but he can’t deny the money is too good to pass up. Still he doesn’t trust Eugene to have such pure intentions as he claims and he knows he won’t let the man have a single moment alone with you if he can help it.

You’ve finished choosing the shoes and now you’re heading back into the dressing room to put on your regular clothes. Din breathes a sigh of relief at seeing your normal self again and he feels himself relax a bit. He follows the saleswoman to the register station and watches as she carefully places the gown in a garment bag. You’re about to give the woman Eugene’s account information, when Din hands over his own credit chip to pay for the dress and shoes.

“Mando, what are you doing? Eugene is going to cover the cost of this.” You voice conveys your confusion at his actions.

“I’m not letting another man buy you a dress,” Din mutters.

“Why not? It’s only to wear for this party tonight.” You’re looking at him completely perplexed.

“Because I want to buy it for you,” he says more firmly this time. Din sees a flash of something in your eyes that he likes; it’s a mixture of respect and awe, and perhaps a touch of desire too if he’s not being too hopeful.

“Well, if you’re certain,” you reply softly still looking at him in that new way.

“I am.” Din takes the garment bag from the saleswoman and motions for her to charge everything to his chip. “You’re sure you didn’t want the big puffy dress, though?” And even though you can’t see the smirk on his face, he’s fairly confident you can hear it in his tone.

“Thank you, Mando, but I think this is the best choice.” You let out a light laugh and give him that beaming smile again that he loves to see. You follow him out of the store and then grasp his arm again as you say, “I really do love that dress, thank you for buying it for me.”

“You’re welcome,” Din tells you, wishing that it would just be the two of you going out tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re sure you want to do this? We could still turn around and leave.” This is the second time Mando has asked you that. The first was when you came out of the fresher after finishing your make-up and he saw your completed look for the evening. He didn’t compliment you again, but the long pause he took to look at you and the way he tilted his helmet to the side made your insides flutter nonetheless. Now you’re standing outside Eugene’s door and it seems he’s still having second thoughts.

“It will be fine, Mando. Just remember that this money means you can take a break from hunting and spend some extra time on finding the Jedi for the little guy here.” He sighs in response and knocks on the door.

You shift the toddler in your arms and you look down at him. He’s been having fun playing with the soft material of your dress and he’s got a big handful of your skirt in his little claws right now. The only worry you have is about leaving him with a stranger tonight. Eugene’s mother will probably be fine, but you’ve grown so attached to the child you’re feeling more anxious about being away from him that you anticipated.

“You’ll be a good boy tonight, won’t you, buddy?” You say to the child as you carefully extricate your dress from his little hand. “Mando and I will miss you but we won’t be too late.”

The door opens to reveal Eugene in a tuxedo with a red flower on his lapel and next to him, a cheerful looking older woman.

“Good evening, you look spectacular,” Eugene greets you enthusiastically.

“Thank you, you look dashing yourself,” you respond with a slight flirtiness to your tone. You figure you might as well get used to your role now.

“Oooh! Is this the sweet little baby I get to watch tonight?” The woman seems kind and the child coos at her with interest.

“Yes, thank you for doing this,” you respond pleasantly. You give the little guy a hug and a kiss on his forehead before handling him over to her.

“What a little charmer! You don’t have to worry about a thing, my dear. I’ll take good care of your baby and you take good care of mine.” She says with a wink towards Eugene.

“Th- thank you, mother.” Eugene sounds embarrassed and you try your best not to snicker. “We should get going.” He extends his arm to you and you lightly thread your hand around his elbow.

This whole time Mando hasn’t made a sound and is standing so still you’d almost think he was a suit of armor on display. But when you take Eugene’s arm, Mando lets out a little grunt that sounds like disapproval. You turn to look at him and mouth, “It will be OK” and give him as encouraging a smile as you can. The nod of his helmet to you is slight, but you know he understood.

Eugene leads you out onto the city walkway with Mando following close behind. The party is being held in the largest casino and it’s a short walk from Eugene’s home. Once again, the streets are filled with fashionable people ready for a night on the town. You feel the soft swish of your skirt against your legs and smile again at how nice it feels to be dressed up like this. You make small talk with Eugene, getting comfortable with him so you can make this look like a real date. You resist the urge to turn back and look at Mando though because you know if you do, your feigned interest in Eugene will falter.

By the time you reach your destination, you’ve managed to perfect a nice light laugh at Eugene’s jokes and you feel comfortable enough to lean into him in an affectionate way. As you enter the opulent ballroom of the casino, you paste a brilliant smile onto your face as if you’re simply delighted to be there. Eugene has told you he wants you to help draw the attention of various men in attendance so you figure you’ll sort of openly flirt with the room and see who notices. You catch the eye of a well-dressed older gentleman, and your technique works wonderfully as he comes right over.

“Good evening, I’m Mr. Belvers, the owner of this casino; it’s so very nice to have you here, my dear.” He greets you with a small bow and flourish of his hand.

“Why, thank you!” You respond warmly, “It was so nice of my boyfriend to bring me here tonight. You must know him, Mr. Eugene DeWitt of Advanced Gaming Enterprises?” You introduce Eugene with a smile.

“Oh yes, of course, Mr. DeWitt, how nice to see you again.” With the introductions made, Eugene launches into conversation with Mr. Belvers. You listen as best you can to the business talk and smile and nod like the perfect trophy girlfriend. It’s boring, but really easy when you realize that not much more is expected of you. Finally, with a promise to dance with Mr. Belvers later, the conversation ends and you breathe a small sigh of relief that if anything at least you got Eugene a few minutes with the owner of this place.

“That was incredible!” Eugene is saying excitedly, “I’ve never even met the man before but he acted like we were old friends. You are fantastic!” He gives your hand a squeeze and pulls you a little closer to him. He steers you deeper into the ballroom, eager to make another contact. You turn your head to look at Mando and give him a smile and a subtle nod, which he returns.

The pattern continues throughout the party, you spy an older man, make eyes at him, and reel him in for Eugene. When you’re between conversations, Mando has taken to checking in with you to make sure everything is going well. All in all, it’s about what you expected and you have to admit that Eugene was right; apparently, these men are all easily swayed by the look of a pretty face. You’re please to see that Mando’s presence is having a good effect too. These bigshots are very impressed that Eugene has a Mandalorian for his private security. Several of them have even asked Mando if he’s available for future security jobs too. Who knows, maybe Mando will come away with some business contacts of his own at the end of tonight.

As the evening continues, Eugene seems to be growing more confident, and you’ve noticed he’s taken to placing his arm around your waist. It doesn’t bother you, but occasionally his hand does seem to be a touch low. He also leaned in just a moment ago and let his lips brush your cheek. It wasn’t really much, but still you’re surprised he dared to try it.

“I said no kissing.” Mando’s voice is hard and direct, causing Eugene to flinch and instantly put more space between the two of you. “Keep your hands above her waist too.” Your heartbeat stutters at Mando’s protectiveness and you look at him with a grateful smile. When you’re sure no one else is looking, you give him the flirtatious look you’ve been using all evening and then top it off with a wink. You notice that he clenches his fists as you do this and then gives you a deeper nod in response.

I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. Din’s mantra for tonight is not a pleasant one. He’d much rather be hunting down a bounty right now than having to watch you flirt and simper to every man in the room. He’d rather be slogging through a swamp or crossing a frozen tundra to catch a quarry than have to watch yet another man ogling you or touching you. And then, there’s Eugene; Din would like to punch him in the face again. The man keeps getting bolder as the night progresses. Din’s caught him staring at your breasts and your ass several times, and he’s clearly getting too handsy. The only thing making this night remotely bearable is the way you keep looking over to him with such sweet glances, as if you’re sharing a secret with him. Although the way you looked at him just now made him want to sweep you up in his arms and haul you out of here as fast as he could. If you do that again, he doesn’t know if he can be responsible for his actions.

Din groans to himself, and prepares for this night to get worse because Eugene is leading you out onto the dance floor. There’s no way for him to follow close to you while you’re dancing and he’s willing to bet that Eugene takes advantage of that opportunity. In an attempt to stay in Eugene’s eye line as much as possible, Din stalks around the dance floor following your swaying movements. He can’t help but watch the graceful way you move as you dance, noticing the soft arch of your back and the delicate glide of your feet across the floor. As he sees Eugene’s arms pull you in closer, Din feels a deep burning anger in his stomach and once again thinks about breaking Eugene’s nose with his fist. This is the worst job ever.

Dancing with Eugene isn’t so bad you decide. It’s a nice break from all the forced flirting and extremely dull conversations you’ve had to put up with all evening. And despite the fact that you’d much rather be dancing with someone else, it’s still a pleasant activity. Moreover, after Mando’s warning, Eugene is back to being a gentleman and keeping his hands in polite territory. He does seem to be enjoying the dancing himself, quite a lot by the expression on his face, although every once in a while his confidence seems to fade for a moment.

“May I ask you a personal question?” Eugene looks at you quizzically.

“Alright,” you agree, curious.

“Are you and the Mandalorian involved? Romantically, I mean?” He looks nervous as he asks this.

“Do you think I would have agreed to this date if we were?” You deflect his question somewhat because you find that you don’t really want to admit that there’s nothing between you and Mando. Especially because it feels like you’ve been growing closer. You think about when he insisted on buying you the dress earlier today, and how special that felt, definitely not something a friend would do. Even tonight, there is this energy between you and Mando that you can’t deny, nevermind that you’re technically on a date with Eugene.

“He seems extremely protective of you.” Eugene replies.

You shrug lightly, “He is.”

“You know, if you wanted something else, a different life, I could make that happen for you,” Eugene looks at your earnestly, “After tonight, I’m going to be an even wealthier man. I would treat you like a princess.”

“Eugene,” you sigh, “I appreciate the offer, but-”

“Don’t answer yet,” he insists, “Think about it. Please.” He pulls you in closer to him so that you’re dancing cheek to cheek. You know he means it to be romantic but you feel nothing. There’s nothing to think about.

When the music ends, you feel relieved that you can put some space between the two of you. You’re turning to look for Mando when unexpectedly you hear a loud crash followed by blaster fire. As if he materialized out of nowhere, Mando is at your side pulling you to the floor and covering you with his body.

“I’ve got you,” Mando says, holding you close with one arm as the other holds his blaster. Your heart is racing and you hear the commotion of many people shouting, rushing feet, and general mayhem. You pull yourself tighter under Mando, squeeze your eyes shut, and try to keep as still as you can. Suddenly, Mando lifts off you slightly and fires three shots in rapid succession.

“It’s alright,” He tells you, “I took care of them. Everything is alright.”

“You’re sure?” Your voice comes out shaky and high-pitched.

“Hey, look at me, come on, look at me” Mando’s voice is soft and comforting, and you tip your head up and open your eyes to look at his visor. “You’re safe, no one will hurt you.”

“Thank you, Mando,” you breathe, feeling relief flood your body. Even though you can’t see his eyes, you know he’s looking back at you and it’s soothing.

“You have to let go of me now, cyar’ika, so I can help you up off this floor.” His voice is still soft and you can hear a lightness to it now. You hadn’t realized but you have a death grip on the material of his thick protective shirt on the side of his body. Chuckling weakly at yourself, you release him and he climbs off you before reaching down to pull you back to your feet.

“That was incredible shooting, Mando!” Eugene can’t hide how impressed and excited he.

“I’ll say it was!” the casino owner from before, Mr. Belvers, is coming over to offer his praise to Mando too. He gives Mando’s hand a hearty shake and then raises his voice to address the party, “Folks! Everything looks to be all safe now, thanks to this heroic Mandalorian!”

The partygoers erupt in applause and for the next several minutes, people are coming up to thank Mando personally. You’re glad to see Mando get appreciation he deserves for saving everyone, but from his body language, you think he seems a bit embarrassed by all the attention.

“Who were they?” You turn and ask Mr. Belvers.

“Some thugs who have been plaguing the casinos for weeks now. I think they came here tonight trying to rob people of their valuables. By the way, there is a reward for their capture and I’ll see to it that those credits are yours, sir.” He says this last part directly to Mando.

Din thanks the man and gives him a small card with his guild information, explaining how best to pay him. Now that the danger in the room has cleared, quite literally by casino workers who’ve come to take away the bodies of the dead men, people are starting to go back to the party. These people are so wealthy and spoiled that these violent men and the Mandalorian who dispatched them are already just an amusing anecdote to be shared over cocktails. He is so ready to leave this place. Din looks over to you and sees that while you’re calmer now, you are still visibly shaken from the intrusion of the would-be robbers. He wonders sheepishly if maybe he scared you a little too by yanking you to the ground so quickly, but it was pure instinct to protect you. Nitwit Eugene is rambling on about what an exciting evening it’s been to whoever will listen, completely oblivious to your discomfort. Din decides Eugene’s gotten more than his money’s worth and he’s taking you home right now.

“It’s time for us to leave.” Din’s voice is stern as he steps closer to you and Eugene, not caring that he’s interrupting the man.

“So soon, the party is still going-” Eugene tries to protest, but when he sees Din’s rigid posture, he trails off.

“I am rather tired, Eugene,” you say, and then lower your voice “Besides, it will be better to leave them wanting more.” Din watches as you bat your eyelashes at the man and give him a soft smile, and then like magic, Eugene is agreeing to leave. Din does have to admire your skill at using your feminine wiles to get men to do your bidding. He also knows that if you ever choose to try that with him, he’ll be putty in your hands. He smiles at the thought, but it’s short-lived as soon as he sees Eugene slide his arm around your waist again as he steers you towards the exit. Din tromps after the two of you, at least this stupid job is almost over.

You’re close to Eugene’s place and you’re feeling quite glad that this fake date is almost over. You just want to get the child and hurry back to the Crest so Mando can fly you away from here. Eugene is wittering on telling you how great you were and what a wonderful pair you make, but you’re only barely listening to him. Blessedly when you get to Eugene’s door, Mando is all business.

“It’s time to make the final transfer of credits,” Mando tells Eugene.

“Of course,” Eugene replies, taking out his holopad and completing the necessary functions. “Thank you again, you were both very impressive.”

Eugene opens the door and you and Mando wait for a few minutes until he returns with the little one who is sound asleep. He hands the child to Mando and then turns to you, “I’d like a moment alone to speak to you before we say goodnight.”

“Eugene, I think I did everything you wanted tonight, but our fake date is over.” You say pointedly.

“Please, it will only take a moment.” He looks at Mando, “Please.”

“Fine,” you say and give Mando a small nod. He doesn’t exactly give you any privacy, but Mando does take a few steps away and turns his body slightly so he’s no longer facing you head on.

Eugene takes your hand in his and says in a soft voice, “Please, tell me that you’ve thought about my offer?”

“There’s nothing for me to think about; I belong with them,” you tell him as you pull your hand from his grasp and gesture towards Mando and the child.

“But there’s so much more I can do for you, I can give you more than he can. I can give you a safe home, beautiful clothes and jewelry, you’ll never want for anything.” Eugene must think you’re completely shallow and nothing but a gold digger. “And, I would worship you.” He’s really piling it on thick now.

“Eugene, you don’t even know me, and if you did, you would know that I’m not interested in that life,” you state firmly, “I think it’s time to say goodbye. I wish you all the best with your business.” You turn to go but Eugene reaches out for your arm. Fortunately Mando is already back at your side and he brushes Eugene’s arm away roughly as he says,

“She said no.” Din turns to escort you away, placing his arm around your waist, mimicking Eugene’s earlier touch. It means he’s holding you much closer to his body than he has before when he usually just places a palm on the small of your back. He feels you relax into his touch and for the first time this evening, he feels a sense of rightness. Still though, Eugene’s words I can give you more than he can are ringing in his ears and his self-doubt makes him sigh.

He waits until you are far enough away so that Eugene cannot hear him and in a small voice, Din forces himself to ask you, “You’re certain you don’t want to stay? He did make you a good offer.”

“What? No, I absolutely don’t want to stay with Eugene.” Your answer is swift and a bit shocked.

“I would understand if you did.” Din says, his voice still soft and trying to hide his emotion.

“Mando, do you want me to stay?” You stop and turn to face him so you can look directly at his visor, your face openly displaying your displeasure at his words.

“No,” he says strongly, “I don’t. Not at all. But it would be wrong of me to hold you back if you wanted to leave.”

You slip your hand into his and look at him with soft eyes as you say, “Mando, I don’t want to leave you, or the child. I’m happy with you both, happier than I’ve been in a long time. Eugene is wrong; he doesn’t know what you can give me.”

Din’s heart pounds at your words, as he says, “I’m glad,” he pauses just for a second before he tells you, “I don’t want you to leave us.” He gives your hand a small squeeze and turns to continue walking.

“Besides, there’s no way I could stay with a man I’m not attracted to in the slightest.” Your voice has a lighter tone to it and it breaks a bit of the tension.

“He wasn’t that ugly,” Din shrugs and you laugh in response.

“No, it wasn’t really about his looks, just the overall way he carried himself. I prefer a man with more confidence.” You say.

“Confidence is attractive.” Din agrees with you.

“Yeah, it is. I like a man who can walk into a room and earn everyone’s respect just by the way he holds himself. That’s incredibly attractive.” You give him a slight side-glance as you say this. “But if we’re being shallow, then I also wasn’t physically attracted to Eugene either.”

“Why not?” Din’s curiosity is peaked.

“He was much too skinny.” You wrinkle your nose a bit as you say this.

“You like chubby men?” Din chuckles, and while he’s not chubby, he thinks of his own stomach which isn’t quite as flat as it used to be when he was younger.

“I like bigger men,” you clarify, “Men who are broader, more muscular. Although chubby is cute too. When I cuddle with a guy, I want something to cuddle in to.”

“Is that so?” It’s not lost on Din that what you’ve just described is essentially him and he can’t deny how much he likes hearing that. Plus, now he’s imagining what it would be like to cuddle with you. He doesn’t have time to dwell on that thought however, because you’re giggling at something.

“Well and then there was the worst part, his name,” you say rather playfully.

“What was wrong with his name?” Din’s never thought about a name being part of someone’s attractiveness.

“Honestly, I don’t think I could seriously moan out Eugene in a moment of passion.” You’re consumed by giggles at the idea.

Din is stunned by what you’ve just said and all he can think about is what your voice might sound like if you were to moan out his name, his real name. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to need to respond to you as you’re still wracked with laughter.

“Oh no!” You stop laughing and gasp, “I didn’t think.”

“What?” He has no idea what could be bothering you.

“Your name isn’t Eugene, is it?” Your eyes are wide as you look at him.

Din lets out a loud laugh at how comically horrified you look at the prospect. He’s still chuckling as he tells you, “Hell no.”

“Thank the Maker,” you mutter under your breath, making Din laugh again.

You’ve made your way back to the Razor Crest now and it isn’t until you have to let go of him so that he can open the ramp, that you realize you’ve been holding Mando’s hand this entire time. It felt so natural and easy to walk holding his hand, and you hope he felt the same way. You watch as he tucks the child into his pram for the night. You should probably go get yourself ready for bed, but you want to keep talking to Mando.

“May I ask you a question?” You say as he turns back towards you.

“Of course.” He nods to you.

“Why were you so adamant about no kissing tonight? I mean not that I wanted to kiss Eugene,” you make a face at the idea, “But, it seemed to really bother you?”

“Oh” Is all that he says and then he looks away slightly. You wait patiently but for a while it seems as though that might be the only answer you get, until he finally says, “I didn’t want to see him kiss you. I don’t want to see any man kiss you.”

The air between you feels suddenly charged, and you look into his visor where you think his eyes are, and you can’t help yourself from asking, “Why not?”

“Because I can’t kiss you.” Mando admits.

“Do- do you want to kiss me?” You can’t believe you’re daring to ask him that but you need to know.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” he says and you can hear frustration in his tone, “I shouldn’t and I can’t.”

“I would like to kiss you, but only if it’s something you want too,” you admit to him softly.

“I do want to kiss you,” Mando sighs and he moves towards you slightly but then holds himself in check.  

“So Mandalorians don’t kiss? I just want to understand, I don’t want to pressure you to do anything you don’t want to do or that goes against your beliefs,” you explain, wanting him to understand that you respect his creed. You can’t deny how much you want to feel closer to him and show him how you feel, but the last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable or do something he’ll regret.

“They do, there are… loopholes, but I- I’ve never-, I want to, but-” Mando shifts his feet and looks down.

“It’s ok, I understand.” You’re quiet for a moment and you think perhaps you should just drop this. But then you can’t stop yourself from asking, “What about the Keldabe Kiss? Didn’t you say there was something softer?” Your face heats up as you remember that moment well; you’ve thought about it often.

“You remembered that?” Mando says in a low voice.

“It was pretty unforgettable, Mando,” you reply with a smile.

“There is a softer version. I could show you. If you’d let me.” His voice sounds hopeful.

“I’d like that.”

He steps closer to you then and seems to stare at your face for a long moment until you decide to close the distance between you two. You’re so close you can hear him breathing. He reaches up and places his large hands on either side of your face, holding you still, as he slowly brings his helmet down to touch your forehead. When he finally makes contact, you hear him let out a shaky breath. You bring your hands to his waist and pull him in a little closer to you as you maintain contact with him. While this isn’t what you pictured when you thought of kissing him, you can’t deny how intimate and special it feels. Just from the deliberate way that Mando is holding you, tells you how important this is for him. You stay like that holding each other and feeling suspended in time.

“I know this isn’t the same as real kissing,” Mando says, “but I like holding you like this. I’ve thought about doing this a lot.” His voice is so soft you almost feel like you imagined his confession.

“I like it too,” you tell him. You’re about to tell him how much you’ve thought about being held by him as well, when suddenly the child’s cries fill the air. Just like that, the moment between you and Mando is gone and you hurry over to pick up the little one and soothe him.

“I guess I should go get us on our way. Besides, he always sleeps better when we’re in hyperspace.” Din takes a step towards the ladder, but then pauses before coming over to you and dropping his helmet down onto your forehead again for just a few seconds. It’s a small gesture, but his heart soars at being able to do it. He gives the child a comforting pat on the back before turning away and heading to the cockpit, his head full of thoughts of you.

P.S. Don’t think that you missed hearing him call you cyar’ika, you’ll be sure to ask him about it later ;)

--------‐------------------------------------Thank you for reading! Here's the link to Chapter 5 Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in later chapters.

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[renegadewangs]

Enigmatic Gnomance

Last night was movie night in my Discord server and we watched Sherlock Gnomes. Needless to say, things escalated very fast and I wrote a 2000+ words one-shot regarding the ending. Everyone liked it for some reason??? So here it is! (I’m not an expert on the gnome cinematic universe, please forgive me if I got a little detail wrong.)

Characters: Sherlock Gnomes, Watson Fandom: Sherlock Gnomes Pairings: (Lord help me,) Gnomes/Watson Warnings/rating: None. Summary: With the movie’s events behind them, Sherlock Gnomes ruminates on difficult matters.

Enigmatic Gnomance

The sun had set on the backyard when at last, Gnomes and Watson returned to their little home. Mrs. Udderson was nowhere to be seen, for which Watson found himself quite grateful. After all that'd occurred tonight, he wasn't in the mood for her invasive mooing. Gnomes hobbled over to the nearby armchair and settled himself down there. The deep crack in his leg instantly caught Watson's eye. He wasn't really a doctor- such a title was no more than an accessory in the world of gnomes. Even so, he found himself yearning to fix the injury somehow. He was responsible in a way, he felt. He'd been weak and he'd gotten cocky, which had made him a blind and unwilling pawn in Moriarty's little scheme.

But there was nothing to be done about it now; porcelain would never heal. Even with glue, Gnomes ran the risk of losing his leg forever if he were ever reckless.

Watson hesitated for a moment, then approached the armchair. His gaze wasn't being met. Gnomes had folded his hands together and was now peering towards his own feet. "Gnomes, ah... Are you alright? Can I get you anything?" he asked awkwardly.

Even with their reunion atop the bridge and their agreement to continue being partners, Gnomes still hadn't quite acknowledged the betrayal. It was maddening. Why wasn't he scolded? For Gnomes to come to terms with his rude dismissal of others had been the entire point, that much was true. However, to not see the gargoyles' true nature and be used by their master... That had been worthy of a good scoff, surely. Or at the very least an indignant sniff. Gnomes could have died, all due to Watson's own naivety. Sure enough, Gnomes didn't reply. The silence was worse than anything else he could have said.

"Gnomes..." Watson trailed off for a moment. Then he decided there was nothing to be gained by keeping his feelings bottled up. That was what'd caused this whole mess in the first place. "It's only us, now. Please, just talk to me."

"... I was ruminating, Watson," said Gnomes, still staring at his feet.

"Oh?"

"Yes, indeed. Ruminating. Quite deeply, I might say. My mind palace lost an entire dimension, attempting to process these hectic thoughts of mine. However, I'm afraid I'm drawing a blank. Perhaps, if you would be so kind, you might refresh my memory?"

The sober, forward nature of Gnomes's words caught Watson off guard. He hadn't known his friend to be so earnest, nor so willing to ask for help, for a very long time. Perhaps the day's events had made a difference after all. But then... Had it been Watson to make Gnomes see sense, or had it been Moriarty's doing? It was best not to think too hard on that, so he attempted to force the notion out of his mind.

"Of course, old friend." Watson placed a hand on the back of the armchair, smiling meekly. "If you need my help, you need only ask for it. Though perhaps... A bit more politely than you used to."

Gnomes uttered a chuckle, bitter as lime(stone). "Hah, quite right," he admitted. "I was wondering... Whether I actually took the time to say how sorry I am."

Watson felt his eyes widen and his body stiffen. Had he heard that correctly? Surely not. "Sorry" was a word not uttered aloud by Gnomes in a long time, short of demanding it from others.

"... What?"

"Quite a bit happened tonight. Moriarty is nothing if not a distraction. I'm certain I said quite a few things- to him and to you. However, it's all a bit of a blur, you see. Did I? Apologize?"

Watson shook his head fiercely. This was all wrong. This was what he'd wanted, and yet... No, he didn't deserve it, did he? "Gnomes- You aren't the one who needs to apologize. I put innocent gnomes in danger- I put you in danger. Moriarty could've won, all because I-I... I thought you'd..."

A hand on Watson's wrist caused any other words to vanish. He looked down to meet Gnomes's eyes. Even more out of place than the gnome's apology was the expression on his face, which Watson couldn't recall ever having seen once in all their years of partnership. What was it? Some sort of turmoil, certainly.

"My dear man, you were right to confront me with my attitude. To treat others in such dreadful a manner is already mortifying to me, in hindsight, but you... You deserved so much more and I fear I took your companionship for granted for the longest time. I'd forgotten just how brilliant you are, and so, you played the game quite well."

"Gnomes... Truly, you don't need to-"

"I am sorry, Watson. More sorry than even my own brilliant mind could ever begin to formulate."

Watson sighed and placed his own hand atop Gnomes's own. "I know. And I'm sorry as well."

For a long moment, nothing was said. Gnomes's eyes merely flitted towards Watson's hand and lingered there. Then, at last, he found his voice again. It had cracked almost as badly as his leg. "... I don't deserve a partner like you. Should you follow Irene's example and find your luck elsewhere, I would not blame you."

"Don't be a fool," Watson replied straight off the bat. "I did not go through so much trouble to teach you a lesson, only to toss away the benefits before I could reap them."

"You were perfectly content to abandon our partnership earlier."

"Well... It wasn't quite a partnership earlier, now was it?"

Gnomes appeared dumbstruck, though only for a moment. Then his lips carved themselves into a grin. "... Fair enough."

Watson took another shuffling step closer to the armchair, leaning forward and eyes narrowing into a bit of a squint. "Are you alright? Your leg... It looks quite damaged."

"It's only a few surface cracks," Gnomes replied, sticking his nose up in the air. "Nothing to worry about. The great Sherlock Gnomes is nothing if not resilient. It is a shame, though. That was my favorite leg."

Watson chuckled dryly. "I don't believe there's anything in this world you love more than yourself."

But Gnomes didn't reply. He merely stared ahead blankly at the wall. Had he gotten lost in his own thoughts again? Watson hadn't thought he'd said anything worth contemplating, nor blocking out.

"... Are you certain you're alright, Gnomes?" he asked.

"I... Yes." Gnomes blinked fiercely and rapped the fingers of his other hand against the armrest of the chair. "It's curious. You are quite clever, Watson, but then... Perhaps, unable to decipher the very same enigma which plagues me."

"An enigma, Gnomes?" Watson repeated. What was there still left to solve, at this point? It must've been significant, if Gnomes himself still struggled to put a finger on it. How tragic, then, that he would assume Watson would be unable to decipher it also. Were the learned lessons being foregone already? He hoped not.

"The time I spent with Irene... Well, surely you recall. It was a jolly good romp for a while, but I always knew she would come second place to the mysteries and the chases. And she came to know this as well. So in the end, a jolly good romp was all it was. I did not think I could ever love someone the way she expected me to."

Indeed, Watson did recall those 'jolly good romps'. He remembered the pain on Irene's face, which grew more severe with every instance where she'd been snubbed. He also remembered her resolution on the day she decided she would get over him. It was so very easy to rope her into his plans because the two of them related to one another. They both knew just how painful it was to be dismissed by Gnomes. They both agreed that the lesson had needed to come sooner and there was nothing left to salvage, but then... Watson hadn't given up quite as much hope as Irene, it turned out. It was a good thing that he hadn't.

"Indeed. But what's that got to do with another puzzle?" he asked.

"When I saw you fall and I heard that dreadful smashing sound... Well, I didn't want to think about it, really. I pushed it from my mind before it could ever take root there, because if I'd allowed that... Well, I'm sure I would've been quite useless for the remainder of the investigation."

"Oh, Gnomes, I didn't mean for you to-"

"It was a clever ploy, of course. I fell for it. Didn't even stop to consider you might catch yourself. That warrants another apology, I believe."

"No, really, it's fine. Perhaps I'd gone too far with that."

Gnomes's hand curled around Watson's wrist more fiercely. He turned his head upwards once again, brow furrowed, features pleading. "Watson," he began softly. "If I'd lost you... If you were truly gone, what would I do with myself? That's what I was ruminating on, you see. It pains me simply to envision the hypothetical, which is to say nothing of what would happen if it were a reality. I've never felt anything of the sort for Irene. So will you tell me, please?"

The situation was surreal. To hear words like that coming from his old friend... Well, the plan truly had been far more effective than Watson had expected it to be, though the result was overwhelming. Perhaps even unnerving. To earn Gnomes's respect and partnership was one thing, but to hear that his presence would've been missed so very dearly... That was more than he'd ever bargained for, or even dared to wish for. He didn't know how to feel now. He didn't understand what was being asked of him.

"... Tell you what, Gnomes?"

"Isn't there someone I love more than myself, or the thrill of the hunt?"

Watson's mind went blank. He felt quite cold, all of a sudden. But then... Also hot at the same time, as if he were standing out in the blazing sun of a warm summer's day. Gnomes's eyes were still on his own, waiting, perhaps deducing. Watson didn't dare look away. He was cornered now- trapped in Gnomes's intense stare.

Before tonight, his response would have been clear. He would have laughed bitterly at the question, then turned away from it. But then... Before tonight, it never would have been asked. Gnomes had never taken such things into consideration until he'd been forced to. To have Gnomes reflect on how much he'd always relied on Watson, that had been the goal. An unexpected side-effect, then, was that Watson now had to reflect on how much he'd relied on Gnomes. He'd wanted be looked at, to be acknowledged, to be praised- to be close to Gnomes, the way he used to when they first began to solve cases.

"I think that... The only one who could ever answer that question is you, Gnomes," he ultimately said.

"I... I need a hint, I believe," Gnomes replied in a bit of a stammer. "Just a clue, a morsel. The tiniest bit of guidance when it comes to deciphering these feelings."

"I'm not much help there, I'm afraid. I may be just as lost as you are."

"Oh... Are you really?" Gnomes paused for a moment, lips pursing and nose crinkling as he mulled it over. "If we're both lost in the same manner, does that not imply we both experience these same feelings?"

"Ah..."

And still, Watson had no true answer to give. Just as Gnomes's brilliant mind failed to form an apology strong enough to do the sentiment justice, so too did Watson's own fail to translate his feelings into words.

-Feelings? Were there feelings after all?

After about ten seconds, Gnomes tore his attention away from Watson's eyes and returned to gazing at his own feet. "Perhaps... It would be presumptuous to expect an answer to this riddle this very night. We are both taken by exhaustion, I'm sure. Delirious with it, perhaps. So..."

Still, no cohesive sentences came to Watson. Even so, he did have a reply, he thought. It wasn't a very clever one, but it was a reply all the same. He leaned forward to press a kiss against Gnomes's cheek. The gesture clearly shocked his friend, for he made a rather funny noise and attempted to jump up out of the chair. His bad leg, however, had other plans. Gnomes slumped backwards before he could ever fully stand upright and Watson caught him by the shoulders with both hands on instinct, cushioning the fall.

"Whaa- Whaaaat... son....!" Gnomes tilted his head backwards to peer up at him. "What...?"

"That was the small clue you were searching for, which ought to help you decipher these feelings of yours," Watson explained with another wry smile.

Gnomes appeared stunned. However, he soon relaxed in Watson's hold and eased himself back into the chair properly. "Indeed, that was quite helpful," he said. "Whatever would I do without your assistance, dear fellow? You truly are indispensable."

"It's good of you to say such things out loud, Gnomes. I expect to hear much more praise in the future."

"Of course!"

Indeed, they were both exhausted and had more than enough time to continue 'ruminating' on their feelings. For now, Watson was quite content to leave it that. Immense progress had already been made, and aside from that... Mrs. Udderson was still lurking high above them.

[fanficsandfluff]

The Wake-Up

Finally, I've crossed a fic idea off my daydream checklist! Enjoy!

Fandom: MCU, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, some Cass and AJ, a smidge of Sarah

Words: 2,010

Bucky hadn’t felt as well-rested as he had on Sarah’s couch, even despite being woken by her two boys. So, yes, maybe he did keep accepting offers to stay over. It helped his mental well-being, so what? He sought the rest and relaxation. Sam hadn’t even been there a few times, but it was still as welcome as ever. Sarah cooked great food. He brought her flowers the last time he slept over, and he loved the bright smile that sprung to her face.

“We need to clear a guest room all for you,” Sarah joked at the dinner table on one particular summer night.

“You can take Uncle Sam’s room when he’s not here!” Cass announced through a mouthful of grits.

Bucky grinned at all the jests and he knuckled Cass’s shoulder, “Oh, I’m sure Uncle Sam wouldn’t mind at all,” he always smiled whenever he heard ‘Uncle Sam’ being used to address the new Captain America. Brought a lot of nostalgia back, and even turned it into something positive.

But on the couch he remained, at least for the upcoming night.

Sam pulled up at 3 am, the whole house asleep. He had to get used to seeing Bucky on Sarah’s couch, but it was finally starting to become less surprising. As long as he was on the couch and not in Sarah’s bed, all things were fine by him. Sam tiptoed in after shedding his boots at the door, easing into the comfort brought to him just by being in the house. He adjusted the blanket by Bucky’s feet and pulled another corner over his bare arm, non-metal.

Sam smirked to himself. He always assumed Bucky possessed superhuman senses, so someone who decided to even step too close while he slept would be pulverized immediately. But no. The guy needed the sleep, he supposed. Bucky’s breathing pattern didn’t even change when Sam adjusted the blanket. Hmm… he could use this.

~~~

“Shhh, shhshh, hey guys,” Sam kissed his nephews on their foreheads when he woke them purposely later that morning. Dawn was just creeping over the bayou, shimmering the lights on the water.

“Wait, shh, you gotta stay quiet or you’ll ruin it,” Sam had his hand atop AJ’s head and he ruffled it around, making the older boy giggle.

“Ruin what?” Cass whispered.

“We’re gonna wake Bucky. The guy’s just always sleeping, isn’t he?”

Both boys shared identical grins, “Yeah, totally!” AJ slipped his glasses onto his face, Cass following suit.

And so the plot begun. Sam went to the bathroom with his nephews and gathered shaving cream after Cass had pulled a feather from his animal project from school. Sam explained what they’d be doing with these tools, since they’d never pulled this prank before (wow, Sam felt old).

AJ and Cass were practically vibrating with anticipation and giddiness. The trio snuck their way to the couch. Sam sprayed the shaving cream on Bucky’s metal hand since he knew how to not make the spray noise come out so loudly (and his human arm was tucked behind him on the couch so he couldn’t get to that one, okay? He didn’t go for the metal on purpose, he isn’t that cruel).

Sam pointed to Cass first as the three of them stood by Bucky’s head, hiding behind that edge of the couch, crouching. Cass stood and swiped the feather across Bucky’s forehead. No reaction. He gave it to AJ. AJ, more methodical, wiggled the feathered tip on the bridge of Bucky’s nose. Now he got his nose to scrunch, brow to furrow, but his arms stayed put. Sam next. He got the feather to move closer to Bucky’s nostrils.

“So close…” Cass whispered in the smallest voice, hands covering his mouth. AJ also put his own hand over Cass’s hands covering his mouth because of the comment.

Sam kept it up, even swiping around Bucky’s cheeks, when-- WHAM!

The boys both exclaimed, Cass jumping up and down excitedly while giggling. Sam laughed loudly, holding his stomach. The noise was a loud metal clang when metal arm connected with skull. It was hilarious.

Bucky shot up with a start, feeling his eyes covered in some kind of gook, and he practically gave himself a headache. He heard all the laughter and he sighed deeply.

“Gross…” he grumbled and wiped his eyes, not realizing his hand was the cause. He ended up smearing more shaving cream across his eyes.

“You got a little something…” Sam spoke, holding back more laughs. Anything to mess with Bucky was the highlight of Sam’s day.

Bucky got enough shaving cream off his face and wiped onto his pants to see again. He eyed the boys first, knowing he could scare them off quicker. He growled.

“Go go go!” AJ directed his younger brother, ushering him back towards the bedrooms, the two shoving each other and tripping over each other along the way.

Bucky’s eyes went to Sam immediately after.

Sam had to think quick. Run from a super soldier and inevitably get caught, or wake Sarah because there’s no way Bucky would do anything to him if Sarah was--- yeah, nope, not willing to face Sarah’s wrath either. Sam bolted out the front door, hearing the screen door clatter behind him. Not two seconds later he heard it clatter again, meaning Bucky was hot on his trail.

Sam ran through the yard, weaving between trees, feeling the dewy grass get kicked up under his bare feet.

Bucky threw himself at Sam when he had the shot and they both propelled forward, rolling in the grass for a few feet.

“Ow! Shit, Buck!” Sam exclaimed, groaning, feigning more pain than he was actually in.

Bucky was atop Sam, not falling for the act for a second. It took Sam a moment to look up and he burst out another laugh, unable to help himself. Bucky still had a white-painted face full of shaving cream, just now looking more smeared than goopy.

“You know you’re so dead and you’re still laughing? Where’d you get the balls…” Bucky tried to sound menacing, he really did.

“Nahah, no, you--” he cleared his throat, buying time so he could formulate a way out from under the Winter Soldier, “It’s good for your skin. Moisturizing. You look good.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes and his metal hand snapped to Sam’s when he tried to move, wrenching it up above his head. Sam was pinned. Now was the time he was getting nervous.

“It was all AJ and Cass, I just thought you should know.”

“Mmhm,” Bucky, man of few words, looked up and down Sam’s torso. He had him pinned. Now what to do. Bucky poked at Sam’s protruding rib. He did it again to the few above that one, making a little path of pokes.

Sam shifted under him, uncomfortable. His face looked much less jovial now. Annoyed. Good.

“Oh Sam, buddy, you never told me you were ticklish,” he drawled.

“I’m not--I mean, just stop. I’m sorry,” Sam apologized.

Bucky’s eyebrow actually raised. That was the whole fun of the game. Coaxing the apology. But of course Sam went and ruined that. Nice guy.

“For what?” Nice recovery, Barnes.

“For waking you up.”

Bucky allowed himself to quirk the corners of his lips, “Gotta be more specific than that,” and his one hand dug into the ribs on Sam’s right side. His fingers groped for the spaces in between and massaged his way in. Sam bucked and laughter was torn from his chest.

Sam was ticklish and only Sarah knew. Of course she knew, being the older sister. But dammit, he was never planning on Bucky Barnes figuring it out. And this was exactly why! The guy would be devastating!

“No! NohohoHO BUCKY!” Sam twisted side to side since that’s all the mobility he was allowed.

“What else are you sorry for? Here, I’ll give you the list,” as Bucky spoke, he had to raise his voice over Sam’s desperate giggles, hand switching to clawing at the other’s belly, “You woke me up with a prank. So there’s that. You lied and blamed AJ and Cass for something you 100% planned. You ran from the scene of the crime. Am I missing anything, Wilson?”

“Screhehehew you!” Sam got out before laughing louder as Bucky’s hand scratched at his armpit, “Stop! Stoppit, you fuhucking cyborg!”

“Oho! I’ll add that! Aaand, oh, and you lied to me about you not being ticklish. You said ‘I’m not,’” Bucky imitated Sam in a very stupid voice, “when clearly you are. Very. Very ticklish.”

Sam was pulling on his arms as much as he could without injuring himself. His veins popped, muscles straining. He was useless like this. Defenseless.

But he was laughing.

That was kind of nice.

Bucky contemplated letting go and allowing Sam to squirm. He liked having him at his mercy like this, though. Made him feel powerful… Hm.

Bucky kept Sam pinned with his vibranium appendage, and he wiped as much of the remaining shaving cream off his face as he could with his right hand.

Sam coughed as he sucked the humid morning air into his lungs. By now he didn’t know if the moistness he felt all along his back was from the dewy grass or from his own sweat.

“No, man, dohon’t,” he saw the absolute mischief painted on Bucky’s gleeful face and his raised shaving cream hand. Bucky planted his palm on the side of Sam’s face, chuckling to himself after the act.

“Aw, you-- you’re real gross, Barnes, you know that?” Sam spit out the imaginary shaving cream that got in his mouth.

“I think I’m just being fair,” Bucky pushed up Sam’s sleep shirt with his free elbow and he started tracing patterns with shaving cream along Sam’s belly. That got Cap giggling all over again.

“Buhuhucky, noho!”

“Keep giggling, Sam, it’s only gonna make me want to keep this up.”

Sam would swear up and down that that particular comment didn’t make him blush, but oh boy he felt his cheeks get warmer.

“I don’t g-gihiggle, asshole!”

“Oh, no?” Bucky switched to scratching at Sam’s taught tummy, the shaving cream making the experience extra slippery, causing Sam’s laughter to jump in pitch.

“I”m sorry!” Sam squeaked out before Bucky could even change tactics again.

Bucky chortled, “For…?”

“Everything! Eheverything you sahahaid!”

“Aww,” Bucky smiled. He pulled his metal arm back and just sat on Sam’s waist, still basking in the glow of winning like this.

Bucky leaned his head down closer to Sam’s, “I forgive you,” he said curtly. He watched the last few huffs and breaths of light laughs leave Sam’s lips. He could get headbutted being this close to Sam’s own face. Or kissed. Wait--

Bucky climbed off of Sam, sitting beside him in the grass. He pulled up the bottom of his shirt and wiped the shaving cream fully off his face.

Sam jabbed Bucky’s abs when the shirt came up and the Winter Soldier twitched.

Sam smiled wide. Bucky, eyes squinted at first, soon relaxed his face and allowed himself to smile back.

“Don’t do that again,” Bucky pointed a vibranium finger at Sam.

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“You made Cass and AJ very happy.”

“Yeah, well…. They don’t need to prank me to be happy.”

“Yeah they did. Being mischievous. It’s all part of being little kids,” Sam sat up, head tilted Bucky’s way.

“Still.”

“Okay, I was trying to be thankful, jerk. Thanks for handling it like a good sport.”

Bucky looked over at Sam and he held his gaze for a few seconds. Did Sam like what just happened? Or was that just praise for him for not ripping Sam’s nephews limb from limb? Restraint?

“Oof, that brain malfunctions a whole lot, doesn’t it?” Sam was right back to teasing, “Code red!”

Bucky chuckled, head bowed. Sam, proud as ever to get that smile from the Winter Soldier, nudged him.

“You’re so stupid,” was all Bucky could think of saying. Sam laughed.

[fridayfirefly]

Hardcore Hide-and-Seek

Read Hardcore Hide-and-Seek on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 27 - Contest

There was a dull ache behind his temples that just wouldn't go away. The harsh, bright lights of his computer screen and the fact that he hadn't slept in almost 36 hours combined to give Tim a headache so powerful he could barely think.

"Sweetheart. Honeybunch. Cupcake. Darling." Marinette poked him in the shoulder after each pet name. "You need to go to bed now before you pass out on the keyboard." She gently pulled on his arm, guiding him away from the computer.

"Not yet. Give me... two more hours."

"No way. You need to sleep."

"I just need to finish this one program to search and identify every pedestrian walking by all five of Jason's safehouses, get it up and running, and check it for bugs. Then I can go to sleep."

Marinette groaned. "Nine hours, that's all I'm asking."

"You know how much can be done in nine hours? In nine hours Damian will have checked half of The Bowery, Cass and Steph will have combed through all of Crime Alley, and Dick and Babs will have hacked their way into every street-facing camera in Gotham."

"First of all, you're not going to find Jason if you're too tired to think straight. Second, finding Jason first means nothing if you're too tired to catch him." Marinette rolled her eyes. "Third, I think this whole contest is ridiculous. I swear, you Bats play the weirdest games."

"It isn't weird. It's good practice for our tracking abilities," protested Tim.

"It's extreme hide-and-seek tag, that's what it is. Now get to bed. If you get nine hours of sleep tonight, I'll help you catch Jason tomorrow morning."

"Fine." Tim cast one last longing look at the computer before Marinette pulled him out of the Batcave.

----------

The light of morning woke Tim up, reminding him that he had been too tired the night before to set an alarm. "What time is it?"

"It's nine in the morning. You were right that Cass and Steph searched through Crime Alley. They checked all three of Jason's safehouses but found nothing. Damian got sidetracked by an armed robbery while searching through The Bowery and was barely able to check a few blocks. Dick and Babs got access to the traffic camera and the video of two different security companies, but they weren't able to get any of your facial recognition programs to run on any of the feeds."

"Wait, what?" asked Tim, still not fully awake.

"I was serious about helping you. I don't do anything halfway," said Marinette.

Tim sat up, "That's great! Our odds of winning triple when we team up. What were you saying about Babs and Dick?"

"They can't get your facial recognition program to run."

"That's because I tweaked some of the code right at the end to require a confirmation from my laptop. That way if any of my codes fall into the wrong hands, I'll know." Tim grabbed his laptop off of his desk and opened it. A pop-up appeared in the corner of the screen.

[user: Babs requests access for FACIAL RECOGNITION]

There were three options underneath: YES, NO, and IMITATION RUN. Tim clicked the third.

"What does imitation run do?" asked Marinette.

"It will go through to all of the video feeds, but it won't actually flag anything. It will just run passively. Dick and Babs, however, won't know that."

"Clever. That should set Dick and Babs back. Now how are we going to find Jason?"

"Jason knows that we have programs to monitor anywhere where there are security cameras. That means he'll be staying away from traffic cameras. He's lying low - probably in a safehouse."

"Cass and Steph checked all three of the safehouses in Crime Alley," objected Marinette.

Tim shook his head. "Jason has more than three safehouses in Crime Alley. Those three are just the ones we know about."

"How are we going to find these safehouses?" asked Marinette. "If there's one thing Jason's good at, it's disappearing."

"That's the problem. Jason only has to last three more days before he wins. It's entirely possible for him to just hole up in his safehouse and never leave."

"On the other hand, that means that we've got him cornered once we figure out the location of his safehouse."

Tim nodded. "Let's get searching."

The problem with finding a safehouse is that there isn't much to do once a person is successfully hidden inside. It's impossible to search every single building in all of Crime Alley (though Steph and Cass together were giving a remarkably good effort of scouring for signs of Jason), so Tim and Marinette took a different approach.

"I designed the burner phones that all of the Bats use in our safehouses, which is how I know for certain that there are no trackers in them. However, if I send out a system update, they all update automatically. When the update is installed, it will send back a confirmation to the main servers. I can trace that message back to figure out the location of all of the burner phones."

"How long will that take?"

"Half an hour to get everything ready to send out a system update. Fifteen minutes after that before all the phones are updated and send their confirmation messages. From there we can start checking safehouses."

Marinette grinned. "See, I told you that you would think better with a full night of sleep."

"You were right," Tim admitted.

"You start the system update, I'm going to make breakfast."

Marinette left the bedroom and Tim wondered how he got so lucky as to have her with him.

----------

After collecting the locations of all the safehouse burner phones and cross-checking the results with the list of known safehouses, there were five unconfirmed safehouses left.

"Two in Crime Alley, two in The Bowery, and one in East End," reported Tim.

"Let's hit East End first, then move onto The Bowery, and end in Crime Alley," Marinette formulated the plan over a plate of pancakes. "What are the official rules to this game, anyway?"

"Jason got twelve hours to hide. Then we get five days to track him down and tag him. The winner gets to drive the Batmobile anytime Bruce isn't in town for the next six months."

Marinette playfully rolled her eyes. "Of course the prize is driving the Batmobile." Getting up from her finished breakfast, Marinette started putting on her coat and shoes. "Come on, Tim, let's go win you Batmobile privileges."

The apartment in East End was empty, save a few rats that scurried across the hallway of the apartment. Marinette wrinkled her nose and she peered out the grimy window. "Who's safehouse do you think this was?"

Tim fished a half-empty carton of cigarettes out of a drawer in the kitchen. "Jason's, probably, but given the amount of dust in here, I don't think he's been here for a while."

The brick house in The Bowery was a little cleaner but still abandoned. The little front yard was half dirt and half weeds. Pinned up on a bulletin board in the front hallway was an empty postcard decorated with the logo for Haly's Circus. Tim concluded that it was Dick's safehouse and they moved onto the next safehouse. It was in an apartment complex in Crown Point, the seediest district of The Bowery. It was stocked with knives, guns, and a box of neatly labeled poisons.

"Damian's safehouse?" guessed Marinette. "He's the only one I could see having poison kept on hand."

Tim nodded, "Probably."

The second-to-last safehouse was on the border between The Bowery and Crime Alley. It was small and run-down, but it seemed that at one point it had been well-maintained. The mailbox was hand-painted yellow, with blue letters reading: The Brown's.

"Stephanie's old house," said Tim, realization.

"Sentimental choice for a safehouse," noted Marinette.

It felt wrong to enter the house that Steph grew up in, so they moved on from it. There was no way Jason was inside, not when Steph and Babs had already search the known safehouses in Crime Alley.

Tim sighed as they drove to the last location. "We've only got one safehouse left to check. I'm not sure what we'll do if Jason isn't in it." Tim had forgotten to consider that Jason might have gotten a burner phone from somewhere else, other than the supply cupboard in the Batcave.

"If he isn't there then we'll go back to the drawing board, I suppose. But don't lose hope yet. I have a good feeling about this one," Marinette reasoned.

The final safe house was a nondescript apartment building: brown brick exterior, cigarette butts on the sidewalk, and grimy windows.

"Do you think this is it?" asked Marinette.

Tim shrugged. "We'll just have to find out."

There were eight apartments in the building, four on the first floor and four on the second. Tim and Marinette quickly swept the first floor, but none of the apartments were Jason's. They then moved to the second floor. Tim quickly picked up on a dusty footprint on the carpet. He recognized the tread-marks from the bottoms of Jason's shoes. "Second door on the left," whispered Tim. "You head outside and make sure he doesn't escape through the windows."

"I'll let you tag him," Marinette whispered in response, slipping down the stairs.

Tim waited a full minute for Marinette to get into position, then crept up to the door. Taking a deep breath, Tim waited for the moment to feel right. Then another breath. Bang!

Tim broke through the door, revealing Jason sitting on the bed, scrolling on his phone.

Jason swore and reached for the gun on the bedside table, but he didn't get a chance to fully react before Tim tagged him out.

"Goddammit!" Jason threw the gun on the bed in frustration. "How did you find me?"

"Burner phone," chimed in Marinette as she popped through the window.

"You said they didn't contain trackers," Jason accused.

"They don't. But when I issued a system update, they all sent a confirmation which I was able to track," Tim said smugly, trying not to gloat too hard.

Jason whipped open a drawer in the cramped kitchen and pulled out the burner phone, tossing it to Tim. "Next time, I'm picking out my own burner phone."

"If it wasn't the phone, we'd have found something else. Admit it, we were good," said Marinette.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Good job, Replacement. You too, Pixie Pop."

"See you at home," Marinette chirped. "Now that this silly contest is over, I have Tim to myself for the next two days. No more sharing his with his computer."

Tim smiled at the thought of finally spending time with Marinette. "Let's go."

"I thought you'd never ask."

@maribatmarch-2k21

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Evan’s Personal Route Chapter 1-2: Candle-Lit Game (烛光博弈) Translation

“So this is how he, who I've always been following, is truly like?”

*Light and Night Master-list | Evan’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Evan’s tag will be #For Night, For Revolution

Not long later, Evan's car stopped in front of a quiet victorian-style townhouse amidst a noisy neighbourhood.

An impeccably dressed waiter steps up politely to help us open the doors of the car.

I followed after him as we proceeded along a gravel path surrounded by rose bushes.

I looked at the gap between the rocks of the gravel path and back to my high heels again, awkwardly slowing down as I went.

This was when Evan, who had been walking alongside me, came to a stop. He crooked his elbow in my direction, offering it for me to take.

Evan: The path here is hard to tread.

Taking one cautionary glance at the winding road before me, I hesitated for a moment before linking my arm with his.

Perhaps it was because of how stiffly I was moving, for the sides of Evan’s lips quirked upwards. He slightly inclined his head, glancing at me.

Evan: Why? Are you not used to it?

I was speechless for a while as I attempted to formulate an answer that wouldn’t immediately out me.

As if reading my mind, he spoke once more, his voice tinged with faint amusement.

Evan: I'm talking about the dinner party.

MC: Oh, the dinner party… Honestly, it's a little out of my league.

MC: Can I ask who's going to be attending?

Evan: One is a senior I'm familiar with, and another, is something I think you'll know.

MC: Someone I know?

I tried to think of who it might be; alas, coming up with nothing.

Evan: I remember you once saying that you fancied the perfume brand that was under Zeal.

Evan: If so, then do you know about the founder, Zee?

MC: Oh! I saw his post this afternoon. I think he’s in Guangqi City now.

MC: Wait a minute! Don't tell me—

I gave Evan an incredulous look, only to see him nod with a faint smile playing on his lips.

Evan: Yes. The senior that I happen to be close to is also coincidentally a close friend of Mr. Zee’s.

Evan: Today’s dinner party’s to welcome him.

Evan spoke lightly of it, but I couldn’t help but feel nervous.

Today’s dinner party is way more important than I thought! It might even affect the cooperation between both companies!

My heart unwittingly raced at the thought, and I’d subconsciously tightened my grip on his arm.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

The waiter pulled the doors open for us when we reached the entrance, and a middle-aged man immediately came up to greet us both.

??: It's been a long time, young Lu.

Evan: Sorry to keep you waiting, Uncle Pan.

Mr. Pan: No need to be so polite. I've only just arrived as well.

Mr. Pan: Let's put all of that aside for now. Shouldn't you first introduce your lady friend here?

I suddenly realized that I’ve been clinging onto his arm ever since entering the room, quickly letting go of it.

Evan merely went along with me and relaxed the arm that he’d held up for me. He nodded at Uncle Pan and faced him with a light smile.

Evan: This is (Y/n), a very talented Fashion Designer of my Company's.

Evan: (Y/n), this is Uncle Pan, a renowned businessman in Guangqi's business world, and also a senior of mine that I greatly respect.

I hurriedly extended a hand to Uncle Pan, who'd come to greet us.

MC: Hello, Uncle Pan…

Mr. Pan: Haha, no need to be so polite, Miss (Y/n). The food served in this restaurant is something that you cannot miss out on! Do be sure to eat lots!

MC: Will do! Thank you!

Mr. Pan: Take (Y/n) inside first, young Lu.

Evan: Alright.

We both bowed our heads slightly at him, expressing our gratitude. The waiter immediately came up, leading us to the room on the second floor.

All that could be heard was our footsteps, echoing in the elegant hallway.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Not long after we’d seated ourselves, Uncle Pan entered the room followed by another middle-aged man.

I could recognize him at a glance. That man was none other than Zee.

Time did not dull his edge. In fact, it merely gave him a couple of notches of calmness. His sharp eyes openly swept across everyone present without the slightest bit of hesitation. I don’t know if it was just me, but I felt as if something had flashed in his eyes when his line of sight fell on me.

After Uncle Pan had finished with his brief introductions, Evan leaned forwards, extending a hand out to Zee.

Evan: It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Zee.

Zee raised his eyebrows and contemplated him for a good long while before slowly reaching out to shake his hand.

Zee: Warson's CEO? Pleasure's mine.

After exchanging greetings, Uncle Pan smiled as he patted both of their shoulders, gesturing for everyone to take a seat at the table.

Evan and I were seated at one side, while Zee and Uncle Pan were on the other.

The waiter began to serve us the dishes in an orderly manner.

For a while, the only thing that could be heard was the soft thuds of a leather shoe against the low pile carpet, accompanied by the occasional clink of tableware.

Evan: I've long since heard that you're an avid collector of antiques, Mr. Zee. So, I've prepared a gift to commemorate our first meeting.

The words had only left his lips when two men dressed impeccably in suit and gloves stepped up with a scroll, unravelling it for everyone to view.

It was an ancient painting. The paper had already yellowed, but the picture depicted on it was complete and clear, boasting vibrant colours, its inscription and seal as clear as the day and distinguishable.

Although I’d often visited the museum as a kid, it was the ancient outfits and accessories that had piqued my interest. Hence, my limited understanding when it came to calligraphy and paintings. I could only tell that this was a work that originated from the Qing Dynasty, which had used the lighting styles, shading styles, and the perspective of many western artworks as reference.

The sides of Zee’s mouth curved slightly upwards, his eyes lighting up with joy at the sight.

Zee: It truly is a treasure of invaluable rarity.

Zee: Looks like you really do know your stuff, Mr. Lu.

Evan: Can’t say I do, myself; but, I’ve often heard Uncle Pan talk about your passion when it comes to these things.

Mr. Pan: Young Lu here’s very considerate. He remembers everything I tell him!

Mr. Pan: You too. Stop evading and take it already!

Zee: If my old pal insists; then I shall.

Zee: Still, it wouldn’t look all that good for me to take something without giving something else in return.

Zee: I’ve recently found an interesting little gadget. You can have it as a return gift if it interests you.

Saying so, Zee snapped his fingers with a smirk.

In a snap of a finger, a man behind him brought forth an intricately carved jewellery box made out of lacquered wood, placing it before us.

The inside of the red box was padded with fine silk, and lying above it was an exquisite gold hairpin.

MC: This! Isn't this Wanli’s Gold Hairpin!?

Then, all gazes turned to me. I flushed with embarrassment.

MC: Sorry, that was inappropriate of me….

Zee turned to look at me in rapt interest, with something inexplicable simmering behind his smile.

Zee: As expected of you, Mr. Lu. Even your female companion’s so learned and talented. You have a keen eye, Miss (Y/n).

Zee: I wonder just how much you know about this gold hairpin? How about you tell us more about it?

He'd already motioned towards the man in a suit, not waiting for me to reply. The box was then placed before me.

The gold and reds perfectly complemented each other, traversing through hundreds of years to now stand before my eyes. I could acutely feel the complexity and magnificence of this gold hairpin.

However, tonight was not a night of antique appreciation. Every act, every action of mine might contribute to whether or not the cooperation between the two companies will come to pass in the future…

I subconsciously turned to Evan. He smiled faintly, nodding his head in what seemed like encouragement.

The nervousness I felt instantaneously dispersed somewhat. I requested a set of gloves from the suited man, putting them on before carefully cracking the gold hairpin in my palm.

MC: Well… if you’ll pardon my inadequacy.

MC: Judging from the appearance and the workmanship, this filigree dragon pattern inlaid with the jewellery should have been made in the Ming Dynasty, during Wanli's reign.

MC: The gold and silver accessories during that time were richly patterned and intricately pieced together. They're often made through carving methods like this, alongside hollowing methods.

MC: I've once seen a similar gold kissing prochilodus hairpin with a self-defence mechanism.

MC: It had a silver needle hidden in a hollow compartment at the end, which can be released when required.

MC: I think this one’s the same as well.

Saying so, I tried to recall how the mechanism worked and where it was located from a book I’d seen in the past. Sure enough, I managed to find a catch at the very tip of the dragon’s tail.

MC: Maybe down here?

MC: The material used on this particular part is different from what the rest of the hairpin is made of, which means that this is most likely the place where the trigger’s hidden.

Zee: Oh? Then how about you show us, Miss (Y/n)?

MC: But this is just a hypothesis of mine, and this gold hairpin is way too valuable to be poking around with…

Zee: No matter. All hypotheses require to be tested. Besides, you’ve intrigued me.

MC: I’ll… I’ll try then.

Under everyone’s watchful gazes, I focused all my concentration on the gold hairpin in my hand as I gave it a thorough check through.

MC: There’s a small metal latch to the left of the ruby at the bottom. That should be the trigger!

Hearing that, Zee merely raised his eyebrows, as if awaiting my next move.

Is he… waiting for me to trigger it?

I was nervous because I didn't know whether it'd really make a silver needle slide out; so much that my back was covered in a sheen of nervous sweat. I took in a deep breath, trying my damndest to curb the tremor in my hand as I reached out towards that one particular ruby.

Just as I was about to touch the trigger, a hand placed itself atop my wrist, holding me back.

Evan: Allow me.

I could acutely feel his slightly cooler body temperature even through the gloves I wore.

Having said that, he too, requested a set of gloves before taking the gold hairpin from my grasp.

Evan: Here?

MC: Yeah…

Evan carefully angled the end of the hairpin so that it faced the inside of the jewellery box before gently pressing on the mechanism's trigger…

All we heard was a slight swoosh as a silver needle revealed itself against the silk cushions that padded the box under everyone's watchful gazes.

MC: !

I drew in a long, deep breath, shooting Evan a grateful look, which he returned with a smile.

He placed the gold hairpin back into the jewellery box before turning back to Zee.

Evan: Your return gift certainly does have exquisite workmanship, Mr. Zee. Thank you, I love it.

Hearing what Evan said, Zee, who had been leaning back into his chair with his eyes closed, suddenly perked up and leaned forwards with the sides of his mouth raised.

Zee: Why, don’t give me all the credit here. If Miss (Y/n) hadn’t found the mechanism, I wouldn’t have ever known that this little thing had a catch to it.

Zee: Looks like I should talk to her more, given the chance. I believe that we share a lot of common interests.

Zee: How about… we get Mr. Lu to specially authorize you to be my assistant during my stay here in Guangqi City?

Zee: If so, then we'll have more opportunities to talk and work together with each other.

Zee raised the goblet in his hand, gesturing at me.

For a while, I couldn't find a way to refuse him as I subconsciously raised my wineglass along with him, preparing to take a sip out of it.

Suddenly, Evan's hand cane upon mine, removing the glass from my grasp.

Evan: Thank you for your appreciation.

Evan: Although… she's a brilliant Designer of ours, so she has her responsibilities as well as her work arrangements.

Evan: If there is a need, I can always elect someone better and much more suited to be your assistant.

Evan's curvy eyes still held a smile within them, yet what came out from his mouth was an undeniable refusal towards Zee's request.

The red wine swirled within the glass as two glasses clinked together with a crisp and clear sound.

I could faintly see a tinge of dark red mixed into the bottom of his eyes. Perhaps it was an illusion caused by the candlelight, or perhaps of the reflection from the dark red wine within the glass...

Zee glanced at me, unfazed. His fingers slowly trailed along the rim of his cup. His smile returned to his face after a moment of silence.

Zee: I’ll have to trouble you then.

Evan: Not at all.

Zee: I'm not trying to make things hard for anyone here, but who knows, we might have another chance to work together in the future.

Zee: All beauty in this world requires time to ferment and brew like fine wine, and I'm not against waiting.

Evan nodded, smiling humbly at him. However, the edges of his eyes, slightly curved upwards in a smile, held a faint, yet dangerously sharp glint to them.

Evan: How about we add a little value into your time of wait instead of wasting the time that passes doing nothing?

Evan: I’ve heard that Zeal is expanding into the global market as of late. I do have a suggestion if you’re interested…

Zee narrowed his eyes into a pensive smile. There was a sly scheming glint in his long and narrow eyes as he did the math

Zee: You’ve really done your homework, Mr. Lu. Do share with the class.

He leaned forward, peaking with interest. A rush of nervousness hits me, but just as we were about to enter the main topic...

A vibrating sound suddenly sounded. Zee held up his phone, glancing at it, before turning back to us with a smile.

Zee: I’ll go pick this call up. You don’t mind, do you?

Uncle Pan responded in the affirmative, and I hurriedly followed suit, shaking my head together with Evan.

Zee pushed the door open and left. I didn’t know if it was because my nerves had been too highly strung in nervousness earlier, or if it was due to the temperatures running higher within the dining room, but I suddenly felt a bout of dizziness hit me.

Should I take this chance to go outside for some fresh air?

❖ Choice A: Do nothing

I looked out at the rustling leaves outside the window, swaying in the wind, slightly hesitant.

Evan: Want to go out and stretch your legs?

Evan’s voice suddenly sounded by my ear, making me turn and look up.

He was always like this, easily seeing through my thoughts, yet remaining a comfortable distance away as he asks for my opinion.

MC: Yeah… I feel a little cooped up in here.

Hearing this, Uncle Pan only smiled.

Mr. Pan: Take her out for a walk then, young Lu. The scenery outside is beautiful, if I must say so myself.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

After thanking Uncle Pan, Evan led me out to the veranda.

The white sheer curtain fluttered along with the wind with the soft moonlight dancing quietly on top of it. Everything was calm and serene.

The air was filled with the faint fragrance of flowers. I stretched my neck, peering down. There was a large bed of roses blooming in the gardens down below.

I braced both hands on the railing, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply.

Evan: Feel better?

MC: Much better!

Evan smiled gently, but it soon turned into one of concern.

Evan: I can send you back first if you're uncomfortable with the dinner party.

MC: ...Did I cause trouble for you?

He shakes his head, gently stroking the top of my head.

Evan: No. You've done brilliantly.

Evan: It's just… I don't wish to see you push yourself, even if it's only out of your concern for me.

MC: Right…

The pent-up frustration in my head seemingly subsided upon hearing his words.

What’s there for me to worry about when I have him by my side?

I lowered my hands from the railings and turned towards the direction of the dining room.

MC: But, I think I'll accompany you till the end of this dinner party.

Evan was stunned for a while before he smiled and offered me his arm.

This time, I took his arm without hesitation as we headed further down the corridor side-by-side.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Zee had already returned to the dining room by the time we got back.

Evan and Zee both continued their precious discussion about working together and the dinner party soon ended smoothly without a hitch.

☆   NORMAL END: Fading Exit   ☆   "Next time, keep up and stay sharp!"

❖ Choice B: Stay in the private dining room

Although Zee has left, he'll probably be back shortly. The first half of the dinner party's over, so I just have to pull through for a while more.

I breathed a light sigh as I tucked the loose strands of hair back behind my ear, trying to relax.

Noticing this, Evan inclined his head.

Evan: Relax. It's fine.

MC: ...Okay.

The tense atmosphere within the dining room lightened up with Uncle Pan's warm hospitality, and Zee soon returned.

The waiter continued serving the next set of dishes. One exquisite dish after another was slowly placed before me, and they all tasted pleasantly divine.

In the end, Zee never once broached the topic of an assistant again.

The night grew on as we walked out of the victorian-style townhouse. The waiter already had our car prepared and waiting for us.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Upon reaching my apartment building, Evan got out of the car, holding the door open for me. He stood under the streetlights, looking at me.

Evan: Rest earlier today.

After making my way upstairs, I leaned out of the window and waved as I watched his car disappear around the corner of the road.

My phone vibrated not long after the car disappeared from my field of vision.

Picking it up, I saw that it was a message from Evan.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Evan (SMS): Good night, sweet dreams.

I held my phone, smiling as I inputted the same words into it.

MC (SMS): Good night, Evan...

☆  NORMAL END: Bystander   ☆   "Sometimes, opportunities lie beyond the light at the end of the tunnel through the cracks of the willow's shade…"

❖ Choice C: Head out to the veranda and get some air

I took the chance and excused myself from the room, coming out to the veranda in hopes of easing my nerves.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

The night breeze up at the veranda was cooling. It blew off the heat that had been created from my restlessness and felt utterly refreshing.

After taking in a couple of deep breaths, I patted my face and prepared to go back inside. Much to my surprise, I turned around only to be met face-to-face by none other than Zee himself.

Zee: Miss (Y/n), what a coincidence to see you here.

He smiled as he strolled up to me. I subconsciously took a step backwards. Noticing this, Zee's smile widened.

Zee: I do hope you weren’t bothered by the incident earlier. Is that why you’re purposely trying to avoid me, Miss (Y/n)?

I hurriedly shook my head, slightly raising my head to meet his gaze.

MC: Surely, you must be joking, Mr. Zee. I just came out for some air and was just about to head back in.

Zee had a playful glint in his eyes. He lifted his hand to his chin, suddenly moving forwards to block me off.

Zee: Why such a hurry? Care to accompany me for a walk?

MC: But Uncle Pan and Mr. Lu are still waiting for us back inside…

Before I could finish, Zee purposely moved even closer, his eyes narrowed into a close eyed smile.

Zee: Looks like you trust Mr. Lu a great lot, Miss (Y/n). I wonder… Just how much do you know about his past?

MC: What are you implying, Mr. Zee?

Zee: There's no need for you to be afraid, Miss (Y/n). The more approachable a person,  the higher the chance that they're hiding another side of them.

Zee: They do say that "Someone of talent is free to choose their own master". And it seems like you are completely unaware of Evan's past.

Zee: And with someone as talented as you, Miss (Y/n)... I cannot bear to leave you in the dark.

He presumptuously sized me up in such a smarmy manner that it was unsettlingly uncomfortable.

I tried to bypass him and head in the direction of the dining room, but he'd seen through me and moved his body to block off my escape.

A sort of unease that stemmed from being forced to do something welled up on me. I wanted to flee, yet I didn't dare to refuse him outright.

What should I do now?

Just as I was trapped between a wall and a hard place, I heard a familiar set of footsteps sound from the other end of the hallway.

Raising my head, I saw a reassuring figure headed straight for us.

Evan!

He walked straight up to us, reaching out to place his hand around my shoulders before pulling me back to his side with a little force.

I raised my head, looking up at him. Those eyes of his, usually as warm and gentle as jade, were now slightly dark. There was an unknown emotion flickering within the bottom of his eyes that I couldn't make out.

Evan: So this was where you were, Mr. Zee.

The corners of Zee's lips slowly upturned into a smile, although that didn't quite reach his eyes, which were clearly glinting in displeasure.

Zee: Mr. Lu. I only wanted to have a nice chat with her, so what is the meaning of this?

Zee: I know that she's someone close to you, but you can't go making all the decisions for her like that.

Zee: Actually, she has just agreed to become my special assistant during my stay here at Guangqi City. What!?

Zee had effortlessly told a lie, with not a trace of it to be seen on his face. He raises his eyebrow and turns to look at me.

I steeled myself, forcing a polite smile onto my face.

MC: Surely you must be joking, Mr. Zee. Antiques and managing daily schedules are not things that I specialize in, so there's no way I can ever become an assistant of yours...

Zee's countenance darkens upon hearing this. His eyes landed on me as he seemingly contemplates something.

I don't know whether it was because I was too nervous, but I could feel my shoulders trembling ever so slightly. Evan calmly drew me closer to him, the amiable smile remaining ever-present on his face.

Evan: If you require an assistant, then I shall personally arrange one for you.

Evan: It is merely a matter of picking out the right candidate for the job. However, please do give me some time to make a good selection for your needs.

Looking at the expression Evan had on his face, Zee suddenly lets out a loud laugh.

Zee: Hahaha. Alright. Beautiful women are one a plenty in this world, and it looks like you're not willing to forsake this treasured one of yours.

The smile was still on Evan's face, but this time, he'd slightly narrowed his eyes.

Evan: Now, you're mistaken, Mr. Zee. (Y/n) doesn't belong to anyone at all, so any talk of "forsaking" will never come to pass.

Evan: Uncle Pan is still waiting for us inside the dining room. We shouldn't keep him waiting.

Not another peep came from Zee as he turned and walked back to the dining room in large strides.

It was only when he'd completely disappeared from our view that Evan let go of me and faced me with a thoroughly concerned look.

Evan: You okay, (Y/n)?

I shook my head. My heart was still wildly pounding.

Evan: I apologize for making you face that sort of predicament alone.

Evan: It won't happen again. You have my word.

The panic in my heart gradually subsided. I shut my eyes tight and fought against the stuffiness of my nose as I tried not to cry.

MC: Thank you, Evan.

Evan's expression gradually grew softer. He raised his hand, gently patting my back.

Evan: Don't worry. We're the only ones here now.

Evan: Enjoy the wind a little more with me, then we can head back in together.

MC: Okay...

I knew, deep down. He wasn't here to enjoy the wind at all, but rather, he'd used it as an excuse to allow me, in all my embarrassing glory, some time to calm myself down.

The strength behind the hand on my back brought about a comforting warmth, settling my taut nerves.

The moonlight was akin to water, shrouding us within its silvery embrace.

❖☆————— ⊹ Oblique Curtains of the Night⊹ —————★❖

⊹ Previous Part: (Chapter 1-1: Unexpected Request) ⊹ Next Part: (Chapter 1-3: Strike in the Dark )

[beewolfwrites]

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter 15: Love and Squalor

Helloo again! Lots of Chishiya in this chapter, because frankly there can never be enough of him. 

If you’re only just reading this fic, this is a Chishiya x OC/Reader fanfic, and you can find all the chapters, including this one, here on AO3. 

Enjoy :)

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

‘Get out.’

The words stung like frost against my bare skin. This coldness was achingly familiar. I had heard it once before on the roof when I had asked about his injury and tried to touch him. Several subject changes later, the distrust had finally thawed. And now, we’d come full circle again.

It was impossible not to stare at the reddened bandage wrapped around his waist. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I didn’t say you could come in here. Get out.’

I blinked away tears, determined not to let him see. There was no way I could go back out there with Niragi was prowling the halls looking for me. I met Chishiya’s stony glare and shook my head.

I’m not going out there.

At that moment, Niragi’s gleeful voice sounded from somewhere in the hallways. ‘Come on out, Shorty, and maybe we can finish what we started. Wouldn’t that be fun?’

Chishiya’s jaw tensed slightly, but only for the briefest second before returning to its apathetic state. Placing the gauze back into the first aid kit, he muttered, ‘get under the bed and don’t make a sound.’

I frowned, silently asking him why.

‘Unless you’d rather be caught by him?’

No. Not that. Anything but that.

Having made my decision, I pulled away from the door and got to the floor. Still clutching the copy of Wuthering Heights in one hand, and almost banging my head on the bedframe, I scrabbled under, making sure to stay away from the edges where someone could see. It was very, very cramped, and claustrophobia was creeping up on me from every recess, but Chishiya must’ve had a reason for telling me to do this. I had to trust in that, even if I didn’t completely trust him.

Several bangs shook the door, and I gulped, knowing exactly who was behind it. It was as if Chishiya had somehow predicted what would happen. There was a rustle of clothes as he zipped up his hoodie before going to open it.

Before Niragi could begin saying anything, Chishiya spoke. ‘Don’t waste your time, she’s not in here.’

‘Oh?’ Niragi sneered. ‘If you know why I’m here, then she must be in here.’

‘Has it occurred to you that the entire Beach can hear you shouting and causing a fuss?’

There was a click, presumably of Niragi’s rifle. ‘Oi, don’t even think about pissing me off. I know she’s in here. She’s your little pal, and she disappeared right around your room.’

I closed my eyes, praying that I could melt away into the darkness under the bed.

There was a slow, annoyed exhale, followed by Chishiya’s voice. ‘You can come in and see for yourself if you want. But there’s no point.’

Don’t invite him in!

I froze, scared even to breathe too loudly. The door creaked as it swung open, and from the slither of light under the bed, I could see Niragi’s boots as he waltzed through the room. He flicked on the lights in the bathroom and peered into the closet, before circling back.

Niragi cocked his rifle, letting out a half-laugh. ‘I guess it doesn’t matter. I’ll see your friend again soon enough, and next time she won’t get far.’

There was a shuffle and a click of the door as the footsteps disappeared. I released the breath I’d been holding, and all my muscles relaxed, sinking into the soft carpet.

He’s gone… for now.

Chishiya’s sandalled feet appeared at the edge of the bed.

‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t stay there all day.’

It was hard to tell whether the irritation in his voice was genuine or just put on to make me uncomfortable. I forced myself to ignore it as I climbed out from under the bed. Chishiya was perched on the end, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, but his gaze rested on the wall opposite rather than on me.

‘You can’t hide from him forever.’

I sat down on the duvet, awkwardly playing with the book in my hands. ‘I know.’

When I didn’t move, Chishiya finally turned to me. ‘You know you can leave.’

‘I know that too,’ I said. But whether it was because of Niragi, or because of something else, I found that didn’t want to leave. ‘Why don’t I help you? You know, with…’ I gestured to his side.

This time, the coldness had disappeared from his voice, but the distrust was still evident. ‘I don’t need your help.’

The way he phrased it didn’t go unnoticed. It wasn’t that he didn’t need help; he didn’t need my help. I lacked any medical experience to be of use to him, but that didn’t mean I was going to give up. Back in the Hunting Season game, when he’d tumbled over the fence, and I’d felt the weight of him on top of me, I knew he was in serious pain. Chishiya wasn’t a fan of physical contact, so the fact that it had taken him a good minute to get up was what gave him away.

And even then, he’d still trailed around a shopping mall after me.

Even then, he’d held up his end of our bargain.

I could at least try and do this.

‘Fine then,’ I insisted, ‘you can guide me. It can be like a lesson, since I’m more likely to get injured in a game than you. If I know the basics, I won’t need your help again like I did in the pharmacy that time.’

His expression filled with callous amusement. ‘In other words, you feel guilty. And now you’re trying to convince me to let you repay me in some way.’

I knew I’d been obvious in how I felt about what happened, but it still stung to hear him talk about my guilt as though it were one big joke to him. ‘Maybe… is it working?’

‘I suppose if Niragi shoots you, you could patch it up rather than coming to me.’ The words were softly spoken yet calculating. He gestured to a bowl on the bedside table. ‘You need to fill that up with water. Boil a kettle to sterilise it first.’

Does this mean… yes?

Smiling from ear to ear, I told him he wouldn’t regret this. Ditching the book on the bed, I picked up the kettle and filled it with water from the bathroom, leaving it to boil while I washed my hands meticulously using the techniques I’d seen on posters in public bathrooms.

He’s only now trusting me enough to do this, I thought. If it gets infected, he’ll kill me.

I reached for the towel on the back of the door, then stopped. They didn’t use towels in hospitals; it was far too unhygienic. ‘What can I use to dry my hands?’ I called out. ‘Your towels are too germy.’

‘My towels are always clean,’ his voice drawled back in response. ‘And there are gloves here, so it doesn’t make any difference.’ I could practically hear him calling me an idiot just through his tone alone.

When I returned, he was holding out a small box of sterile latex gloves that looked awfully like the ones in the medical room. He must’ve stolen them for himself. He had also removed the old bandages and the dressing underneath, revealing a large tear in the skin beneath his ribs. It was no longer bleeding, but it still looked painful.

‘We’re using water to clean it?’ I asked, taking the kettle and pouring the boiling water into the bowl to sterilise it as much as possible. ‘In the pharmacy you used antiseptic first.’

‘Ah. That’s because I didn’t have water or saline.’ He said, as I disappeared into the bathroom to drain out the hot water and replace it with cool tap water. ‘And also, because I was curious about something.’

He always seems to be curious about something.

‘And what was that?’ I returned, balancing the bowl of water in my lap as I sat close to him on the bed. Close enough that I could see the goosepimples on his arms, and the way his pale hair lightly brushed his skin.

He smirked. ‘I wanted to see whether you would cry.’

Even though I was mildly insulted, I knew there was more to than that. At the time he was trying to recruit me to the Beach, so it was more likely he wanted to see whether I was resilient enough to deal with a bullet graze. ‘And did I pass your little test?’

‘Well… you didn’t cry,’ he said. ‘Although you bit your hand instead, which was just as stupid.’

I was used to him making me feel insignificant by now, but that didn’t mean I was willing to put up with it. ‘You know, calling me stupid is the same as calling me an idiot. And you were the one who said I was intelligent enough to be useful when you brought me to the Beach.’

I took a cloth out of its packaging and submerged it in the bowl to dampen it. Moving slowly and applying only the lightest pressure, I began gently cleaning the wound. With every cold touch of water, his muscles tensed.

‘That’s true,’ he said. ‘And yet you don’t know how to treat a basic injury.’

I couldn’t help but smile.

I suppose even Chishiya can be wrong sometimes.

‘I know how to treat an injury,’ I told him. ‘But I don’t know how to do it properly, and it’s not like we have much modern medicine here to help us.’ I paused, thinking back to before the Borderlands. ‘It’s also because I’m not especially smart.’

His only response was a huff of air as I dabbed the cold rag against his skin, removing traces of dry blood. From his silence, I could only assume he was waiting for me to explain.

‘My brother is a psychologist. He once said to me that being smart doesn’t make you intelligent.’

‘That was smart of him,’ Chishiya commented.

I hummed in agreement. ‘He is smart. My dad never made him feel that way though. He always said my brother wasn’t cut out for psychology. He went and proved him wrong though.’

It was hard to ignore the intimacy of being so close to Chishiya right now. At times, our skin was almost touching, but it never quite made it.

Don’t think about it.

‘But my brother was right about what he said. A smart person might know how to treat a wound because they’ve studied it. They’ll study loads of subjects and gain a lot of practical skills. They ace all the exams because they remember all the answers.’ I paused, smiling. ‘But being intelligent means questioning the answers… looking at thing differently… and when you don’t know something, you’ll find a solution that’s completely outside of the box.’

As I spoke, I could feel Chishiya’s eyes on me, watching my every move. He could have just been wary, except it didn’t feel that way. Rather than his cruel, calculating stare, this seemed closer to passive interest.

‘Take the Borderlands for example,’ I said. ‘A smart person would say that it can’t be God who’s behind all of this craziness, because God doesn’t exist. We’ve seen outer space, and it’s not rational to think that there’s a God out there sitting on the clouds. But an intelligent person would know that even if we can’t prove God exists, we also can’t prove that God doesn’t exist. So, they’ll consider every possibility at once.'

Even just talking about this was comforting. It made me feel like I was carrying my brother’s words with me. I only wished I knew where he was.

Chishiya had been so silent that when he spoke, it completely took me out of my thoughts. ‘And what about me?’ He asked. ‘Would you pin me as smart or intelligent?’

I rinsed the cloth in the now pink water, taking a moment to think my answer through carefully. ‘Probably a crazy mixture of both. Sometimes, I wish I knew what’s going on in your head. Only, I can’t read you at all. It scares me.’

‘Everything scares you.’

‘Okay, okay. Let’s not go there,’ I brought the cloth closer to Chishiya’s skin once more.

‘That’s enough.’ He flinched away from it. ‘The water’s freezing.’

‘An eye for an eye,’ I said, grinning, as I dropped the cloth back into the water. ‘Consider it repayment for trying to make me cry.’

The corner of his mouth curled. ‘Touche.’

Gesturing to a tube of antibiotic ointment, he talked me through the correct amount to use. Even through gloves, touching his skin felt uncomfortably intimate, although perhaps I was just too easily embarrassed. Chishiya didn’t seem to mind, or at least, he didn’t pay it much attention.

‘You never told me why you wanted to make me cry,’ I said, trying to break the ice.

He pointed at a dressing wrapped in clear, sterile packaging. ‘I wanted to gauge whether you would survive in a world like this.’

Bingo! I was right.

‘I thought that much.’ Unwrapping the dressing, I carefully positioned it against his skin so that the sticky edge wouldn’t catch on the wound itself. ‘I’ve survived so far. Isn’t that enough?’

With two fingers, he flicked me hard on the forehead. Caught by surprise, I could only blink up at him, confused, as I rubbed the stinging skin with the back of my wrist.  

‘Of course not,’ he replied. ‘It’s only enough when you get to return to the real world. And you’re still too naïve. No wonder Niragi’s made you into such an easy target.’

Immediately, my mood soured at the mention of that name. Niragi wasn’t going to stop until he’d gotten what he wanted, and I was running out of ways to avoid him. ‘What do you think he meant before?’

‘I’ll see your friend again soon enough, and next time she won’t get far.’

The words still echoed in the room. He was planning something.

Chishiya hummed as he pulled his hoodie back on. ‘I have a theory, but it’s almost game time,’ he said. ‘Your visa expires tonight.’

How does he know mine expires?

I raised a brow, confused, but if he noticed, he didn’t ask or explain. Dismissing the thought, I focused instead on how much more at ease I felt now that he was no longer shirtless, even if Chishiya himself didn’t seem to care about being so exposed. Although I kind of wanted to stay and enjoy talking to him more, I didn’t want to push my luck. It was a marvel he had even let me stay this long. Picking up my book, I thanked him for distracting Niragi earlier, and left.

It was only when I got half-way down the hall, staring at the book, that I realised I’d forgotten to ask him about the line of text.

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

As darkness spilled through the windows of my room, I knew it was time. After Niragi’s words earlier, I had a bad feeling about tonight’s game. I couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but I just knew something was off.

To be on the safe side, I took the taser from its drawer and pocketed it before heading down to the lobby.

I squeezed my way to the table at the front and took my slip of paper, making a mental note of the group number. Searching the room, it didn’t take long before I spotted Chishiya and Kuina on the other side. They were leaning against a wall and staring at something I couldn’t see. I scanned over the crowds until I realised what, or whom, they were looking at.

The boy with messy hair and the climber girl from the Tag game.

Looks like those two teamed up, huh?

Walking towards Kuina and Chishiya, I leaned up against the wall, but said nothing as I watched the pair.

Chishiya clocked onto my presence immediately. ‘So, you’ve noticed them too.’

The climber girl and the boy hugged before parting ways. ‘Of course. I remember them from the Five of Spades.’ Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the cogs in Chishiya’s mind turning. ‘You’re planning something, aren’t you?’

‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘It all depends on how he does tonight. Hatter’s already impressed by the cards he brought with him.’

I didn’t like the look on his face. It was clear he was already creating some kind of strategy, a way of using the boy and the climber girl within our plan. That’s just what Chishiya did; he used you to his advantage and dispatched you without a second thought. It was side of him that scared me, and it made me wonder where I stood. Was I his friend, like Kuina, or perhaps just a dish kept in the cupboard for him to take out and use whenever the occasion suits.

But he gave me those books and a taser to protect myself.

He also patched up my arm in the pharmacy, and later admitted that it was merely a ploy to recruit me to the Beach. Looking at him now, I only wished I knew how to read him.

What am I to you?

‘Kuina,’ he said, breaking the silence that had fallen between us, ‘you’re in the same group as him.’

Next to me, Kuina made a noise of understanding as she already knew what was being asked of her. ‘Leave it to me. I’ll make friends with him and see what he’s made of.’ Nudging me gently, she added. ‘Sorry we couldn’t be in a game together.’

I squeezed her hand. ‘Just make sure you come back.’

‘Got it,’ Wish me luck!’ Then with a little wave, she left us alone.

Looking over the room, I wondered who else was in my group. It would be better if my group consisted of people I’d never seen or spoken to before, just in case the unthinkable happened. When Kuina had apologised for not being in the same game, I hadn’t felt sorry at all. It was much, much better this way.

There was a shuffle of fabric as Chishiya slid closer, filling the gap where Kuina had been. When he spoke, his voice was low and quiet. ‘結局俺の理論が正しいだった.’

The words caught me by surprise; he didn’t usually speak to me in Japanese unless it was to mock me behind my back.Unfortunately, I didn’t understand anything other than the word for ‘correct’.

What was correct? His theory from earlier?

‘どういう意味か?’ I asked. What do you mean?

Even though he was speaking to me, he was focused on a particular spot on the opposite wall, his eyes amused and sly. ‘そのテーザーをあるか?’ Do you have that taser?

And without having to look, everything clicked.

Lifting my head, I saw my fate resting on the other side of the room. That feeling of dread from earlier returned, creeping over my shoulder and settling heavy in my gut. Niragi was leaning against a wall, his expression triumphant and his eyes trained on me. It could only mean one thing.

This is going to be one hell of a game.

[hookingminor]

three lessons (final) - mat barzal

a/n: here is part 3 and the last installment of the series! I know it’s short but it kinda felt weird titling it “three lessons” and making it more than 3 parts so I'm just ending it here lmao please lmk your thoughts and comments I hope u all enjoyed this

word count: 4k

warnings (18+): loss of virginity, smut

PART ONE / PART TWO

-

Mat didn’t call or text you for two weeks. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He did text you, but it was only to brush you off and make excuses every time regarding why he couldn’t see you.

In hindsight, Mat knew it was a terrible idea. Even now, intrinsically, he knew it was a terrible idea. But men were not known to be logical, and Mat was no exception.

So, he did the only thing he could think of: he ignored you altogether. Complete radio silence for two weeks.

The thing with ignoring you was that it gave him all the time in the world to think. He tried formulating ideas in his mind about how to ask you out, but every one seemed corny.

He contemplated just asking you out, but the threat of rejection scared him too much from pursuing that. He wondered if he should talk to your brother first, but Mat didn’t know how he was going to explain to his captain that he’d secretly been sleeping with his younger sister and now wanted to ask her on a date. That seemed like a recipe for disaster and a sure way to get his ass kicked. And lastly, he also considered just lying to you about your sexual skills just so he’d have a reason to keep seeing you. That one, however, risked offending you, and the last thing he wanted was to make you feel insecure or embarrassed.

Along with pondering about how to hang out with you outside the context of sex, he also thought about being with you within it.

Mat thought long and hard about what he wanted to do during your last time together if he was only given one more opportunity. Many of his thoughts included your hot, wet mouth wrapped around him, a fantasy that he had gotten himself off to more than he’d like to admit. Other thoughts included him taking you from behind, maybe pressed against his wall, or even bent over his couch.

Frankly, there were just too many things Mat wanted to do to you, but he knew he didn’t have much time left. And that was why he was relying on his own charm to win you over so he didn’t have to choose what he wanted to do.

This internal debate raged on inside his head for two weeks, and Mat still didn’t have a clue about how to carry on. On one side, if he came off too strong, he risked you pulling away and breaking things off. On the other side, if he strung you along, he feared you’d only see him as a casual hookup. The last one he was able to bounce off of, but he didn’t want to hide his feelings.

Mat liked to be straightforward with the people he slept with, and sleeping with you while also hoping for more wasn’t straightforward.

And it’s not like he could go to anyone for advice, which he desperately needed right now.

You contacted him a few times to follow up and see when he’d next be available, but it was clear he was either very busy outside of hockey or he didn’t want to see you. Your heart dropped a little when you thought about the latter because you really thought you had a good time together. But maybe that was all in your head and he experienced something completely different.

You hadn’t expected your first time having sex would be phenomenal to him, but you at least thought it would be tolerable. See? This is why you needed the help. You were never going to get good at sex if you didn’t even have someone to have sex with.

After his last rejection, this time saying his family was coming into town, you decided to drop the subject. You weren’t going to beg him for sex, and if he didn’t want to see you, he didn’t want to see you.

So why were you upset at the fact he was ignoring you?

You tried your hardest to push the negative thoughts to the back of your mind. He’d served his purpose and could move on with his life for all you cared. You could be mature about this. You could let it go and continue with business as usual.

But, you also felt the need to pick yourself up a little bit, which is why you decided on a girl’s night out. If Mat wouldn’t sleep with you anymore, you would find someone who would. You just hoped the alcohol would make up for the fact that you didn’t know what you were doing.

Was it a smart choice? No, but you stopped making smart decisions when you asked Mat to help you. What was one more bad choice?

You dragged your roommate from her studying to force her out with you. It was out of character for you to be so excited for a night out, but even though she was skeptical, she didn’t question your intentions.

Dressing yourself to the nines, you perfected every aspect of your look. Even if nothing happened from tonight, you wanted to make it count. After taking a few selfies, making sure to post them to your story, you ordered a car to take you to the club.

“Are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Your roommate asked as you adjusted your boobs in your dress.

“Do you really want to know?” You questioned back, knowing well she wasn’t one to talk about feelings.

“Not really. I don’t feel like playing therapist tonight, but it’s my roomie duty to ask at least,” she shrugged, slipping on a pair of boots.

“Then don’t worry about it. Let’s just focus on getting drunk,” you replied with a wide smile. She gave you an eye roll back but didn’t argue.

-

The second Mat stepped into the club, he knew something was off. He wasn’t sure, but the air around him felt charged with something… he just didn’t know what.

Less than ten minutes later, he figured out what it was. It was you.

He spotted you on the dance floor from his booth dancing seductively with your friend. Mat did a double-take, not actually sure if it was you or if the two weeks without you was finally playing tricks on his mind. He blinked once, twice, three times before he registered it was you.

“Already got your eye on someone, Barzy?” His friend asked with a chuckle, nudging Mat’s side with his elbow. Mat tore his gaze away from you quickly, not realizing he had been staring for so long.

Mat was thankful he was out with some friends rather than his teammates because he would’ve been seared on sight if someone saw him ogling you. Still, he didn’t want to take the chance any of them would recognize you.

“Nah, just looking around,” he said, laughing off the awkwardness.

Mat didn’t dare look back at the dance floor despite how badly he really wanted to. The last thing he needed was his friends chirping him about a woman this early on in the night, especially when that woman was you.

He waited about five minutes and for the drinks to arrive, the guys's attention focused on the beers instead of Mat, before he glanced back.

He found you instantly, but the lustful shock he felt initially was replaced with jealousy and resentment when he saw you were no longer dancing alone. His eyes focused on the pair of hands that were gripping your hips, only a few centimeters from your ass.

Mat tried to suppress the roiling feeling in his stomach when he saw you laugh at something the stranger whispered in your ear. His grip around the beer bottle tightened and he took a long swig, forcing himself to turn his attention back towards the table before it got suspicious.

His friends were talking about the latest Knicks game, but every word they said was going in one ear and out the other. The only thing Mat could think about was how you were less than twenty-five feet away dancing with someone that wasn’t him, how you were laughing with someone that wasn’t him, how you were letting someone touch you that wasn’t him.

He risked another look but regretted it instantly when he saw the same guy was still there.

“Alright, what’s up with you, Barz?” Someone called from the table. He whipped his head back to see who addressed him, finding all of his friends staring at him expectantly.

“Nothing. Just thought I saw someone I knew,” he brushed off casually, “What were we talking about?”

“We were talking about the game,” his friend said, putting emphasis on the ‘we,’ “You were staring at that little thing over there in the tight jeans. So who is she?”

“Just someone I know,” he muttered, taking another sip of his beer.

“You wanna go talk to her? Should we invite her over here?” His friend offered.

“No,” Mat said a little too quickly He closed his eyes in defeat, realizing he’d just given his friends exactly what they wanted.

“Is the infamous Mat Barzal jealous?” A crowd of ‘ooh’s sounded around the table. Mat flattened them all with a glare, but the smirks didn’t fall.

“Just go get her, Mat,” one of the guys said after a moment, “You’re no use to us being pissy all night.” The other guys nodded their agreement, gesturing for him to leave.

“Fine. You’re all assholes anyway,” Mat grumbled reluctantly. He set his nearly empty beer back on the table before pushing himself out of the booth, a chorus of whoops following him as he threaded his way through the crowded dance floor over to you.

Mat found you easily as he hadn’t taken his eyes off you the entire night. He walked up next to the guy who you were currently gyrating against and put a strong hand on his shoulder.

“Show’s over, buddy. Get moving,” Mat yelled over the music, nudging his head towards the door. The stranger turned to give him a funny look, but he quickly backed down when he saw how much space Mat took up. Mat wasn’t in the mood to play games right now, and the guy easily picked up on that.

You turned your head around when you felt the body you’d been dancing with for the past twenty minutes move. Your waist wasn’t unoccupied for long, a pair of hands quickly replacing the ones you’d lost.

“Mat?” You asked in confusion, stopping your dancing to fully face him. Mat kept your body close, though, hands dropping to rest on your ass.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, bending down to say it into your ear.

“I was having a good time,” you replied, annoyed at the way he just cock blocked you.

“With that guy? No you weren’t,” he said confidently.

“I was, actually. I have to talk to someone since you’ve clearly been ignoring me,” you said with an eye roll. He ignored the jab you threw at him.

“It didn’t look like you were doing a lot of talking.”

“I’m surprised you even know what talking is considering how little of it you do,” you snapped, pulling out of his hold.

Mat didn’t let you slip out of his reach, though, hand grabbing your wrist before you could get too far. He knew you were about two seconds from walking away from him, probably for good.

“Then how about we go back to my apartment and talk,” he said impulsively, almost on the verge of begging.

“Now you want to talk?” You retorted, crossing your arms.

“Or we can not talk?” He suggested, hoping the smirk he gave conveyed more than what he said.

“Final lesson?” You propositioned, raising a brow. Mat’s features fell quickly as his heart rate picked up. He didn’t plan on a final lesson, at least not right now, but he knew if you left tonight the odds he saw you again were slim.

“I didn’t really have anything planned yet,” he recovered quickly, “but tonight can be a free pass…”

“So not a lesson?” You countered.

“Oh, it’s a lesson,” he explained, “Just not our last one.”

“You’re playing with fire here...,” you trailed off, faking contemplation as you considered his offer. You knew the second he asked, you were going to say yes. Despite the irritation at the fact he was acting like nothing was wrong, your libido had a mind of its own as it remembered the last time his tongue was on you.

“Trust me, I know,” Mat chuckled, bringing your body into his once again.

“Take me home then, Barzal.”

Mat was already leading you towards the entrance before you finished your sentence.

-

You were pushing Mat backwards towards the couch when you stumbled through his front door. Your hands flew up to push the jean jacket off his shoulders as you both kicked off your shoes in the doorway. He never broke the kiss as the back of his calves hit the couch.

Mat plopped down on the cushions, hands guiding you to straddle his lap. Your fingers gripped the back of his neck as you deepened the kiss and entangled your tongue with his. You gently rocked your hips against his, feeling him harden beneath you. His hand squeezed your ass through your jeans as he audibly groaned into your mouth.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” Mat breathed out when you pulled back and began pressing kisses against his neck.

“I stopped drinking like two hours ago,” you said into his ear, nipping at the skin.

“Okay, I just wanted to make sure before…” he said, ending the sentence in a groan when you sucked harshly at his throat.

“Before what?” You asked, pulling back to look him in the eyes.

Mat’s eyes darkened as he bit his lip contemplatively, bringing his hand up to drag his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Get on your knees,” he stated, moving his hand to cup your cheek.

Your eyes lit up at his order, a sly smirk appearing on your lips. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to eventually getting him in your mouth, and the day had finally come.

Eagerly, you shimmied your body off his, lowering yourself onto your knees in front of him. Mat sat forward a little bit and reached down to grab the hem of your shirt. He lifted it over your body with ease, tossing it somewhere off to the side. You looked up at him with doe eyes, an innocent look on your face as you awaited further instructions.

“Fuck, don’t give me that look or this will be a very short lesson,” Mat cursed.

You didn’t change your features as you asked your next question.

“What do I do first?”

“Take my pants off,” he commanded.

You did as he said, moving your hands to unbuckle his belt and unzipping his jeans. Mat lifted his hips up slightly to help you tug his pants down, bringing his boxers along with them. You pulled them over his feet and tossed them to join your shirt. His cock sprung out at full length, resting against his abdomen. You leaned back on your heels after you freed him, pausing a moment to take it all in.

“Just a disclaimer, but I’m probably not going to be good at this,” you said with a light laugh, hoping your nervousness wasn’t showing.

“I promise just about anything you do will feel good,” Mat chuckled darkly, “And I’ll guide you through it.”

Mat could tell what he said did little to calm your nerves, so he leaned forward and brought your face closer to his. He gave you a sweet kiss on the lips and brought a hand to run through your hair to make you feel more comfortable.

“Just start slow, okay?” He reassured, pulling back to tug his shirt off. You nodded your head and tentatively brought your hand to grasp his dick.

Slowly, you squeezed your hand gently, twisting up and down as you familiarized yourself with him. Mat’s hands reached out to the back cushions, tightly gripping the fabric as you ran your thumb over his tip. You spread the precum over the head of his dick, bringing your thumb to your lips and sucking it into your mouth.

“Jesus, please do something,” Mat groaned, eyes dark as he watched you lick your thumb. He felt two seconds away from combusting and you hadn’t even put your mouth on him yet.

Taking him back in your hand, you held eye contact as you pressed light kisses on his thighs, slowly moving upwards. When you reached his base, you leaned in and licked a long stripe along the underside of his cock all the way to his tip. Mat’s jaw fell slack, but you didn’t give him time to recover as you closed your lips over the head.

You hollowed your cheeks against him, sucking lightly. His hand darted out to tangle in your hair when you sucked him and a deep moan escaped his lips. Mat’s fingers fisted your hair to softly encourage your timid movements.

“Move your hands with it,” he said breathlessly. You listened to his advice and moved your hand in tandem with your mouth.

Mat pressed your head down a little further, careful to not overwhelm you. You took a couple more inches easily, squeezing what you couldn’t reach at his base. When you drew back around his tip, you sucked your lips together tightly and Mat threw his head back against the couch.

“Holy shit,” Mat stammered, his hips instinctively thrusting up, “I’m close.”

You weren’t confident enough you could swallow your first time, so you didn’t take any chances. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin the moment by trying to be bold. Withdrawing your mouth from his length, you finished jerking him off with your hand until Mat’s abs were tensing in front of you. A few seconds later he was coming, coating your chest as his eyes shut and mouth fell open in a silent gasp.

“Fuck, baby,” Mat moaned when he opened his eyes, taking in your swollen lips and freshly fucked face, “I can’t even express how hot you look right now.” Reaching down and picking you up by your waist, he pulled you back onto his lap as he kissed you deeply.

Not caring about the mess between you, Mat hitched your legs around his waist and carried you to the bedroom.

Tossing you on the bed, Mat rushed to the bathroom to grab a washcloth, lobbing it over to you to clean yourself off. He didn’t wait another second before nestling himself between your legs.

“My turn,” he smirked, attaching his lips to your dripping cunt.

-

Mat woke up the next morning to the sun filtering in through his curtains and the sound of your soft snores. He blinked his eyes open, gaze immediately falling down to the sight of you curled into his side and your head resting on his chest.

He brushed the few strands of your hair that had flown up into his face out of the way. Careful not to wake you, he very gently slid out from your grip and used his hand to place your head on the pillow.

Since he’d completely fucked up every plan he originally had by bringing you home last night, he had to think of a new plan.

Mat threw on a pair of sweatpants quickly and silently left his bedroom, making his way towards the kitchen. He figured he didn’t have much time before you woke up and noticed he was gone, so he had to work fast.

-

You woke up to the smell of something burning. Sitting up swiftly, you panicked, thinking the apartment was somehow on fire before you heard the clang of a pan in the kitchen followed by a loud “Shit!”

Confusion etching across your features, you rolled yourself out of bed and slipped on one of Mat’s shirts before padding out into the hallway.

The sight before you was one of chaos. You turned the corner and walked into a war zone. Mat was hunched over the sink, rinsing out a pan that had steam rising furiously into the air.

“What the hell did you do?” You asked with wide eyes, glancing at the amount of dishes that cluttered the counters. Mat jumped back in surprise, pan falling out of his hand and crashing into the sink.

“You weren’t supposed to be up yet,” he said hurriedly, turning his attention to the pan on the stove that has now started to smoke up.

“Were you trying to make breakfast?” You wondered, laughing at his disheveled state.

“Yes,” he replied, “I’m not very good at cooking.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” you chuckled, “Why were you making breakfast?”

“I was trying to impress you, but I can’t cook to save my life,” he explained, turning off the stove.

“Why were you trying to impress me?” Shit, he hadn’t even realized the slip-up.

“Uh, I was meaning to talk to you about that over breakfast,” he said awkwardly, turning to face you.

“Well, since you burned breakfast why don’t you just talk to me now?” You suggested, taking a seat at the counter.

Mat slowly walked his way over to you, stopping when he was standing across from you, only the counter separating you. His eyes focused on the granite as he cleared his throat.

“I was, uh, I was going to ask you if you maybe wanted to go on a date with me some time?” He asked sheepishly.

“Oh,” you replied, both in confusion and surprise.

“Oh?” He repeated, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours.

“I didn’t expect that, is all,” you stated, a blush rising to your cheeks.

“I know we said no strings, but I really want to take you out and, you know, hang out with you without the sex,” he explained. You raised your eyebrows at him.

“Not that the sex is bad,” he rambled quickly, “The sex is great, fantastic actually, I just think you’re cool and want to get to know you better.”

“Why me?” You asked, reiterating the same question he had when you asked him for his help.

“I don’t know,” he sighed, “There’s just something about you, and I want to figure out what that is. I wanted to ask you out after our last, uh, get together, but I didn’t know how to ask you.”

“Is that why you ignored me?”

“I swear I wasn’t intentionally ignoring you,” he said, “I just wanted a game plan before I saw you again, but then I saw you last night and... yeah.”

Your lips twisted up at his last statement as you reveled in Mat’s sudden shyness. You hadn’t expected him to ever be interested in you like this, but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

Mat watched the smile spread across your face, but he wasn’t quite sure how to take it. It didn’t look like you were about to reject him, but he couldn’t be positive.

“You want to ask me on a date?” You gushed, hopping off your seat and walking towards him.

“Yeah, I do,” he smiled down at you, pulling you closer by your hips.

“How does breakfast right sound?” You offered, reaching up to wrap your hands around his neck.

“Right now sounds perfect,” he answered, leaning down to kiss your lips. You must’ve misread the situation because what Mat wanted to be a sweet peck soon turned heated as you deepened the kiss.

Mat moaned lightly when you pulled back, head leaning forward to chase your lips.

“Wait, we still have to figure out one thing,” you chuckled, turning your face so his lips met your cheek instead.

“What’s that?” He muttered.

“We have to tell my brother,” you giggled.

Mat’s head fell against your shoulder as he let out a disgruntled groan.

“Maybe we can wait a little bit until then?” He teased.

You laughed loudly at the way his brown eyes widened to give you what you assumed was his attempt at a puppy-dog look.

“Yeah, we can wait a while.”

[narrators-journal]

Back in the game

this might be a bit iffy, but I tried my best! It's been a while since I wrote a smut collection, so I thought I'd through my lovely horndogs a bone and give you some porn with plot lol. It's a bit short, but I hope you enjoy it! Also, I tried my best to make this as gender-neutral as possible, so I apologize if anything is messed up.

God Ango felt so stupid. This whole plan was kind of stupid, but his therapist had encouraged him to get out more, spend the month or so of time he had off of work possibly dipping his toes back into the dating pool after a long stretch of abstinence. So, he'd gotten himself a dating app and gave dating a shot to try and fill his uncharacteristic free time. Surprisingly, it had helped to at least give him something to do, but it also brought up other issues. Why am I trying to meet new people?! They'll just hate me, abandon me, or worse! I'll betray them. Thankfully, when Ango brought these stubborn thoughts up to his therapist, they were able to help him deal with them, to identify them, and put a stop to the negativity. So, when he got a bite on the dating app, he bit the bullet and tentatively tried to get to know the new person and actually go out with them.

That was why the government employee now sat in a cafe, tearing a napkin into tiny pieces to keep his hands busy while waiting for his date to finally appear. They were the first nibble of interest he'd gotten on the app that he hadn't ignored, and he'd spent a week messaging them back and forth, reminding them repeatedly of his usual work schedule, his inexperience with dating, and everything else that was a usual turn-off when looking for a partner. But, despite all of his warnings and shortcomings, they'd agreed to a coffee date, so he was sat in a cafe hoping they weren't going to ditch him or something. This is going to be fine. I deserve to make connections again, He told himself, shredding more of the tissue trapped between his nervous hands, I deserve to have a life outside of work. Right?

However, just as he was beginning to mull over the thought of going home, someone tapped on the table he sat at, making the poor man jump.         "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," an attractive (s/c) person chuckled, looking back at the wide-eyed government worker with (e/c) eyes and a friendly smile while Ango cleared his throat and did his best to swallow the awkward lump in his throat,         "U-uh...(y/n) (l/n)?" he asked after a moment, relaxing for a moment when you nodded and then gestured for you to sit in the chair across from him. Once you had, the both of you sat in tense, awkward silence for a while until you spoke,         "So! What exactly do you work on in the government? Can you tell me, or is it a secret?" You hummed, beginning to dust the shreds of napkin he'd collected in front of him into your hand to go toss into the trash while he formulated a safe-to-say response.

After that, Ango slowly relaxed into a more natural conversation with you, finding that he enjoyed simply chatting and learning about you. So, as the noon light was beginning to dip into the beginnings of nighttime and the two of you were walking out of the cafe, still chatting, he decided to ask,         "Do you maybe want to go on a second date at some time? I still have a few weeks of my break left," He busied himself with cleaning his glasses while you thought,         "Sure! I'd love to have another date, this was fun." You agreed, smiling brightly at the anxious brunette, sending a shockwave of giddy, childish joy he hadn't felt in years through his body.

Maybe this wasn't an awful idea after all.

[be-gay-do-heists]

OKAY finally finished with eliot hand pain hurt/comfort fic, and i couldn’t actually decide whether i preferred it in second or third person POV, so i’m going to put the second person POV under the cut here, and make a separate post with the other version so folks can read which they prefer. nothing is different between the two besides the POV !

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Contrary to what the four crazy people you spent your time risking your life for nowadays thought, you didn’t like the pain.

There was nothing cleansing about it, nothing satisfactory. A ringing hit to your jaw didn’t feel like penance. The actual protection aspect was a different story. Standing like a wall between your people and danger, there was nothing that made your ribs ache with pleasure like that; a wall didn’t feel, didn’t think, it was just an immutable fact. You were an immutable fact. The problem was that the wall-as-you, or perhaps the you-as-wall, had to become human again sometime after the last man went down and the last dollar bill was stuffed into a duffel. To hurt was human, and not just to hurt but to remember the wound long, long after, for it to live in your knees and wrists and between the vertebrae in your spine. Some days— and this was a product of how long after a job it had been, how hard you had pushed—some days were worse than others. The fact that some days the first sound out of your mouth wasn’t even a groan, but a whine, or worse the half-awake pleading for please please make it stop i’ll do anything just make it stop—

No, you didn’t like the pain.

Comparatively, today was a good day. Today, you could get out of bed. Your head and body were blessedly in agreement that it was in your best interests to swing your twinging knees to the side of the mattress, push yourself up onto legs that were sore but stable, with arms that shook only slightly. But compared to your best days, the ones where except for the old shoulder injury which would never let you forget it and the scar on your hip that put a hitch in your giddy-up in all kinds of weather, the days on which except for those you sometimes even forgot the pain, this didn’t hold a candle. Today your hands were so beat and weak that the ache radiated up to your mid-forearm, settled into you all familiar-like and made its home in you.

In the bathroom, you used your wrist to turn on the faucet and stuck your mouth under the water to drink. Holding a cup was off the agenda. Your morning routine was interspersed with winces, not unusual for your post-job bathroom adventures, and if it took you longer to shimmy on the sweats you knew you wouldn’t be getting out of today, it made you appreciate the comfort of wearing them a little more.

Going handless was fine until you were face to face with the fridge, and resisting the urge to growl at it, like that would solve anything. Taking a deep breath, you put a hand on the stainless steel handle, testing your grip. A light flex had you drawing it back like the metal had burned you, like someone had snapped a tight clothespin onto each ligament. You took a moment to pace a couple steps, let out a loud but cathartic expletive, and then wedge your hand between the handle and the door so you could open the fridge with your elbow strength. The feeling of triumph behind your collarbone faded quickly as you scanned its contents and realized there was nothing you wanted to eat, or at least nothing you wanted to hold and eat. The thought of grasping a fork brought another growl to your throat, and you slammed the fridge door to stomp to the couch and throw yourself down, cradling your hands in your lap.

You knew the drill: in an hour, you would grit your teeth and get to up to try and fumble open your bottle of painkillers, and if you succeeded, you would wait another hour for them to truly kick in so you could handle the tv remote, put on whatever game was on, and vegetate on the couch until further notice. The phone you had left on your nightstand rang loudly, fully audible from the other room, blaring out the chorus to “Macho Man” that Hardison had put as your ringtone and you hadn’t figured out how to get rid of yet. If it was important, whoever it was would call again, so you ignored it. Your ire rose when the same noise sang out from the bedroom a couple minutes later, a bit-off groan escaping from your clenched teeth as you levered yourself up to get to it as fast as you could, awkwardly accepting the call and maneuvering the phone between your shoulder and ear. “What?”

“Man, we haven’t heard from you since we split yesterday, I thought we were gonna get a beer downstairs last night?”

You rubbed your eyes with your wrist, frustrated that you had forgotten you were supposed to get together with Hardison the night before. Getting home, washing the sweat and blood off, and falling into bed had seemed like the only goal in your mind. “Look, sorry, I’ve been busy. And if this ain’t important, you—“

“Bullshit. Absolute bullshit, you’re using your tough-guy, bullshit voice. And you actually apologized, so something is double wrong.”

You snarled. “I don’t have— Hardison, I don’t know what you’re talking about, just leave me alone.”

“Too late, we’re already at your place.”

Before you could open your mouth, your doorbell rang, drawing a groan from you. If you were correct about who the “we” was, it seemed stupid to even ring it. Your suspicions were confirmed thirty seconds later as the door clicked open anyways and Parker and Hardison came in, having the decency to at least look slightly sheepish. You had already moved back to the couch, tilting your head back and closing your eyes. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” you growled.

“Excuse us for being worried about your wellbeing, Mr. Suffer-In-Silence,” Hardison scoffed.

Parker leapt onto the couch cushion next to him. “We thought you might have been captured by ninjas.”

“You would know if I had been captured by ninjas,” you muttered. “It’s a very dis— look, you’ve seen that I’m not kidnapped, it’s our day off, can you please leave and let me rest.”

“You still owe us a hangout from last night!” Parker chirped. “Don’t worry, we won’t stay long.” She vaulted back over the couch to go rummage through your snack cabinets, getting into the granola bin by the sound of it. You made a note to restock it before she came back next.

When you next opened your eyes, Hardison was lightly sitting on your coffee table, looking at the hands still resting in your lap. “What’s up with your hands, Eliot?”

Your first instinct was to deflect. You trusted your team, sure, but this was different. They weren’t supposed to know that you had these days. That you weren’t invulnerable. “Nothing’s wrong with them, stop sitting on my coffee table.”

“Mhm mhm, sure,” Hardison said. “Go like this for me?” He wiggled his fingers in a “hey sailor” kind of fashion. Before you could tell him just what you thought about that, Parker’s ponytail swung into the side of your face, the thief reaching down to poke one of your hands faster than you could stop her.

By the time you were able to refocus and pull yourself back from the whiteout of pain, Parker and Hardison were looking at you with open concern, the hacker leaning back slightly, a little pale. You think you may have howled; you weren’t sure. Both your hands were clenched tightly to your chest, wrists together, arms outward, wishbone shaped. You felt just as brittle as one, with their stares on you. You summoned the anger from your throat, the only weapon at your disposal (only half-expecting that it would work, always defenseless when it came to their prodding).

“Can you leave me the hell alone now?”

Hardison looked at you, taking his time formulating his thoughts, but it was Parker who spoke. “Nope.” You turned to her where she was perched on the couch. “You get hurt taking care of us. Now you let us take care of you.”

You looked at Hardison pleadingly, hoping he at least would take pity on you and let you wallow by yourself. You wanted to hide like the trap-escaped, half-dead badger whose den you had accidentally put your foot into half a lifetime ago in the Italian Alps, earning you an earful of hissing that scared the hell out of you. You wonder if you seemed as belligerent now.

Hardison just shrugged and smiled gently. “Hey, you heard the woman.” He leaned forward slightly, just enough in your space to let you feel his warm presence without crowding. “Couldn’t get rid of us if you tried.”

You didn’t want to try, was the thing. It was only that it wasn’t their job to take care of you. It was yours to take care of them. They just seemed to be wholly unaware of this.

“You taken anything for those yet?” Hardison asked, pointing at your hands. He hummed at your slight head shake. “Thought so. Which ones?”

“White bottle, red pills. Only need a half,” you mumbled, slouching. Parker was already up and heading to the bathroom.

“We need to get something you can actually open when this happens, some kind of spring-loaded catch maybe,” Hardison mused. “Alright, let me see them.” He patted his legs, frowning at your growl. “C’mon, none of that. I know they hurt, I’ll be really, really gentle. I won’t even touch without asking.”

You looked him in the eye for the sincerity you already knew would be there, the eagerness to help that (damn him) was one of your favorite traits of his. Hesitantly, you extended your hands, rolling your eyes at him scooting forward to offer his knees to rest them on.

“I assume you got antiseptic and ointment on these knuckles already, so totally disregarding those, even though it sucks. Nothing broken?”

“No, just. Aches. Like a son of a bitch. Can’t make a damn fist. Happens sometimes.”

Parker bounded back in, armed with a glass of water and half a pill in her open hand. “So no jobs for a while. Easy, I’ll tell Nate. Open up.” With a scowl, you took the medication from her fingers with your teeth (gently, gently), and let her raise the glass to your lips, nearly choking as she tipped it a little eagerly, and choking for real when Hardison said, “Whoa, woman, let him swallow.”

“It’s not just the last job, Park, it’s jobs two years ago, or five, or ten,” you managed, once you had your breath back. “Part of the package that comes with the lifestyle. It just happens sometimes, don’t matter what schedule we’re on.”

She frowned. “Still. We shouldn’t be doing jobs if you’re hurt. Nate should know that.”

Hardison leaned forward a little more while you were distracted trying to find the right response to that, that you wouldn’t be doing any jobs at all if that were the case, that Nate trusted you to get the job done no matter what, reaching out to your forearm and stopping just a hair’s breadth shy of touching. You froze, and he did too, meeting your eyes. “It’s ok. I’m just trying something out. Is it alright if I touch you here?” At your tiniest of nods, the hacker placed his fingertips on your arm, rubbing circles so lightly that you almost couldn’t feel it. “Let me know where it starts to hurt, okay?” Hardison applied the slightest pressure as he added his other hand and lightly started rubbing down your forearm. When he got to your wrist, you couldn’t help the strangled noise that partly escaped through your nose, high and strained. He moved away from it immediately, going back to tracing soothing, gentle patterns. “You’re ok, you’re ok. I can work with this, no problem. Where do you keep your hot pads, man?”

“Bathroom, lower right drawer,” you grit out. Parker was zipping off to get it and warm it up before you could even process. Hardison applied a little more pressure with his fingertips, rubbing the meat of your forearm. You breathed out long and slow at how good it felt once the initial ache had ebbed.

“I want to try giving you a hand massage, but I don’t wanna hurt you more than it would help,” he said, pausing slightly. “You up for it? I’m not gonna pressure you either way.”

Your thoughts stuttered, and then bolted in different directions. The feeling that you didn’t deserve this, that this was too much to ask, which had been simmering this whole time leapt to life again. It joined with the wounded, snarling animal part of you that still wanted to hide, burrow down with the covers over your head until your pain faded into the muted background noise of the world. You didn’t even know if a hand massage would work, it might make the pain worse.

But it might be nice, a small, hopeful part of you murmured. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been offered something like this, let alone the last time you had taken the person up. If there was anyone you trusted to do it, if there was anyone you wanted to receive it from, it was these two. How could you refuse them even when your heart hoped so badly for what they were offering?

“Sure, just…” you said as Parker returned with the hot pad, pausing from tossing it hand to hand like a hot potato to fix her stare on you. You licked your lips, swallowed around a dry throat. “Just be gentle.”

“I will be,” Hardison said earnestly, taking the hot pad from Parker to gently maneuver it under your hands, resting on his knees. You tensed slightly as the thief leapt up onto the back of the couch, perching above your head, but otherwise relaxed as the warmth of the hot pad started to loosen the ache in your hands. Hardison started where he had before, applying the slightest pressure to your forearm. Parker ran her fingertips lightly through your hair, humming.

“Your hair is kinda wonky,” she said, fingers catching on a tangle. You winced.

“That’s what happens when you go to bed without brushing it properly, you know that,” you grumbled, breath hitching as her fingertips grazed your scalp. Your breath stuttered again as Hardison hands started working towards the sore meat of your wrist. Your hand began to shake.

“It’s ok baby, I got you,” Hardison murmured under his breath, more soothing sound than words. You cracked open an eye to see him looking between your hands and his phone, playing a video where it was propped on his thigh.

“Man, are you watching hand massage tutorials right now?” you gritted out, doing a poor job of masking your genuine amusement with frustrated disbelief.

He tapped his index finger against your arm lightly. “I’ve been watching videos dude; think you’re so slick, tryna hide your hand pain from me. I just wanna make sure I get it right in real time.”

Parker’s fingers running through your hair more boldly silenced any follow-up thoughts you had, your mind going fuzzy with how good it felt. Without thinking, you insistently pushed your head up further into her touch, making her laugh. The sound reverberated in your chest, leaving you longing to hear it again. Instead a half-whine left your throat as Hardison probed the bottom of your palm, the ache drawing you back to full awareness.

The hacker backed off for a moment. “Sorry, sorry, you still cool to keep going?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you breathed shakily.

“Just tell me if there’s anyplace else that needs to be handled more delicately, or you don’t want me going at all,” Hardison said, putting his clever hands to yours again and taking up his gentle, slow pace. Parker’s fingers had paused in your hair a second, but went back to running through it again, scratching your scalp on every other pass.

Slowly, slowly, the vice of pain on your hands started to dissipate, bone by bone, finger by finger. You don’t know how long you sat there in a haze, as Hardison and Parker patiently touched you, fixated on the single task of caring for you. The thought made the tender space behind your breastbone twinge. When you surfaced from the half-asleep contentment of their efforts, the television was on, Star Trek playing at the lowest volume. You grunted, lifting your head from the couch to look at them sitting beside you, grinning at your movements. Hardison’s warm hand was still in yours, but instead of massaging he was just holding it softly.

“Hey sleepy,” teased Parker, throwing herself over Hardison to get closer and forcing an “Oof!” out of him.

You looked down to your hands, flexing one experimentally, in disbelief at how the ache had faded to an almost imperceptible hum. With the other you tightened your fingers around Hardison’s hand, moving your thumb lightly over his.

“Hey,” you simply said back, a real smile rising to your lips.