#gotta be ready to write some fix it fic

[furiosophie]

They’re quiet for a long moment, just taking drags of their cigarettes before finally stomping them out beneath their boots. It’s only when there’s nothing between them but the night, nothing in front of them but a base that never really sleeps, either, that Soap asks, quiet, nearly dragged away by the wind, “Did ye mean it?”  “What?” “That ye’d follow me.” He doesn’t say anywhere. It feels implied though. Ghost thinks of all the things he isn’t saying. He thinks of the way Soap looked at him when he cut him open. He thinks of how exhausted he is, how ten minutes ago he thought he was hallucinating. How he isn’t fully sure that’s not still the case. “Yes,” he says.

not from the absence | CHAPTER TWO [read on ao3]

COVER/CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4 | CH5

[dobbysnotsureaboutthis]

Very Long Mating Season Pt. 2 - Elevator Shenanigans

Masterlist

WC: 3,203

Description:

You get stuck in an elevator with Alastor and some shenanigans 乁(ಥ ͜ʖಥ)ㄏgo on. Basically, it is a short (shorter compared to pt.1) continuation of pt.1 which you can find here

Warnings:

SEX STUFF again I repeat there is !SEXUAL CONTENT IN THIS FIC! And again, tiny tiny bit of blood stuff, I felt like writing him soft cuz something’s gotta balance all that hardness, also by shenanigans (in the title) I mean !SEXUAL CONTENT!, unedited (warnings sponsored by Vivziepop)

It didn’t take too long for the rest of the hotel crew to realize what happened between you and Alastor. Angel Dust was the first to suspect the two of you, then Husk, before they spread their suspicions to the rest of them.

You did your best to avoid their judgemental (in your mind) stares, laughing awkwardly whenever Alastor would stand a little too close for comfort while they were around. When you were alone, you let him hold you when he wanted, enjoying the cozy cuddle of his hold as he had you in his lap by the fireplace, his one arm petting your fluffy ears and the other holding a book. You let him keep you in his radio tower, swinging your legs aimlessly for hours while he excitedly talked through his broadcast. 

Although he still wouldn’t let you touch his antlers, despite your offer to help him with that itch he kept on scratching. When you asked him why…

“Well my de[e]ar, deer shed their antlers each year after mating season.” 

Which didn’t answer your question, but explained the flaky red strips of gummy fur clinging to his antlers. As a doctor, you’ve seen much grosser things, so you watch him pick at them with curiosity rather than disgust.

But as soon as you saw the opportunity - while he was distracted in a heated argument with Lucifer, who you’ve yet to speak to - you slipped out of the hotel. You would be back, you couldn’t bring yourself to cruelly leave him back there (not that he would let you do so). It would just be after a well-needed break from that abnormally clingy demon. 

After all, you did grow a bit fond of him yourself after the weeks spent constantly in his passionate embrace. But you missed walking freely through the city without an overgrown strawberry attached to your side, and you definitely needed to get back to your job at the office, rather than treating patients in the hotel while a red-eyed demon watched over your shoulder. 

As you’re turning the street to your office, feeling renewed and ready to start the day, you’re stopped by… the sight of nothing.

Your office was gone. All that was left of the humble one storied building was bits and pieces of the cheap gray walls, looking like burnt bread crumbs on a messy eater’s plate. No way. 

“What happened here?” You question a nearby tiny bunny demon in a construction uniform, watching as her yellow eyes flicker rapidly over a blueprint of sorts. 

“Ugh, it’s the same guy again.” 

“What guy?” 

She ignores you, and begins moving away from the wreck that was left of your humble building. You’re not at all thrown-off, being painfully used to her type of behavior. It was rare in fact, to find a single soul down here capable of basic etiquette. You follow her, determined to get some type of answer.

“Can you at least tell me when all the construction is going to be over?” 

“It’ll probably take us a month or so to fix up that tall of a building.” 

Tall? You’re confused for just a second before you notice a ruined building owned by VoxTek across the street of your location. The center had disappeared as though someone took a giant bite out of it. A minute loss for a company as big as VoxTek. Well, at least compared to yours.

“What about the building over there?” You gesture to the empty spot your office used to occupy. “How long is that going to take?” 

“What, you think we just have all the time in the world?”

“...Yes?”

“We don’t bother to fix small buildings like that, they get wiped out all the time.” She snorts. “I don’t even know what that thing was for!”

“That was my office. I’m a doctor. I need it reconstructed, I have patients who need me.”

That makes her lift her head from her blueprint to look at you, clear astonishment and a hint of mockery in her expression. “Seriously? A doctor in hell? That gives me even less reason to fix the darn building, your patients probably kill each other as soon as you treat them!” She reaches up high to pat your shoulder patronizingly, as though you just told her the funniest joke. “Go find yourself another job sweetheart. Maybe you’ll find one in Mr. Vox’s building that we’re fixing up right now.”

And that was that. There was nothing you could do to get them to listen to you, unless you fought fire with fire and resorted to the same type of bloodthirsty violence as them. You weren’t going to do that.

“Oh, fuck you. I hope you fall while working and reconsider what you said about doctors being pointless.” You could still say whatever the fuck you wanted, though.

Now there was only one place you could think of heading to, and that was straight back into the arms of your... “lover” was a term never explicitly stated, but friends would be a severe understatement. 

The doors to the hotel entrance slam open before you could touch the handle, and you’re greeted by a deafening, “Dear, where have you been?” in your ear, a slender, red-sleeved arm hooking over your shoulders and squeezing you tightly. 

“I was trying to check up on my office,” you sigh. Then you look at him reassuringly. “I wasn’t planning to leave you or anything.” 

“I’m not at all worried about you leaving, I knew you’d come back.” He says this, but his tail twitches once. You smile. How endeering that he’s nervous about you leaving. 

“Let me guess, somebody tore down your office?” Vaggie interrupts your conversation seemingly out of nowhere, and you notice the state of chaos the hotel lobby was in as you peer behind her shoulder to get a look inside. 

Charlie is running all over the place, rambling at 100 miles per hour as she practically melts down over the crumbling walls and spilled beverages. A dart of hot pink indicates the tiny maid demon jumping around, giggling and stabbing at parts of the carpeted floor that were on fire. And, perhaps most notably, as Vaggie snags you from Alastor’s hold and pulls you outside, you notice that an entire chunk has been pulled out of the third floor, done in a similar fashion to the VoxTek building you glimpsed earlier. The third floor. Also known as, the only floor with extra rooms you could potentially stay in.

“Are you kidding me? Here too, at the hotel?” 

“Yes. And even worse, it’s only been a day since we heard of this building-eating demon.” She groans. “A day! They fucked up our hotel in the short time you were gone.” 

You bite your lip, brow furrowing at the information. So now, there was truly no place to stay. Well, you could ask Alastor, but you really didn’t want to. After all, he was a stranger to you up until a month ago, and you needed distance away from him to sort out your thoughts. What do you do now-?

A gloved hand squeezes your cheeks, and you’re met with red eyes right next to your face. “Smile, my dear! The fallen buildings are no big trouble, I could fix them up right now if I wished to.” 

“Then could you?” You start to feel hopeful.

His grin widens. “And provide you with your own space, which you will only use to hide away from me? Not going to happen!” 

You briefly think of just walking away right then, but just as you were about to, Charlie joins you at the door. “Oh, good, Alastor you’re here! You have to go fix the third floor right now, it’s really bad!”

His eyes narrowed to slits, still maintaining that grin of his which made him appear hilariously irritated in your perspective. You stifle a laugh and cheer of victory as he reluctantly accepts, knowing that he won’t defy a direct order from the princess of hell. “...Why of course I can.”

He has you on his arm again the second Vaggie lets go of you, humming an old-timey tune. The vibrations from his chest buzz pleasantly against your side, and you relax at the comfortable sensation. Well; it’s not as though you had anywhere to go, so you mindlessly follow his steady pull as he heads for the elevator. You look up, doubtful of its sturdiness at the moment. 

“Alastor, are you sure this thing is safe to go on? You gesture with your free arm at the giant dent in the middle of the doors. “Are you sure we can even open the door?” 

“I have my ways.” With a flourish of his hand, the doors creak open; albeit slowly, and it gets stuck at the halfway open mark. Huh. Doubtful, highly doubtful. 

But Alastor’s looking at you with as innocent of an expression as a face like his can express, and you still feel slightly sorry for leaving him this morning without a word. So you step in, again slowly, because the ceiling of the elevator is smushed in. It’s low enough that you have to duck your head while walking in, and Alastor nearly has to crawl in. He twirls his radio stick behind his back, snapping his fingers to close the doors. You squeeze in front of him to select the button for the third floor. 

As soon as the doors close, you become aware of just how tight the space was. Alastor sits crossed-legged next to you, his knee brushing against your ankle. You stand awkwardly, the lowered ceiling conveniently pushing on the back of your head so that you're staring at your feet. It’s even worse that you could feel him staring at you the whole ride up. He sure had no concept of other people’s personal space, for a man who supposedly guarded his own with an iron fist. 

The elevator’s at the third floor. Great, it’s over. You wait for the doors to open. 

One moment turns to two, then four, then… Why aren’t the doors opening?

“It appears we are stuck!” 

“Seriously? I couldn’t see that! I thought I was hallucinating the whole thing so thanks for confirming!” You nearly scream in frustration, the events of the day finally catching up to you. “What happened to ‘I have my ways’?” You direct your yell at him, arms crossed in front of your chest as you finally meet his gaze. 

He’s grinning at you, but his ears slightly fold back. Great, now you can’t even properly yell at him because then you’d feel bad. You turn around to face the crack of the door, attempting to pry it open to no avail. Pressing the open-door button didn’t work either. And there was no call button, because why would there be a call button in an elevator in hell?

You sink down to your knees to join him on the elevator floor, your skirt pooling neatly around your knees. The singular light illuminating the elevator flickers, and before you could even pray it doesn’t fall, it does. You barely had the time to cover your head with your arms, preparing yourself for the impact.

It doesn’t come. You look up from your hunched position to see that it had landed on Alastor instead. You blink in surprise at his form, frozen in suspense as his head tilts slightly to the right from the weight of the light that now hanged from one of his antlers. His eye twitches with the effort to not flinch at the sensation, and you gasp, realizing that it must’ve hurt due to the sensitivity from the shedding. 

You carefully reach a hand upward, eyes asking him for permission. His teeth had clenched, signifying his pain despite his reluctance to drop the wide smile on his face. 

“Go ahead…” He grounds out through the agony, ears completely flattened and tail nearly vibrating from its rapid twitches. 

Gently wrapping your fingers around the base of the light bulb, you tug at it in small, repeated successions in hope of loosening the stuck object. It loosens just enough to make you think it's working, only for it to get stuck again on a higher ridge. His antlers shift and grow in length, until the tips nearly reach the elevator walls. Even with all the shifting, the light bulb doesn’t budge. 

A pained noise alerts you of Alastor, head dipped and black liquid drooling from his teeth. You concentrate harder on dislodging the offensive gadget - nope, not moving. You couldn’t break the light bulb, who knows the extra damage that would do to him? 

You didn’t notice how you had shifted onto his lap in your effort to reach the stuck object until you felt his claws dig into your waist, threatening to rip open the old wounds that had just begun to scar from your little mating session weeks ago. 

You rack your brain for additional ideas. Then one comes to you. Hmm, kind of gross, but your options were limited enough to try. There was virtually no illumination in the elevator except the soft glow of red from his eyes, and you relocate the light bulb you had let go of through touch alone. You could feel the sharp edge of his nose slot between your chest, making you smile a little as it tickles.   

You part your lips, and lick the smooth surface of the bulb, coating the surface with a thin layer of spit. Smearing the stickiness with your finger, you work it into the crevices where the object met his antler. The slight budge of the material gives you hope that you were doing something. Just a little more…

Beneath you, the deer man shifted relentlessly at your soft ministrations on his antler, fingers working diligently at detaching the object. Soft whimpers barely register to your unsuspecting ears as you focus on your work, letting more saliva pool in your mouth so that you could coat the entire surface with a thicker layer of goo. You slather your tongue all over its smoothness, digging the tip of it into the same crevices over and over. A musky, almost smelly taste of iron infects the point of your tongue and spreads to the rest of your mouth. 

The taste is unpleasant in the way that, if you were served a bowl of the bloody bits with no context, you would probably gag; but the subtle flavor of Alastor peeking behind all the rancid munch led you to willingly take more and more of it into your mouth, as you savor it at the same time you work at the thing clinging to his antler. Periodically, you’re gifted by the squeaky noises of the object losing its grip on his antlers.  

The skin on your waist aches with the clench of his clawed fingers, but you pay the affliction no mind. You vaguely register some hardness pressing into the slot between your thighs, and the familiarity of it all made it difficult for you to recognize its presence. Something about the rhythm of his hips, jagged and shamefully finding solace in your own, was still so ingrained into your mind from the two weeks of heated passion that you found it as natural as breathing, letting his actions fade into the background. 

It feels like forever, as you diligently deliver slobbery licks to the bloody strands of flesh still heated by his body temperature, the soft, blood-matted bits of fur contrasting with the hard texture of his antlers. He had pulled you down to his crotch, desperately grinding into your heat until there was no space left between the two of you. His teeth encircle your shoulder as they dig into the exact imprint they left a day ago, the motion intimate and ritualistic. 

Finally, your ears perk up as you hear a sharp scraping sound from the light bulb, and you let the muscles around your jaw relax, pulling your head back to gently shift the light bulb out with your hands. 

“Alastor, I think I got it out-!” 

You’re interrupted by a feral tightening of his claws on your arms, and the sound of bleating. The noise is broken and animalistic, and his cheeks are apparently flushed even in the darkness. Soft bleats continuously escape his lips; against his will, as indicated by his tense posture. You sat frozen, pussy pressed against his jumping clothed cock, back arching in heated fascination as you feel wet pumps of muffled fluid against your underwear. 

The sensations of his heavy, labored breathing, sweat running in rivulets down his shoulders and stuttering hips finally registers to you, sinking into his hold and letting him handle your willing body as he rides out his high.

He just… came in his pants. 

You simply sit in silence, light bulb still clutched in your hand, as you let him recover while his labored breaths pump into the nook of your shoulder.

“...Is that why you wouldn’t let me touch your antlers?” 

He bares his teeth, the same bleating noise escaping his lips, although without embarrassment this time. Within no time at all, he had pulled your slowly distancing body flush against his own body again. “I’ll answer your curious little questions after I’m done with you.”

Ah, right. You settle yourself into his hold as you mentally prepare for what was to come. 

You forgot that man had no such thing as a recovery time.

—---------------------------------

“The problem got so big that it showed itself. Turns out it was just a little crocodile demon, who was having a fit and got a little hungry while trying to find its mother. We got it down to its original size, and Charlie is working on fixing the broken buildings of the pride ring.” She holds up the tiny crocodile, its eyes glistening in fascination at the red lego in its hands. Was everything red in hell? 

And what was a child doing in hell? 

“Ah, don’t eat that!” Oh, that’s why. You snort as Vaggie wrestles her bleeding mouth from its jaw. Well, you’ve always thought some children were demons on earth. 

“Anyway, what took you and Alastor so long to fix the floor?” She turns to look at Alastor accusingly. “I thought you had powers to help you with these types of things.”

You race to answer her question before Alastor could potentially say something weird. “We got stuck in the elevator.” That was technically the truth. 

Alastor hums a guileless tune, a complacent smile resting on his face. Between his strange wordlessness (only because you threatened him earlier not to speak a word of it) and your suspiciously quick answer, something clicks in her expression. 

“Oh. Ohhh. Ew.” She wrinkles her nose. 

Your face burns in shame as you re-enter the elevator with Alastor. He’s still smiling the same smile, and you’re grateful for the silence until he speaks up, head tilting to one side as he ends your little escapade with one last candid remark. 

“It’s a good thing you’re a doctor dear, not a politician.”

.

.

. 

A/N: So I didn't write them fucking because every time I start a fic, I think of it as being part of the same universe. And they've already fucked in this universe. It doesn't make sense to me to write a full-on sex scene twice in the same universe, especially one with not that much plot, because then it translates as more of a "sex diary of reader and Alastor" (which I MEAN HEY IT COULD BE A THING) and less of a continuation of a story from point A to point B. But with how the fucking is the main point it might as well be a sex diary so... (WHAT DID I TYPE THAT WHOLE THING FOR) Also when I wrote jumping clothed cock I kept picturing his dick turning into a sausage and jump-roping so now you can think about it too (only if you want to (#consent (...I bet you thought about it)))

Taglist(? Never done one of these things before/ Is it a list with one item (in the English language (not programming or whatever else with lists))): @angeldustharmony here’s that pt. 2! ᕙ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ᕗ

[samuelsdean]

If you won't do it, I will.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: you were so engrossed with images of you kissing Reid and him kissing you back that you forgot one detail—the man could wake up at any moment without you noticing. and he did wake up. You just failed to notice, too busy ogling his pink lips.

genre: fluff & angst

word count: 3.7k

author's notes: another tooth-rotting spencer reid fluff because i said so! you can listen to watch you sleep by girl in red & out of my league by fitz and the tantrums while reading this because those were the songs i listened to while writing this and i think they fit really well with this fic.

THAT DARN SUNLIGHT, YOU SHOULD GET YOUR BLINDS FIXED WHEN YOU’RE FREE—THEN IT HITS YOU. You just got it fixed about two weeks ago. You are definitely not in your room.

Scrambling to get up, you were about to jump off whichever bed you ended up in last night when you felt a warm, lithe arm tucked underneath yours, clasping you in a soft embrace like a lover. Now that you think about it, you could feel this person’s hair tickling your chin and their warm breath against your neck.

This is seriously freaking you out. You have no idea who you are cuddling with. Jesus Christ, how many shots did you drink last night? Why would the team let you go home drunk with some guy? 

Gently, you removed the arm wrapped around your waist and slowly pushed away the brunette positioned snugly between your head and shoulder. No way.

The person you are cuddling with is none other than your genius coworker.

Dr. Spencer Reid.

Like any other normal person would do—no person in their right mind would sleep with their coworkers, literally and figuratively—you checked yourself for any presence of clothing. Thank God, you did not completely lose your mind last night and slept with Reid. But it still doesn’t explain why you were wearing his faded Star Trek shirt and one of his pajama pants.

Fucking hell, did he change your clothes for you? You were ready to catch the next plane and disappear at this point.

You were about to start berating yourself for getting into this mess when you noticed how the sunlight made the man beside you look more angelic than usual.

The sun seemed to caress every freckle on his face, the slight pink tinge from the cold morning air, and his hair—although unruly from the tossing and turning during the night—could pass for that of a shampoo model. Pretty.

And his lips.

They looked even more inviting right now, pink and full and parted slightly, as he breathed in and out small puffs of air, finally sleeping soundly following a week of sleepless nights tracking down an unsub. You roamed your eyes once more on his face, starting from his hair and down to where his upper body was covered by an old shirt and the blanket you shared—forgetting your initial dilemma as to how you ended up in bed with your coworker (whom you have a big crush on).

Thank goodness you did not have sex with the one guy you were practically in love with for years. It would be nice to remember every detail of that rendezvous—if that ever happens. You groaned inwardly. This is not the time to fantasize about your coworker, Y/N! You need to get out of bed and out of his house.

But a part of you longs to keep pretending that this is real. That sleeping next to—cuddling, let us be honest—Reid is a usual occurrence. Pursing your lips, you closed your eyes and willed yourself to go back to sleep. Let the future version of you worry about how you will handle waking next to your coworker. Except you could not.

You wished you could tattoo what Reid looked like in the early morning light when he was asleep and without that crease between his brows that seemed to be etched permanently from all the stress of chasing unsubs around the country.

You gotta admit, some days, you yearned for Reid’s eidetic memory. You wished you could have memories of him engraved in your brain that no matter what you do, you could not help it. He would be there. A persistent thought. But then again, you were in too deep with your feelings for the man that you think, even without an eidetic memory, you could definitely recount all your favorite memories with him in a heartbeat.

So, you chose to stay awake.

This is not looking good for you. How else would you explain to someone—your coworker, of all people—who just woke up why you were staring at them while they slept. God, you are down horrendously.

He looked so peaceful like this. Pink cheeks, freckles, and messy hair. He looked so adorable you wished you could pepper his face with kisses and bury your face in his chest. And he is snoring lightly. He is endearing.

You are never getting another chance like this. This will not hurt anyone, right?

Hence, you took in every tiny detail, every freckle, every mole, and every scar you could see. You committed to memory every inch of skin your eyes could reach before the man beside you woke up. You tried to learn by heart what this man looks like when he is untroubled and at peace—what he looks like in the eyes of his future lover when they wake up next to him because that would never be you.

It would never be you.

And that could happen any day now. Reid was bound to find someone who would love him. He was the easiest person to love. He was not a prince charming nor the male lead of a romance novel kind of guy, But he has this boyish charm.

Let us be real. Reid was probably the most uncoordinated guy alive and the most socially awkward person ever. But you were taken by him. The moment he started spewing facts and statistics about anything and everything under the sun, you were done for.

He could talk to you about why worms were called worms and the probability of people dying on their birthdays. And you would listen to him willingly. You were that taken by him. Not to mention, it does not help your case that Reid was probably the prettiest person alive. Well, not literally, but he was that close to being the prettiest person—in your opinion of course.

He had messy, brown curls that looked like they barely experienced the touch of a comb, but you knew they were soft. You knew because every time Reid did something endearing—everything he did was endearing, for you—you always ruffled his hair. This would make him grumble about how he had to fix it again and to which you would reply with a cheeky, You know what a comb is? And Reid would roll his eyes at you.

He had hazel eyes that reminded you of a puppy dog. They were mostly brown with a tinge of green. Most days, it reminded you of being cozy, drinking hot chocolate by the fire. They looked like you were coming home. They always looked like they were pleading for you to stare at them. And you admit you have lost count of the many times Reid had to flick his fingers in front of you with a matching Earth to Y/N and a mini history lesson starting with a Did you know that the history behind that phrase comes from science fiction movies showing people on earth sending messages to people in space?

And Reid always wore the fluffiest cardigans and sweater vests, reminding you of your teddy bear collection at your childhood home. It was crazy how if you saw anyone else in the law enforcement track having the same fashion sense as Reid, you would probably think of them as ridiculous. He wore a pair of black converse sneakers, among other things. For heaven’s sake! Come on! You have to go after seasoned criminals—you at least have to look the part. Right? You have to look imposing and menacing to intimidate them in interrogation rooms. However, the teddy bear look—as you’d like to call it—works so well for Reid. 

What is more, is that Reid fits your ideal type. He is probably the poster boy for it. Ever since you were never into the macho guys and their big muscles. No offense to them because those are their bodies. They look good, but you like your men a little scrawny. You liked lean and really tall men. And Reid is definitely that. He may have failed his fitness test a gazillion times, but the man was in no way, shape, or form, unhealthy. He had the right muscles at the right places and besides, he literally goes after serial killers. He is fit alright.

Lost in your thoughts, you were damn near ogling the man beside you and ended up looking fixedly at his lips. You always thought he had kissable lips, minus the fact that it is probably because you were practically in love with the guy.

You wanted to kiss him so bad it is killing you right now. But in your good conscience, you couldn’t and you wouldn’t. You were completely aware of Reid being a germaphobe, and he has mentioned countless times, kissing is more hygienic than shaking another person’s hand, kissing a sleeping person was out of the books for you. One, the person couldn’t consent because they were unconscious. Two, you were not his lover. Kissing him while he was asleep would be a violation to him. Not to mention, unwelcomed and creepy as hell. Imagine waking up and someone has their lips slobbering your face. Icky!

You were so engrossed with images of you kissing Reid and him kissing you back that you forgot one detail—the man could wake up at any moment without you noticing.

And he did wake up. You just failed to notice, too busy ogling his pink lips.

“If you won’t do it, I will.”

You froze in place.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, you rushed to leap out of Reid’s bed—almost toppling over on the floor in an unladylike fashion. You probably would look worse than Reid when he was huffing and puffing during his last fitness test mandated by the bureau.

But before you could jump out and run away from the man beside you, Reid had all but effortlessly pulled you towards him. You ended up burying yourself into his chest face first as you clutched his shirt to break the fall. It is not even 8 am in the morning yet, and you have managed to embarrass yourself enough for your parents to cut off all ties with you. You would rather dig yourself a hole to die in than be here.

Knowing you have nowhere else to escape, you believe it was time to lie on the bed you made. Sluggishly, you pulled your face away from the lean chest you descended on and peeped up at the angelic face you’d been staring at for the past hour with a sheepish smile.

“H-hi, Reid!”

This is just pure torture. Reid probably knew why you looked like an actual tomato with how red you are, at this moment. He is smiling at you like a cat who ate the canary as he suppressed a laugh.

“I didn’t know you had a clumsy side to you, Y/L/N,” Reid snickered.

What?

“What?” You frowned, which made Reid chuckle some more, shaking his head.

“Nothing,” you scrunch your brows as you tilt your head in confusion, “You just seem so formidable on the field and interrogation room. I’d hate to be the one you’re tracking down,” Reid responded.

“Oh, um,” you grinned as you thought of the perfect rib for the man in front of you, “Just because I’m an FBI agent doesn’t mean I can’t be uncoordinated every now and then. I mean, I know plenty of agents who are quite the klutz on the daily,” you peered at him while he gawps in protest.

“Hey!” He argued, scowling at you.

God, he’s endearing.

“I didn’t mention any names,” you chortled, raising your hand in defense, which made him roll his eyes.

You cracked up at his juvenile actions. In turn, Reid smiled in amusement.

God, you can’t believe that you’re laying on a bed beside Reid. With Reid—like it’s an everyday thing. The smiles. The banter. The laughter. This is crazy. You could get used to this. Sleeping next to him and not just next to him—like the ones you have during your cases where you get to be roommates. No, sleeping on one bed, next to each other. Waking up next to each other. Hearing his gruff morning voice.

You could get used to this.

You can’t.

You shouldn’t.

Reid is your friend. A coworker. You shouldn’t be fantasizing about sleeping and waking up next to him, that is unprofessional. Not to mention, you would be breaking one of the golden rules of the bureau. Never fraternize with a fellow agent on the same unit. 

Seemingly lost in thought, you retreated from the man beside you, as you grimaced.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Reid,” you smiled glumly, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” you patted his cheek gently.

“Is this about you waking up in my bed? I swear no—”

“I know, Reid,” you sighed, “You would never hurt me. I was drunk last night. I’m sure you brought me here because you were too tired to take me home. We just got back from a case and I shouldn’t have drank a lot of shots after all the sleepless nights,” you were slowly sitting up now, “But thank you, Reid. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Always, Y/N.”

This made you smile.

Trust Reid to always make your heart flutter at the tiniest gestures. He’s probably the most genuine and compassionate person you know. It breaks your heart every time you remember that his actions might make you feel butterflies in your stomach, but he does them not because he sees you romantically—he just does them because that is just how he is—caring.

“I’m gonna get up now,” you muttered.

“So, that’s it?”

This made you pause.

“What do you mean?” You looked at him, to which he scoffed.

“You know what I mean, Y/N.”

“No, I really don’t, Reid,” you scowled, growing irritated at this whole situation, his riddles, and him, for being so perfect, “So, you better tell me because you scoffing at me is slowly infuriating me.”

“You spent an hour, eighteen minutes, and thirty-eight seconds watching me sleep,” Reid shared as matter-of-factly, as if to say "You aren’t slick, Y/N, " which made you sputter in indignation. At this rate, you wouldn’t be surprised if Reid would be considered by the Guinness World Records as the first omniscient person on earth with his brilliant mind. The man has an IQ of 187 for Pete’s sake!

“If that doesn’t tell you anything, then I don’t know what will,” he finished.

“First of all,” you started, “I did not watch you sleep.”

This made the man raise one brow at you. Liar.

“Second of all, if I did watch you sleep and you felt it,” you continued pointedly as if to tell Reid you weren’t watching him sleep. “Shouldn’t you have called me out on it? Why did you let me be then?” 

“I don’t know. Okay?”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” You pushed, crossing your arms.

“I woke up just a few minutes after I felt your stare,” Reid began rambling, “Did you know the reason why we feel someone is looking directly at us is that we have this system called the gaze detection system? I woke up a few minutes after I felt you staring.”

You smiled fondly at the man prattling facts from the back of his brain. This was your favorite version of Reid. The one who knows anything and everything under the sun and can probably talk about them if you asked him to. But right now, you have had enough of that. You won’t allow him to distract his adorable babbling from knowing why he let you stare at him.

Maybe he shares the same feelings with you.

“Reid,” you exhaled, “that still doesn’t explain why you let me watch you sleep.”

This made the man’s cheeks start dusting with pink. You were aware of the fact that it should have been the questioning done the other way around. You literally breached his privacy in his own home but you couldn’t help it. You wanted to know if he feels the same way as you. You wanted to know everything now rather than later. You know you’d probably get rejected but you wanted to get it over with.

“I wanted you to kiss me.”

This made you gasp, eyes widening—you think they were about to come out of their sockets. Reid blushed some more with your shocked expression. 

“I didn’t know what to do,” he continued explaining, “so I pretended to be asleep but I wanted you to kiss me. I thought that you would kiss me but you didn’t. So, I waited.” He looked down at his lap and bit his lip.

With your initial shock wearing off, you practically looked like a wild animal pouncing on the bed. Reid yelped at how quick you moved from where you originally stayed put. Without further ado, you reached for him. Thumbs caressing his rosy cheeks, you stared at his hazel irises.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked gently, wanting to be sure that he wants this just as much as you do. Before you could say anything else, Reid pressed his lips against yours.

As soon as you felt his lips against yours, your eyes closed. His lips were warm and soft—a little chapped but you didn’t mind. It feels perfect against yours. You didn’t want this to end but you want to see him—feel more of him. So, you did. You buried one of your hands in his curls as you caressed his chiseled jaw. Warmth blossomed in your chest as you realized you were kissing the guy you’d been pining for years and he is kissing you back.

You could taste your shared breath and feel the flutter of his long lashes against your cheeks. He tilted his head slightly in the opposite direction and nudged his nose against yours as your lips parted slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue inside.

You wanted to open your eyes. You wanted to see the faint constellations on his face, admire the slight scrunch of his brows when he’s focused—you had a feeling after this kiss is over, being with him won’t be as easy as it was before. You would be ruined knowing what it was like to kiss him. But you were so tired of longing for him. And his mouth was the softest mouth you have ever kissed. And nobody has ever kissed you like this before—loving and warm.

You didn’t stop kissing Reid until you felt like you were running out of air from running. So, you held his shoulders and distanced your face from his. He tried chasing your lips but you dodged him. Instead, you looked down at your lap. You felt your tears and willed them to not fall. Not here, not now, not in front of him. You wouldn’t want him to pity you.

“Hey, Y/N,” Reid placed his warm hand against yours, “What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?” His thumb caressed your hand soothingly.

“That’s the thing, Reid,” you explained, looking up at him right now as he flinched, noting the tears glistening in your eyes, “Nothing’s wrong. The kiss was perfect. You’re perfect.” You could see his shoulders sagging in relief after what you said. “And because of that, I can’t just pretend that what happened was normal because it isn’t. I know it won’t happen again so I can’t get used to it. And you know I’m not the type to kiss someone unless they mean that much to me.”

You were about to explain some more when you felt Reid pull you. You gulped when you felt the tickle of his breath in the junction of your neck and shoulder. “I really like you, Y/N. If it isn’t obvious,” Reid muttered shyly, “I’ve liked you for quite some time now.”

“Oh.”

If this was difficult for you, it was difficult for Reid as well—if not more—to be vulnerable about his feelings. You knew about how difficult it was for him growing up, being the only twelve-year-old prodigy in a public high school. He’s been through so much with his dad leaving and having to take care of his mom. He’s never had a proper experience with just about everything from making friends, being a normal kid, and in this case, harboring romantic feelings for someone—you.

So, you did what you thought could convey that the feeling was mutual. You gently wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled your face into his brown locks. He smelled of crisp pages of a book with a hint of pine. If you thought your favorite version of Reid was him rambling about facts and statistics, you’re probably going to give that version a run for his money. Because this version of Spencer Reid right here—the one who chose to be vulnerable, the one who chose to open up to you not knowing if the feeling was mutual—is probably your new favorite version of him.

“If it isn’t obvious to you, Dr. Reid,” you began, “I’ve liked you for quite some time now too.”

With that, you pulled him away from being tucked into your neck and kissed him again. You felt him grin widely, as you showered his pretty face with pecks, and you could not be happier. Before you could shower him with more kisses, Reid started spouting statistics about office romances.

“One in ten heterosexual couples in the United States meet at work.”

“Lucky for us,” you said as you tried to bury your nose in Reid’s neck, which made him giggle. "We are that one couple in the BAU. Now, shut up, so I can kiss you some more.”

This made Reid guffaw.

You couldn’t be happier waking up next to your coworker.

[wonwooslibrary]

svt as boyfriends ♡ joshua edition

member: joshua x reader genre: established relationship, bullet points word count: 738 summary: joshua's boyfriend things ;) warnings: mentions of food and i think that's it! let me know if i missed anything! author's note: y'all i am almost two whole days late with this oh god it keeps getting worse. i am...very tired haha i've been working a lot to build up some money while i'm not in school so yeah. i lowkey forgot about joshua/taehyung day until i opened twitter and saw people talking abt shua and i was like WAIT THAT IS TODAY anyway moral of the story i'm tired and need a break but here is the joshua fic we've all been waiting for! ily all and enjoy <3

He lowkey gives the vibes of like. The foreign exchange student bf with a relationship with a deadline 

He’s the silly bf!!! 

He’s also one of the members I see the least as a boyfriend so this is going to be interesting to write…

Quality Time 

Mans is a fan of everything fr !!! He absolutely loves spending time with you and your shared group of friends 

Loves doing silly little activities with you like making bracelets and painting 

He might just be the artsy bf we all want 

Joshua loves to go to different places with you like thrift stores, arcades, cafes, literally anything as long as he is with you <3

Loves the feeling of mixing his friend groups - the day you meet his friends aka his brothers he will be imploding with love for everyone 

Is the “i get bored easily” bf so y’all gotta be doing like ten different things at once 

Will totally ask you to dance or just close your eyes and be with him when a slow song comes on at a party / get together / playing music at home 

Words of Affirmation

You totally call him Joshy or Shua and he loves every minute of it bc he thinks it’s cute 

“Darling, would you like to get coffee with me tomorrow morning?” SCREECHING 

Believes the relationship revolves around pet names (ie. baby, sweetie, darling) he's adorable 

Is always proud of you and encouraging!!! 

Likes to leave little notes for you around the house. Maybe by your favorite drink in the fridge that reads, “I got these for you. stay hydrated, love” 

At the beginning of the relationship he was so formal with you, that it took him saying “I love you” for the first time to relax for five seconds LOL 

Physical Touch

Joshua loves handholding ‼️

This man always wants to have some sort of contact with you, whether that be holding hands, linking fingers or rubbing your back

Loves having you sit on his lap or lay your legs across his 

His go-to move when you are in public is linking your pinkies together (how cute :3) 

Leans on you when he laughs because he cannot sit still 

I feel like Joshua would like. move his fingers on your leg in the way of playing piano keys but with guitar if that makes sense? Like where the frets are? Idk

Is also the type to be scared of touching you in front of others until you explicitly tell him that it's okay

Acts of Service 

Loves doing the chores for you

“Hey, baby, I'm gonna fill my water bottle. Do you need me to fill yours?” 

Or even a, “hey i borrowed your car, but i filled the tank before bringing it back” we love a man who can afford to fill a vehicle’s tank at this point in time

Likes to bring you lunch once or twice a week --- he’ll make it himself and pack it in a cute little bag and everything 

Helps you in little ways like folding the laundry or helping you pick out outfits on those days that you struggle to do anything 

Is always there for you when literally anything happens. You need someone to help fix your car? He’s on the phone finding a shop. You can’t reach a high shelf or your back hurts too much to bend down to get something from a low cupboard? He’s right there ready to help

Gift Giving 

I touched on this a tiny bit earlier but !! handmade jewelry omg he would make matching bracelets for y’all or even a necklace or earrings for you if bracelets interfere with your job

Always buys little trinkets that remind him of you or your relationship 

“Hey I found this little glass rose decoration and it reminded me of the time i got you flowers when i asked you out the first time” 

HE WILL ALWAYS HAVE THE CUTE SHY SMILE WHEN HE GIVES YOU SOMETHING TOO as if you’ll ever tell him that you dislike something he got for you 

He would also love if you gave him gifts too like, “hey joshy I got this little container that can help you keep your beads organized” and he’s melt into a puddle of goo onto your living room floor 

Also gets something for you (usually your favorite snack or drink) when you’re especially sad or stressed out - like a super gift instead of his regular daily gifts or something 

Idk just know he’s really sweet and enjoys crafting

[isackwhy]

Heyyy, I was wondering if you'd be able to write a fic where the reader is having a terrible day and whoever you wish to write for holds them and sings to them and comforts them? Ty!

well. i’m high so u know i gotta do my boy isaac

isaacwhy x reader who had a bad day blurb/fic?

Everything was going wrong. You woke up angry the world like you were 13 again. You had run out of your favorite drink to start the day off. Then, you spilled water all over the kitchen before you were even dressed and ready. And then when you finally did and sat down to do some editing, your PC nearly shit the bed.

So, with a string of curses and a huff, you dialed your boyfriend.

That’s why Isaac is at your place as you pout on your bed, staring at him mess with your PC. “Do you want me to order food?” Isaac asks, sifting through your settings to find the issue. It’s running far too slow and nothing will open. You’d think it would be a simple issue, like not enough storage or something. No, of course it wasn’t fixed so simply.

“If you want to,” You reply dryly, trying your best to not let your mood sour Isaac’s. But, he freezes, no longer clicking on your monitor with your mouse. He spins around to face you, eyebrows raised. “Do you want food, babe?” Isaac asks again. You sigh, sitting up, “Yeah. Yeah. We can get food.”

Isaac narrows his eyes on you, “What’s up?”

“Just annoyed.”

“I’m getting this fixed as fast as I can, baby,” Isaac assures you but he’s met with an even louder sigh. “It’s not just that. I woke up angry. Forgot to get more of my favorite drink while at the store. I spilled water everywhere and I can’t even do my fucking work because my PC is a moron,” You angrily mumble.

Isaac runs a hand over his face, leaning forward in your chair, “Do you know why you woke up angry?”

“I’d be less angry if I did, Isaac,” You state, only to immediately regret your tone the second you see Isaac’s face drop. He’s just trying to help. It’s not his fault. You take a deep breath, moving to the edge of your bed, “I’m sorry. I just feel like shit, which isn’t an excuse—but, I’m sorry,” You tell him, reaching for his hands.

Isaac holds your hands, dragging himself towards you until your back hits your mattress and you’re cuddled up. Tears form in your throat and then brim your eyes but you hold back, trying wanting to hug Isaac. “Cabo Bob’s?” Isaac softly asks, resting a kiss to your head, “And I’ll have the driver get your drinks or—we can go get them while we wait for food.”

You sniffle, looking towards him, “Can we just—lay here for a little first?” Isaac nods quickly, resting his head atop of yours, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you need, babe. I love you.”

“I love you more,” You reply back, melting into his touch.

i hope this is good i’m high as shit

[oonajaeadira]

A Welcome Home At Resolution Ranch

Fandom: Kingsman: The Golden Circle / Jack "Whiskey" Daniels

Pairing: Jack Daniels x reader

Reader: Adult female. Former agent, now the manager at a guest ranch. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: T. Fluff.

Warnings: A little bit of angst, but on the edge of healing

Summary: When the news comes through that Jack met his end in Cambodia, you know better.

A/N: Well howdy, friends, and welcome to a good, soft, fix-it fic. What inspired this? @writeforfandoms did when she sent in an ask for a game....

"I wish you would write a fic where Jack is fine and nothing hurts and there are stars in the sky and there is plenty of banter and softness. Maybe horses."

Since her birfday is this week and writing Jack for each other is a love language, this is especially for her. <3

“You sure I’m ready to go on my own?”

Charity is a good girl. A little accident-prone at times, sure, but it’s mainly out of a lack of confidence. She’s got a real knack with the horses though, and you’ve learned to let her be on hand whenever the ranch has new guests check in; that million-watt smile of hers is worth a welcome mat covered in gold. She is Jack’s kin in every way, except he sucked up all the ego in the family and left little over for his niece.

Handing her the roster clipboard, you grant her an approving grin. “You grew up on these trails. You know them better than I ever will. You’re every ounce the guide any of us are. Now you’ve got eight guests riding with you this evening, two of them are about your age, and pretty handsome young gentlemen. You’re about to win the hearts of some suitors with that sweetness of yours…and if not, then for sure their grandparents. Have fun. Oh,” you remember, pointing to a name on the roster, “this lady here is a bit of a tick, but she has it bad for Morgans. Put her on Sasha and she’ll be shining so bright there’s nothing gonna dim her stars.”

“But Sasha’s your horse.”

“She won’t mind. Now get. And remember–”

Charity rolls her eyes. “Don’t let anyone tell me that they know horses better than I do, I know.”

“Good girl. Now you do a good job on your first solo run and I’ll have a big surprise waiting for you when you come back, hear?”

“I’m not a kid. I don’t need a reward.”

Turning the girl around by the shoulders and sending her off in the direction of the stables, you refrain from swatting her playfully, showing her the respect of a coworker. “And I’m not baking you cookies either. I’m not going with you tonight because I have something I gotta do. You’ll get the benefit of that thing whether you do a good job or not. I was trying to be encouraging.”

Her black braid swings down her back as she walks off to her task–both excited and scared, clutching the clipboard with both hands. 

“Oh, and Charry?” She stops to turn and listen. “Don’t put anyone on Whiplash. Leave her in the stable tonight.”

Once she’s given you a nod and marched out of sight, you wander back into the main lodge and relieve everyone for a few hours. You’re ready to take the front desk on your own. No worries, you explain, there’s only one guest booked to come in in the next hour and everyone else is out on the twilight ride. You’ll take it from here.

Once the lobby is quiet, you prop yourself out on the porch in a rocking chair with your boots up on the railing, tip your hat down low, and keep your eyes on the horizon--gradually more pink and gold by the minute--where any cars coming over the mile-long driveway can’t pass your notice.

It’s been six years now since you were secretly decommissioned from Statesman and your agent status revoked. Emotional trauma is a hell of a thing, and some agents take a beating. When head of the organization deems an agent unfit for duty with needs of long-term recovery and care, it’s their call to order it and–with the help of one other top officer–secretly install the probationed agent in a situation where they are anonymous and removed from any society that they could harm or could harm them. The organizational file would relate how the agent was killed in action, with the true story being kept by the two in charge. A total erasure of personage, total disappearance.

If and when the agent passed an evaluation and elected to return, they became extremely valuable as a secret operative, since everyone would assume they were deceased. 

If they decided not to return, the agency made sure they were provided for. For life.

Sometimes they came back; thrill of the hunt, what they know best and all that. But overall, the return rate was low. Something about a slow down calls after a life of deception.

In your case, Jack was chosen as Champ’s second and–having always been one of the only agents that damn cowboy liked working with–suggested you head up his family ranch for your rehab period. Tasked you with making it a nice working vacation ranch for families. Came out and visited you often enough to make sure you were getting on.

And, of course, to make sure you were getting off too. 

There was a lot of hay on property, and Jack was a damn nice rolling partner. Said that he liked that he never had to pretend with you. Not now, not ever.

And you always felt exactly the same.

But the timing was never perfect. And the world had always needed one or the other of you to save it.

Distractions.

After the requisite five year probation, Champ and Jack made the ceremonial trip out and asked if you’d like to be re-evaluated and “reborn”. As much as you’d been itching during the first couple of years to get back in the game, the quiet life had softened your body and won your heart. You’d gained the trust of the employees. Knew all the horses and their idiosyncracies by heart. It had become your home. Walking away to spend days without sleep, lying, taking lives without stopping to think twice….just didn’t appeal anymore.

With Champ’s understanding, you had respectfully retired, and with Jack’s blessing, you’d planted yourself permanently. The ranch was your calling. Your heart. Even with some of Jack’s relatives working and living here it could get lonely at times, but then you’d catch yourself watching the fireflies in the sunset or riding Sasha through a particularly pretty meadow and everything seemed right with the world.

And hells. If the lack of companionship was the only thing you had to complain about, well the universe must have heard. It’s rung the hospitality bell for you.

Taking the letter out of your pocket, you glance over it one more time. An announcement of an agent down. Cambodia. Drug conspiracy. Agents Galahad, Galahad, and Merlin of Kingmen, London. Agent Whiskey showing mental trauma and poor judgment. A violent engagement. A meat grinder. Signed by Head Agent Champagne.

So that’s the story they assigned him, huh. A meat grinder? Really? So stupid. But then, you got to assist in penning your own death, so it makes all the sense in the world that Jack got to have a say in his. Of course he was going to go out in the corniest way possible, of course he was.

Tsk. A meat grinder. Jesus.

Before long, the stars are starting to peek out and there’s a plume of dust on the horizon. Then a black car at the core of it, making its way along the drive. By the time it pulls up in front of the porch, you’ve hidden the letter back in your pocket, stood and made your way to the bottom of the steps. 

Two doors open. From the front a driver emerges, short and sturdy, young and hale, heading for the trunk to retrieve luggage. But when the back door opens, there’s the duo of a boot and a Stetson which emerge together then unfold into a tall, cool drink of Jack Daniels.

It’s a showdown at twilight, but you both keep your hearts in your holster for the time being and instead reach for your sass. “Driver? This here’s a working ranch, so you can just leave the luggage. Guests here are required to haul their own.”

They do as they’re told with a nod, dropping two suitcases and a duffel in the dust. The whole time Jack stands, unmoving, hands on hips, watching with a bemused incredulity as the driver then simply gets back behind the wheel and literally drives off into the sunset, leaving Jack's bags like carrion.

“Well shit. Is that any way to welcome a man home?”

“Maybe I just wanted you all to myself, cowboy. You ever think of that?”

There’s a delicious moment underscored by cricket strings that allows for both of your grins to stretch to full capacity.

But still, he’s a man whose wind has abandoned his sails and you both know why he’s here. It doesn’t mean he’s not still Jack Daniels though. And while he might not come at you with an oppressive swagger, he still comes to you, the cockiness giving way to a genuine fondness.

“Well. Hello, gorgeous.”

“Let me guess,” you tease, opening your arms to guide him to his landing, “You have a pack of cold ones and your roomie’s out so I can scream your name as loud as I want.”

His embrace is more than just happiness to see you. It’s heavy with relief, with longing. He needs it from you as much as you from him, and he hums low into your neck as he lifts you so that your toes just leave the ground before plopping you back down. This is the point where the usual hug might end, but he stays. He stays just a few more breaths and you can tell he’s taking a cure in the moment.

“Come on, cowboy,” you hum into his shoulder. “Let me help you with these bags. I prepared the best room in the house for you.”

Silently, you both heft a suitcase and he takes the extra duffel, and you make it up the stairs of the main house to the biggest bedroom and flip on the light.

“Isn’t this your bedroom, Brandy?”

Throwing a suitcase on the quilted bed you shake a finger at him. “Uh uh uh, that’s not my name anymore, Whiskey.”

He follows suit, unburdening himself. “And that’s not mine. Belongs to Ginger now.”

You can’t--and won't--hide your delight. “Well hot shit. Good for her. She’s always wanted to go out into the field.” But it’s also bittersweet. It's been six years. “How is my girl?” 

“Oh, she’s doing real fine. Took over as Champ’s right hand when I went out and Tequila hopped the pond to work for those Brits.”

“Damn. Well, I’m proud of her. I wish I could tell her. If I could have just had one more agent to keep in touch with….wait.” Something in Jack’s little smile gives you pause. “Waaaaait a minute. Did she–???”

He finishes the thought for you. “With the transfer of title, she also became Champ’s number two. So she’s got access your retirement file. I’m sure she’ll be booking a vacation here soon enough.”

Turning to the window and clamping a hand over your mouth, you hold your own reflection and do your best to keep the tears for later. It’s been six years and your old friend is in Kentucky right now, finding out any day now that you’re not dead after all, that you’re only a plane ride away. A long dreamed-for reunion is coming. Oh god. 

But Jack’s here now, and he’s going to need your support. And of course he’ll demand your attention–”You never answered my question. Where are you sleeping if I’m in here?”

Turning to him, you wink. “Who said I was moving out of this room?” His blush signals that you’ve just out-Jacked Jack Daniels. Stepping in closer, you take his hand. “Hey. I just wanted to give you a view of the stables. If you want me here, I’ll share the room with you. If not, the guest room is free and I’m comfortable sleeping there too. This is your home now, cowboy. I want you to see the sun in the morning. Give you a reason to get up every day.”

“Sunshine’s wherever you are, partner. It’d actually be real nice to have a reason to stay in bed.”

His words spread through you like a good bourbon. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.” It’s a warm moment, new for both of you. Instead of the thrill of the promise of sharing a bed and the obvious adventure that awaits, you have something now that you both never had before–time. Time to hold. Time to breathe. Time to heal and take it soft and slow. “Come on, cowboy. I wanna show you something.”

Picking up his Stetson from the bed, you place it lovingly on his head, your fingertips lingering as they trail down his sideburns. He wears the hat well, and the facial hair. And the deep adoration. Before he gets lost in the moment, you lead him out of the main house and down toward the stables.

“So. A meat grinder.”

He grins as he watches his feet, big hands swinging at his side. “Can’t blame a man for people wanting to remember his demise. That one’ll be talked about.”

“Little over the top, isn’t it?”

“That’s the way I went in, apparently.”

“Stupidest death I’ve ever heard of.”

“But you’ll remember it, won’t you.”

Rolling your eyes, you lead him to one of the front stalls of the stable. “Yeah, but I’d never believe it. Jack Daniels? Taken down by an unarmed, unstable agent and his apprentice? This hulk of a man tossed around and yanked into a grinder as if there’s one big enough to take you?”

“You’re real hung up on the meat grinder part, aren’t you. You do know the target was actually processing people and making them into burgers, right? I don’t see why it’s so unbelievable–” But he stops like stone when you reach your target stall. “Is that…Well slap my chaps. That’s the prettiest mustang I’ve ever seen.”

“You like her?” Clicking your tongue, the lithe and beautiful bay immediately comes to you, tossing her mane, ready for the apple you’ve got on offer. And when you hide it behind your back, she knows to put her nose to yours, to nuzzle you gently. “This is Whiplash. Fast as a shooting star and twice as bright. Picked her out myself. Helped Charity to train her up, which is why she’s also sweet. That girl has the patience of a saint. Must get it from the other side of the family. But this mare was a passion project for both of us. Thought you might like to claim her,” you say, handing the apple over to him and, with it, Whiplash’s attentions. “Anytime you need to clear your head, she’ll run you to the moon and back.”

Jack holds out the apple reverently with one hand, running the other along the mare’s neck. “Always wanted a mustang. Thought I’d have to settle for the automotive variety. They’re not the kind of horse you keep at a pedestrian ranch for just anyone to ride.”

“I know. It was meant to be a surprise for your next visit. But now that you’re here to stay, she’s even more yours than she was before.”

Now it’s Jack’s turn to hold those tears for later, his beautiful brown eyes gathering up all the rising moonlight. Swallowing hard, he gives you a nod, a thanks that he can’t put into words just yet. Instead, he deflects. “Where is my favorite niece?”

“Your only niece is out leading a twilight ride. It’s her first lead. I told her I’d have a reward waiting for her when she got back as long as all the guests are alive and kicking. She doesn’t know you’re coming yet.”

He nods. Goes back to petting Whiplash. The full day and the journey finally come to settle on him and all his thoughts seem to rise to the surface and float in his tired expression.

You reach out. Hook a finger in his belt loop and give it a coy tug. “Hey. Can I ask you...what happened, Jack?”

He has to take a breath. Two. Then he gives Whiplash a final pat and takes your hand, weaving it through the crook of his arm, and you wander out into the darkening pasture together.

The mission was nearly doomed from the start. With Tequila down and Harry still recovering and Eggsy still green, it was just a mess. It didn’t help that his heart wasn’t in it, that he kept thinking about his loss so many years ago, that maybe it was better if all the addicts were just taken down in one fell swoop so they could stop hurting themselves and everyone else. Running the New York branch and distribution on top of fucking saving the world every five minutes–the burnout was getting to him and just made him fixate more. 

Harry saw through him but misinterpreted his reluctance. Harry shot him to take him out of commission, knowing full well that Ginger could fix him. Jack went back into action too soon, too hot. Went straight to Cambodia. Joined in the fray. Ended up taking out his rage on Poppy and brutally jamming a needle in her neck, overdosing and killing her rather than neutralizing her and taking her in as he should have. Harry and Eggsy were kind. Stood up for him with Champ. Helped to corroborate a story so he could step down. Jack let the record show that they were the heroes so they could go back to the Kingsmen in triumph and he could heal in peace.

This is what surprises you the most.

That Jack let himself go down as the bad guy.

“You could have just said you were taken down by one of Poppy’s men and walked away a martyr.”

He simply watches the first fireflies come out in answer to the first stars, squeezes your hand a little tighter, shakes his head. “If I’d had my head in the game, a good agent wouldn’t have died. Merlin. His name was Agent Merlin. Damn fine man. And if Harry and Eggsy hadn’t been the excellent agents they are, my lapse of judgment could have killed a lot more folks. This is my way to atone.”

“And there’s no way in hell you’d let anyone think you got taken down by some nameless thug.”

“Shit. Got me there.”

All you can do is show agreement with a knowing nod. “You know, when I first came out here, I couldn’t wait to leave. But you knew, didn’t you. You knew that I needed this.”

“I did.”

“Cocky bastard,” you mumble in loving admonishment. “Did you understand that you were nearing the end too? That you were sending me out here to give me time to be ready to bring you home?”

“I wasn’t aware of it at the time, probably a little too confident to ever think I should stop.” He turns to you, a sweet little apology in the corner of his smile. “But maybe a little part of me knew.”

“Yeah, that little part of you has gotten me into trouble before.”

He huffs a little laugh, tilts your chin up with a knuckle. Still holding your hand and sliding it inside his jacket against his chest he whispers, “Ain’t the part I was talking about, sweetheart.”

When he kisses you, it’s a different Jack than the one you used to settle for on occasion. This Jack is ready to put down his revolvers and his whip, ready to concentrate on himself, on you, on a life far from trouble. His kiss holds in it the promise of summer sunsets and long trail rides, of barbecues and lemonade and lazy mornings sleeping in. And there will be stars that are brighter...and nights under them for just the two of you. It’s a kiss that leaves no doubt that there will be many more to follow, each one with its own brand of sweetness and a happy ending well-earned.

No more distractions.

Time enough.

_____

MASTERLIST

CHARACTER MASTERLIST

[softguarnere]

2 am

Joe Liebgott x reader

A/N: (this is written for the fictional depictions from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) This fic idea has been banging around in my head for a solid year now, but for some reason I'm only just now writing it. Oops. The title comes from "2am" by Foals. Thanks for reading, and I hope that you enjoy! Warnings: alcohol, mentions of the Holocaust, language (one f-bomb and that's it)

For the middle of summer, the night air is cool against your warm cheeks when you stumble out of the hotel lobby, arms slung around the necks of your friends as the three of you lean into each other for support and guidance as you make your way to the curb. The three of you are still laughing at some joke that Luz made back inside when the cab pulls up.

“Here you go.” Careful not to lose his grip on you, Luz opens the back door of the cab and guides you towards the back seat.

You really should be getting back to your hotel, but you don’t want this night to end. And who would, after all the fun you’ve been having with your old friends? It’s nice to see them again, to catch up with them, like you’re finally getting to know them without the constant threat of German artillery fire looming over your heads.

“I’ll take the next one,” you protest.

This makes Babe laugh. “Nope. Drunkest person needs to get home first. We gotta make sure you get in the cab before you pass out.”

You fix your old friend with the best intimidating look that you can manage in your current condition. “You drank way more than me, Heffron.”

Babe chuckles. “But I can actually hold my liquor.”

Well, touché. You can’t argue with that one.

“Can you make it home okay?” Luz asks.

“I’ll be fine,” you promise. After all, you’re not nearly as drunk as they seem to think that you are . . . At least, you don’t think you are.

As if he can see your thought process, Luz laughs. “I’ll swing by tomorrow morning to make sure that you’re still alive.”

Your friends close the door of the cab then. Babe taps the glass of the window twice to signal to the driver that you’re ready to go. On cue, the car pulls forward, slowly pulling out of the hotel’s drive. Only when it nears the exit of the parking lot does your driver finally ask his question.

“Where to?” A voice with a familiar raspy quality wants to know.  

The sound is enough to make you freeze, your breath stuck in your throat. Maybe you are drunk. Yes, that must be it – the alcohol making you hear what you want to hear, using some wild manifestation of your subconscious desires. Because you haven’t heard that voice in years. You haven’t seen its owner in just as many. And you certainly didn’t expect to run into him here, of all places.

Your eyes jump to the rear-view mirror. A lump the size of a golf ball appears in your throat. Because even in the faded light of the late summer night, there can be no mistake as to who is staring back at you, waiting expectantly for your answer. Even after all these years, even though you can only see his eyes, you would recognize him anywhere.

“Joe?” Somehow, the words manage to push past the lump in your throat, echoing through the car in the silence that has fallen.

Click-click, click-click. The turn signal methodically keeps time, a metronome as your fellow paratrooper waits for a reply. Though you still haven’t said anything, he takes a right out of the parking lot and eases onto the road.

“Guy behind us was looking impatient,” he says by way of explanation.

It’s Joe Liebgott, you can tell. From the voice, the eyes, the way he tensed when you said his name. Would he have reacted that way if anyone else had said it? Or is it only because of you and the things that happened between the two of you so long ago?

The car is moving and you probably shouldn’t, but you can’t stop yourself from leaning forward, trying to get a better look at him. He’s so close – closer than you ever thought he would be – but he seems unreal and worlds away, like a dream that you can almost, but not quite, reach.

“Is it really you?” You whisper.

Joe sighs, a familiar sound. “Yeah, (Y/N). It’s me.”

“San Fransisco,” you remember aloud, some far away memory of some offhand comment that he once made to someone filtering into your memory. “You always said that you would come back here.”

He only nods. Your heart thuds in your chest. There’s so much to say, to ask, yet it feels like you’re running out of time for it all.

“And now you’re here,” Joe finally says. “With . . . them.”

It takes your brain a second to work out that he means Luz and Babe. Two of the many members of Easy Company who came to the reunion this year. Unlike some people.

“You didn’t come to the reunion.”

“No.” He makes a noise that might be a laugh. “Kind of defeats the purpose when you’re trying to leave the war behind you.”

Leave the war behind you. A slap in the face would have hurt less. Is that why he stopped calling you? Stopped answering your letters? You met during the war, during boot camp, and made it through the whole thing together – from Georgia to the Eagle’s Nest. You had been under the impression that you could make it back to the States . . . Well, at least now you know that Joe had different ideas.

“Then why are you here?” You ask. It’s a fair enough question; Easy Company reunions always generate a lot of attention. Joe happening to be outside of the hotel that was hosting this year’s reunion can’t be a coincidence, can it?

His silence is all the answer that you need.

“You showed up, but you didn’t come inside. Why?” Before he can answer, you add, “And don’t say the thing about leaving it all behind you again. I got that part, okay?”

You can hear Joe’s mouth shut with a click. You hadn’t meant to snap the last part at him. But seeing him here . . . All the anger, the sadness, anything you ever felt about or towards Joe Liebgott that you’ve spent years repressing is now rising to the surface.

“I think you know why,” Joe mutters.

No! You want to snap. No, I don’t understand how you could have left me hanging like that, after all that we went through together, all that we meant to each other.

“I – “ He clears his throat, shakes his head. “I was only hoping to see you. Just . . . I don’t know. I thought that would be enough, if I saw you. I never expected you to get into my cab.”

“And now I’m here.”

“Now you’re here.”

Thankfully the darkness of the night hides your faces from each other. In the solitude it provides, you can feel warmth bubbling and spilling over your eyelids, leaving glossy trails down your cheeks that shimmer gold in the passing streetlights. When it was clear that Joe was done with you, you had decided to leave him and your affections towards him behind. Clearly a part of you never quite let go. That much is clear to you now, as tears escape you without your permission.

Still driving, Joe glances up at the rear-view mirror, catching your eye. Your teary eyes. You can hear the frown in his voice.

“(Y/N)?”

“You left me behind,” you whisper.

For a moment, more silence. Then, “I know. And you know what? It was the stupidest decision that I ever made.”

Yes, it was. For a while, having loved him, having trusted him, felt like the stupidest decision that you ever made. It seems so terribly silly and childish to be sitting behind the man you once loved wholeheartedly – the man who broke your heart – and to wish for nothing more than for the two of you to go back to the way that you once were.

Second times the charm? Or should you follow a policy of “fool me once”?

“I want to go home,” you say. “Can you take me home? Please?”

Joe nods. “Where to?”

You give him the name of the hotel that you’re staying in. The cab fills with the rhythmic click-click, click-click of the blinker as Joe changes lanes, easing the car onto the exit and then navigating onto the quickest route like a master. There are several times when you hear him draw a breath as if to speak, but he never says anything. You keep quiet, allowing him the silence to concentrate on his driving.

Say something! Part of your brain – or is it your heart? – demands. You never expected to see him again, and now the chance is here. The destination is fast approaching, and then what will you do? If only you don’t squander it, this could be your chance to say all the things that have plagued you for years.

The cab slows as Joe sidles up to the hotel. Warm light from the lobby spills out the door and into the back of the cab, beckoning you into its safety. However, something stronger in the front of the cab keeps you firmly in place.

“I can’t sleep alone. Not again.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you’ve even had the chance to register them in your mind.

For the first time since you got into the cab, Joe turns to face you so that you can look at each other head-on. He frowns.

You rush on. “Do you remember Austria? After we liberated that camp, I never thought that I would sleep again. I only got rest because you were willing to flaunt the fraternization policy to come hold me, keep me safe.”

“I remember.”

“I think about that, sometimes,” you admit. You probably shouldn’t have told him that, given him that power over you. But who doesn’t regret the things they say at 2 a.m.?

Joe pushes a sigh, long and hard, through his nose. “Fuck.” He adjusts his position so that he’s leaning further back into the cab, closer to you. Through the darkness, you can see the conflict so clearly on his face, with his wrinkled brow, his frown. It’s so familiar.

“I’m sorry,” Joe says. “I really . . . I was stupid. You deserved better than that. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought that I was sparing you.”

“From what?”

“All my pain. My anger.”

“You don’t think I have that, too?”

Joe blinks, like the thought hadn’t occurred to him. When your boyfriend should have been helping you through those things, you had to rely on your old friends from the company instead. You would have helped him through his struggle, if he had only let you.

Then again, Joe Liebgott always had trouble asking for and admitting when he needed help.

“Park the car, Joe,” you say. “No, not here. In one of the parking spots.”

“Why?” Joe asks, even though he’s already pulling into a parking spot – he gets it perfect on the first try, effortlessly.

“Because,” you say. “You’re done driving for the night. You’re coming up to my hotel room and we’re finally going to talk.”

Joe kills the engine, but he doesn’t move from his seat. For a moment he stares at you, like he isn’t sure if this is real, or if he should. He must make up his mind because he nods, gets out of the car, and comes around to open your door for you. In the old days, he would have smirked at you, given you some pick-up line to hear you laugh. Now, he watches you with reserve.

Maybe this is a mistake. But if either of you really feels that what happened was a mistake, then there’s the possibility that it can be fixed, even after all these years. Not in one night, but it will be a start. Tonight, you can do something for Joe that people so often forget that he needs – show him some understanding, some compassion. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to reignite the light that once existed between you again.

[y0ur-loca1-lyr3]

A/N; So there was an anonymous person who had requested a my hero academia x a rude reader who opens up overtime, but unfortunately my dumbass accidentally posted it while it wasn’t ready so anon whoever you are I hope you find this and I hope you like it! Since they didn’t specify I decided to do a little bit for every character I write! (Except for Eri since I only write platonic fics for her)

My Hero Academia x reader who’s rude at first, but opens up later on

Izuku

He kinda interacts with you how he would with Bakugo at first

Is also probably scared half to death by you

Avoids you at all costs at first

Honestly he thinks you hate him until you clear up that you don’t

After that, when you begin to open up, he genuinely likes talking with you

If he can get the courage, he’ll probably ask if you wanna hang out somewhere to get to know each other, and hell, maybe the two of you can get closer than you thought you would <3

Bakugo

He likes your spunk

Honestly, he actually really likes that you’ve got the balls to talk back to him

Would probably wanna spar with you a lot if your also a hero in training

It’s easier for him to make friends with you because of the fact that you guys are so similar

When you open up, so does he

And when that happens it’s just sorta a rare vulnerable moment for the both of you

He trusts you a lot. Don’t break that trust.

Todoroki

At first he didn’t like you

You remind him too much of Bakugo

Too negative, too cynical

He generally doesn’t speak to you

Until you accidentally hurt Uraraka’s feelings on accident

He asks you what the hell’s your problem, which is followed by a lecture about how you’ve gotta fix your attitude

When you apologize to Uraraka and explain you really didn’t actually mean to hurt anyone, he calms down

He does his best to understand why you might not open up so easy, for whatever reason

From then on, you, Todoroki, and Uraraka are a pretty close friend group

Yes, Uraraka ships the two of you

Aizawa

He gets it

He’s had tough students before, and even if you aren’t his student, you’re no different

When the two of you go on a mission together, he explains that you two need to work together, which means trusting each other

He asks if you would at the very least trust him to save you to which you say yes

When the villains in cuffs, he compliments you on your skills, and then walks off

From then on there was just some sort of close unspoken bond

What that bond is? Who knows?

Dabi

Again, nothing new.

He has to deal with Shigaraki, you think you’re a hassle?

Beside that though, he actually likes you

You’re humor matches his, and he gets not wanting to appear weak in front of others

Once you two grow close enough, he’ll subtly check up on you when your sad, keep note of what your favorite food or drink is, and especially your eye color

The little things, you know? <3

Shigaraki

Exact opposite of Dabi

Has a temper tantrum the first time you talk back

Yes, he did infact try to obliterate you

He failed, and then he cried

After that little outburst he calms down

He still doesn’t like you

And yet there’s still that odd lingering tension in the air?…

Uraraka

Similar to Izuku, she thinks you hate her

Rather than cowering like Izuku does, though, she confronts you about it

Once everything is cleared up, she’ll talk to you in passing the halls

At some point she’ll start inviting you to the mall

And no she doesn’t care what gender you are, you’re being glamorized, and yes, Mina is going to be joining in on it

Overall a very fun person to hang out with, and a now close friend (maybe more???)

Denki

Poor boy can’t take an insult at all

He’ll act like it’s whatever and then pout about it in his room

Why we’re you so damn mean? Did you just not wanna be friends?

Well now he’s determined to be friends with you

Gifts, outings, compliments, you name it

Once you actually tell him you consider him a friend, he’s so excited

Will not stop smiling the rest of the day, and can’t get rid of that weird flutter in his stomach

Kirishima

He’s used to Bakugo being like this, so he’s used to you being like this

If you choose to insult him, he’s learned how to filter real vs fake insults, so he’ll laugh it off, and continue talking with you

He doesn’t mind carrying the conversation, as long as you’re not bored, he’ll rant his little heart out

He’ll happily spar with you to relieve some stress if you ask

He’ll also give sparring tips while sparring with you/ if you ask

Would absolutely love a gym buddy to hang with <3

Jirou

Meh.

She just doesn’t really care for you at first

She’ll talk to you if necessary and laugh at your sarcastic jokes, but other than that she doesn’t really socialize with you much

Until she realizes you and her like the same band that it feels like no one knows

Will talk about music for hours

Eventually she’ll grow close to you, and you guys become good friends

Maybe if you ask she’ll even teach you guitar

Unfortunately, I’ll have to do a part 2, but that will be out in only a matter of time! Stay tuned!

With love and kisses,

- y0urloca1lyr3

[aliorsboxostuff]

So how about sub din who is just started to date Dom reader and hasn't taken his helmet off yet. So things are getting steamy with them both and is din sitting on readers lap grinding on him and reader asks if he wants to take a step further and din nods yes. And reader makes sure that din is comfortable and says to leave the helmet on for din and doesn't want to rush him. And leads to din first time with reader and is riding him in the control room in the razor crest. I hope you are doing good and really glad that you are taking mandalorian requests.-🐸

A/N Oh 🐸, you with your amazing ideas, and always so descriptive! Though I gotta change the 'Started dating reader' part because the Din in my heart is a socially awkward mf that needs at LEAST 6 months of relationship development before holding hands. I also hope you are doing well! Yall gotta bear with me here this is gonna be my FIRST take on a star wars fic, let alone a Mandalorian fic, so if I do make any mistakes while writing some Mando'a words here, feel free to DM me or reply so I can fix where I wrote it wrong! As always, apologies for some mistakes, english is my 2nd language, and enjoy dear Readers! <3

Ner Din'ika 

Tags: Din Djarin x m!Reader, Grogu, Luke Skywalker, he's there as Grogus's teacher tho lmao, Mando'a words (Translation at the end), Bottom!Din, soft!Din, Keldabe kiss, First Kiss, Riding, Pet names, touch-starved!Din, fluff, fluff and smut, aftercare.

Din's first time with you is—as expected—filled with yearning and want and scalding touches and a kiss? 

[Takes place around the time frame of Grogus training in Book of Boba Fett, but i refuse to let The Razor Crest explode so here we are]

You stand at the mouth of The Razor Crest, watching as Din supervised Grogu’s latest training with Luke. The kid has flown a total of five little pebbles and an even more impressive number of bigger boulders, seven now counting. Din, worry and protectiveness practically oozing from his armor, stands off to the side, just near the tree lines, eyes watchful of his foundling as Luke, yet again, lets the little boy fly over his head. You’d deem it dangerous, stars, maybe irresponsible. But what do you know about Jedi training?

Instead, your eyes follow the line of Din's stature. His arms are crossed, leaning against some of the bamboos. Clearly trying to resemble a sort of relaxed stance, but you can see the tension, feel it even. Comes with being a Mandalorian’s boyfriend, you chuckle. Those broad shoulders lean back, Beskar reflecting the shining light of the growing evening, slowly he turns his head to glance at you sitting on the Crest’s mouth. You meet his visor, grinning, before he curtly turns back to where he was watching his kid. Your smile widens.

You met him through Cara Dune. She’s a good friend of yours, the one who pulled you out of your boring everyday life on Sorgan, used to fish the little morsels from your villages ponds, to hanging around her and earned her respect. Until that Beskar donned man and his little green kid came. Thought he wanted to take in Cara and you were ready to step in his way, but after they dueled, they came to a truce and started their alliance. He helped the villagers fight off the raiders that once terrorized the place, and once that's done he opted to leave, not before you hitched a ride to Nevarro with Cara.

It had to be admitted, the kid did catch your heart and held on to it, so you offered to help him and Grogu find his kind. Cycles after your initial meeting, you’ve grown close with both Din and Grogu, curious at the man’s past and equally drawn to him. Then that imperial bastard, Moff Gideon, had to up and steal the kid. So you, Cara, Bo-Katan and Hell, Boba Fett himself, joined forces to save him. 

The universe truly is bountiful to its protector, because you didn't take into account that saving The Mandalorians kid would give you the honor of learning his name and, by stars, becoming his boyfriend. Remembering back to those months, you still think you're the luckiest warrior in the whole galaxy to be blessed with such an amazing and loving clan of three. 

Reeling back to reality, far into the field, you see Grogu has gone tired and Luke has halted their training for the day, the little green guy already slumping into the dirt below and curling in on himself. You sigh fondly, walking down the ramp and jogging to wear Grogus doe eyes are already half lidded, and he yawns. 

“Come here kiddo,” You coo as you pick up his little body, cradling him in your arms. You see Luke talking to Din, too far away for you to catch, but you could see him nodding to Lukes animated chatter. You smile, glancing back down to Grogus little head burying himself deeper into your warmth, he’s already pawing at the jacket you're wearing, which makes you giggle and pull it around his little body. 

Luke walks over to where you’re standing, smiling as he sees Grogu already bundled up by you. “We should have dinner first before we sleep, right Grogu?”

Now that made his floppy ears perk. Grogu immediately turns from where you were hugging him, making grabby hands and incoherent words at the idea of food, which you smile at before handing him to Lukes waiting arms. 

“We’ll join you in a bit,” You said, and Luke nodded, already turning back into the direction of his temple. 

On cue, Din approaches you and slides an arm around your middle, pulling you to him at which you welcome the tug. With a steady hand on the cool Beskar chest plate, the two of you watch as Grogu flails his arms around, undoubtedly talking about something that only Luke could understand, the serenity of the fields surrounding you lulls you into a sense of peace. You turn to meet Dins visor, directed at Luke and Grogu, before it slowly turns to you, making you smile softly. Slowly, you bring your hand to caress the side of his helmet, fingers edging slightly under it, taking in the feeling of that powerful metal that has saved your boyfriend countless times. His gloved hand holds your wrist, not tugging away, just an anchor, a testament to his trust in you to know you’ll never take off his helmet, to know you’re patient to let Din take his own pace. 

The hand holding his helmet pulls slightly, and Din comes with. Your eyes flutter close as you feel the cold Beskar touch your crown, sighing when a shaky hand cups your jaw, bringing you closer. Despite the gap the armor creates, you’re never tired of feeling Dins hand on your nape, heavy over your pulse, burning even through his gloves. You smile, pulling back slightly, before you press a kiss to where his cheeks would be. “Let’s eat, cyar’ika,” You whisper, and you feel him nod.

You smile when he pulls back, arm still securely on your hips while the other smoothes over your jaw. You chuckle, pulling him to the smell of dinner being prepared by Luke, tugging him by his hand.

— 

After dinner is done and cleaned, Din has given Grogu his nightly bath and the kid is ready to pass out at any moment. Luke has taken him to his quarters and settled the little one on his own bed, just on the other side of his room. The bots have yet to make more sleeping quarters, still focusing on more classes and storage area, so the only available bed room would be Lukes, where Grogu is also staying. 

You and Din have known this from your last visits, opting to sleep in the privacy of the Crest instead. So you and Din bid the two a good night, and trek up the clearing where the ship is docked. 

Din’s arm never left your side, holding and pressing slightly, making you arch a brow at him. He only stares at you, undoubtedly false innocent eyes inside that helmet. You scoff, nudging him aside before pressing the button to close the ramp, submerging the two of you in the darkness of the Crest, shards of the twin moons the only thing leading you and Din up into the hull of the ship. 

His hands now roam around your body, pushing you slightly until your back hits the wall, you return his desperate touch with the same fervor. Finding the sliver of body suit on his hip not covered by his armor, you snake insistent fingers into the fabric and squeeze, his helmet not able to hide his groan.

“Easy dearest,” You smooth your hand over the area, other hand holding the side of his neck, thumb drawing soothing circles. “Let's take these off, alright?” He nods shakily.

You lead him to the compartment next to the sleeping pod, the table there clean of clutter and made to store Dins armor. Piece by piece, starting with his shoulder pauldrons, each part eased off with care, pressing a kiss to the Mudhorn signet, you can hear Dins stuttered breath. Then down to his vambraces, littering kisses from his shoulder and leading a path down to his forearm, then hands as you carefully pry off those thick gloves. You push Din slightly so his waist hits the edge of the table, pressing another kiss to the bare skin of his hand, half lidded eyes meets his visor at which you hear him exhale a ragged breath. 

Carefully unbuckling the belts around his breastplate, setting it on the table before you pull off the breastplate, the bodystocking stretches over his broad chest deliciously. As you put the armor piece aside, your hand smoothes over the fabric, pressing slightly where you know Din is sensitive the most, watching him inhale sharply before you smirk, littering kisses on your way down. As you crouch, you move to take off each leg piece, first tigh guards, pressing light kisses on the exposed fabric, then shin guards and the belts on top of it, then finally the knee-pads and his heavy boots. Gentle hands stoke up slightly, pushing the end of his pants up until you feel the tickle of leg hair, Din visibly shaking on top of you, gripping the table behind him until his scarred knuckles turn white. 

You smile, languidly making your way up his body, unwrapping his cape and setting it aside. The final divide between you and your boyfriend. His last brick, and the wall crumbles down. 

Shaking hands clasps at your back as you press kisses on his still covered clavicle, making the fabric damp and warm as he squirms. You hear his breath grow ragged, then you bite down, just enough to hear him groan and drop his head to your shoulder, his hands holding onto you like a lifeline. 

“Sleeping pod or-” 

“T-the cockpit…” He falters as you press another kiss nearing his neck. “Please,” 

You hum, nodding against his neck before leading him by the hand, careful touches along his hips as you usher him up the stairs. You follow suit, not forgetting to grab the lube from the compartment on the wall. 

When your feet touch the cockpits floor, Din impatiently pulls you up, hands stroking over your chest, down to your hips at which he breathes raggedly under your chin. You chuckle, moving him back until he feels the control panel. He almost jumps to sit on it, but you sit back on the captain's chair, you pull him towards you, making him stumble into your lap. His whine reverberates through his helmet's modulator adding a static edge to it. You made sure he’s comfortable before sliding your hands to his back, reaching to tug the zipper down. 

The zippers opens his backside into the night's cold air, making him arch into your warm touch, pressing his clothed cock to your lap. He whines from the movement, holding on to your shoulders, almost crushing them. With each skin slowly being revealed into the night's air, you press your lips against it, reveling in each whine and ragged breath you got out of Din. With every part of the suit being peeled, Din’s tanned skin is shown, bathed under the light of the moons and stars. Scars on his body paint an infinite constellation, your eyes following each one, from the deep ones to those that have grown lighter than Dins expanse of skin. 

Finally, he pulls at the tight bodysuit, discarding it somewhere on the floor, and his hands paws at your jacket, labored breath impatiently prying it off of your figure. You grin, shrugging the article off, followed by your shirt, leaving the both of you shirtless and breathless. Dins shaking hand strokes down your shoulder, to your arms, before he arches into you when your languid fingers trace his sensitive back, sending jolts rippling through his body. 

“Please…” Despite his helmet still perfectly secured on his head, you could feel his warmth ghosting at your neck. It truly has been a while since you and Din shared some privacy, always jumping from planet to planet, looking for more Mandalorians to repair broken bonds and doing favors that benefit Din’s covert. Only now did you and your boyfriend get to breathe in the warm embrace of peace within this planet, so you're not surprised just how sensitive Din has gotten.

“What do you need kar’ta?” Your hand holds Dins hip, no doubt leaving marks to be cherished in the morning, letting him grind himself on your thigh, broken moans and breath singing into your ears. You pride yourself for learning bits of Mando’a if only to hear his gasps each time you use it. “Hm? What do you want?” 

“I- ugh,” Din grunts as he feels one hand snakes into his trousers, stroking him steadily, his precum easing the movement. You smirk, other hand tweaking one of his perked nipples, bumping your head against his, making sure the amber in your eyes burns through his visor. The need melts into his skin. 

You’ve never gone past reverent touches and helping each other get off by hand, you haven't even gotten the pleasure of seeing Din fall apart by your mouth, but from the way he grinds into your touch, broken moans filling the room, his desperation leaks into your body. “Want me to fuck you?”

“Stars- Yes.” He moans when you tighten your hand just so. You nod, easing your hand away from his cock which makes him whine, until you begin to help him out of his pants.

“Okay, alright,” Your breath stutters when Din grinds over your cock, already tenting in the confines of your pants. Between you and Din’s relationship, the both of you haven't truly moved on from scalding touches and helping each other get off by hand. This is a new territory for Din, and you have to make sure he feels safe and comfortable in your embrace. 

You carefully slide him out of his trousers along with his briefs and discard it with the same pile as his top, feeling his strong thighs shake underneath your touch. Fumbling for the bottle of lube, you pour just enough on your hand and warm it up a bit, before following Din’s tailbone down to the top of his arse. He shivers, whining into your shoulder as he feels your digits ghosts over his hole, already squirming in your hold. 

“Come on, please,” He begs, nails scratching at your back. You slowly insert one finger, the tip first, letting the Din situate himself to the foreign feeling. He groans, burying himself deeper between the crook of your neck, his mandibles digging slightly at your jaw. The lube easies your finger to push more, deeper, until you hear his high pitch, broken moan, then slowly push in another. At that, he jerks his head to the side, chest still flushed with yours. 

When you begin scissoring, Din throws his head back, arches into your touch, which beckons you to chase him, biting at the now exposed column of his neck, making sure to leave marks no one but you know and Din could feel. Din feels delirious, deeply intoxicated from both your fingers and the feeling of your warm mouth pressing over sensitive skin and old scars, jolting each time you bite down or kiss longer to leave darker spots. He scarcely remembers moaning out broken syllables that should form your name, making your hold on his hips tighten, squeezing the scarred skin. 

After deeming it enough prep, you carefully pull your fingers out, pressing kisses on the planes of your boyfriend's chest, feeling him take ragged breaths, a steady hue of red throughout his body. You shuffle to discard your pants, hissing when you feel the cold air hit your heated skin. You could feel Din growing impatient, if the way he squirms could be interpreted as that, so you tug your pants off and align yourself under Din. 

“Slowly baby, slowly,” You remind him, his thigh shaking with anticipation. Hands holding under his thigh, making sure gravity doesn't take hold, you lower Din’s shivering body, inch by inch. The tight heat of his hole almost stutters your hold, making you groan, feeling the head of your cock inside him. You can feel Dins graps digs into your shoulders as he gasps.

Finally, your thighs are flushed with Dins, feeling the man shudder above you as you try to regain some sort of composure, breathing in shaking breaths. Din claws his way from your pellicals to your chest, making red rivers across your chest. You groan, pushing into his touch, which in turn shifts where you sat, enough to make your boyfriend shiver.

"M-move." He manages. "Move, please." 

"Anything for you mesh'la," You say as your teeth dangerously ghosts over his pulse. 

Planting your feet on the metal floor, you suppress the cold that shoots up your bones and instead focus on holding Din upright, thrusting into him with each movement. His arms shakes, moves back to grip the control panel, his scarred knuckles a hue lighter. A deep growl rumbles through you when you feel Din’s hole clenching around you, raking blunt teeth across his chest. You trail reverent kisses across a deep scar that runs from his left clavicle to just under his abdomen, Din shivers. In a more tender moment, slowed down after release with the two of you tangled together, you would've asked what those scars meant, wondering about the stories of your boyfriend's life. Maybe later, much later in the night.

When you hear a mewl, almost a hurt sound coming from the man currently flushed on top of you, your lips curls into a sharp grin, before hauling Din from gripping at the ships console to fall into your grasp, his arms immediately around your neck with a choked gasp from the sudden change. With the chair supporting both of your weight, you have the advantage to claw at Din’s hips, digging calloused fingers into his skin, using your strength to push Din up and down.   

You feel yourself nearing the edge, with Din clenching around you it’s hard to keep up the pace. The side of his helmet would leave an angry mark on your shoulder, making you grunt when Din lets out a broken whimper and buries his head to the crook of your neck. “C-close, baby,”

“Me too…” He lets out a breathy moan when your hand finds his dick, pumping it hastily, pushing him to his limit.

“Stars i-” You stutter when Din clenches around you. “Fuck- Wish i can kiss you,” 

Slip of a tongue. Shit. 

Your movement falters, a shiver shoots up when Din pulls his head back, dark visors looking straight to you, assessing you. 

"Din i-" But before you could sputter out a reason, an apology for forsaking the trust he gave you, darkness suddenly envelops your vision, rendering you blind. Dins hand covers your eyes, you could feel his calluses over your skin.

Then, as if a searing star itself break the atmosphere, you feel slightly chapped lips against yours, a tickle of stubble and- Is that a mustache? 

Din grunts into your mouth, realizing you still have one hand wrapped around him. He moans, moving with your thrusts, his kiss devouring your gasps as you push at him, deepening it. His tongue traces yours and confidently moves in, effectively rendering your brain into a short-circuit. Your mind briefly wonders how such a reserved man has this much skill in kissing, he’s no virgin but surely he hasn't kissed anyone beside you. Then he bites at your lower lip before bringing you deeper again with a hand on your nape, and all hell breaks loose.

You growl into the kiss, basking in the whimper he lets out as your hand moves faster and thrust grows sloppier, but definitely still hitting that spot that makes Din scream. He pulls back, inhaling sharply when you bite lightly on his jaw, feeling the hair that decorate it. Oh you’d worship him just to see his debauched face without being blind, and the thought is enough to make you cum. 

You feel yourself release inside Din’s warmth, making him shiver and let out a broken moan of your name. With your hand jerking him off, he follows suit, throwing his head back, painting his chest with strings of pearly cum. Once spent, he slumps into your embrace, helmet already in place and breathing raggedly next to your ear. You pry his hand off your eyes and press a kiss to the sliver of neck you could reach. 

Blinking away the little dots from your eyes being closed and pressed by his hand, you slowly steady your breath as you rub circles on Dins pelicals and lower back, feeling him sigh and melt at your touch. You can't help to let out a chuckle, which earns you a questioning sound from your boyfriend. 

“Nothing, just…” You smile, licking at your lips, trying to savor Din’s taste. “Best kiss I've ever had.”

That made him chuckle, nuzzling the cool helmet against the side of your neck. “Me too.”

Your smile widens, closing your eyes and simply letting the warmth of after-sex wafts through the cockpit. Speaking of which, you should probably clean up and sleep in the proper sleeping pod. The seat, plush as it is, won't do your back any good. So you reach for your scattered pants, looking for the fabric you always keep in your back pocket. When you finally find it, you shift Din a bit to clean up the mess that went up to both his and your chest, then carefully pull out of the man, making you groan as he shivers, wiping down what leaks out of him and the remaining lube around your length. 

Standing up and making your way down takes another effort, but nothing you can't do for Din, sleepy and content Din in your arms. Pushing the button to open the sleeping pod, you set him down on the edge of it before handing him a bottle of water.

“Drink, love,” You grin, before busying yourself on the table where another water bottle is kept and downing it. You hear the hushed shh of Dins helmet as it’s being taken off, then the cap of the water bottle turning. You swallow another gulp of water, before flashes of earliers heated kiss shocks you and makes you choke on the water slightly. You cough, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before closing the bottle and setting it back. 

“You uh… Done?” You clear your throat.

“Yeah,” You nod, turning back to see Dins helmet back on and him extending his arm, returning the bottle to you. You set it on the table and push him back to lie down in the pod. It’s always been a tight fit with both you and your boyfriend sleeping in it, but you make do.

When the doors are shut and the lights turned off, another hiss of Dins helmet makes your heart thump harder, but he shifts to place it on a small compartment off to the side and lays his head on your chest, one arm around you. You hook your arm around him, the other playfully raking through his curls. You could tell just from how it coils around your fingers, Din practically purring into your touch like a Loth Cat. You grin, pressing a kiss to his forehead before shifting to get comfortably on the pillow. 

“Good night, Din'ika,”

“Good night, Cyar’ika,” 

Cyar'ika: Darling, beloved, sweetheart 

Kar'ta: Heart

Mesh'la: beautiful

Requests are open! 

[amugoffandoms]

Woo!! It's time! It's time for the gift exchange!! (@milgram-valentines-exchange) Happy Valentine's Day to @mrcrazyvillainvillainn!! I had such a fun time writing your gift!! Truly gotta let Mahiru and Mikoto be silly and happy! I really hope you enjoy!! I've never written a ship fic for any of the prisoners, so I guess we ball?? (Also, let me know if you want the art without the titles!!) JIAWODJIAOW Anyways, here we go! Please enjoy...

do i dare love you? (i have always loved you)

Is this selfish? This isn’t too much, is it? I just love you so much. How long would this dream go on? I guess we can just say that this feeling is happiness~ Do you really think you know what love is? You don’t have to keep it in and hide it away. "I love you", the reason why I'm here This is how "I" will love "you"! --- "To be honest, Mikoto Kayano didn't know what to expect." "Mahiru Shiina fixes the flowers in a bouquet and hands it off to the customer." (Mikoto Kayano and Mahiru Shiina love each other in the smallest of moments.)

To be honest, Mikoto Kayano didn't know what to expect. Getting a mysterious call out of the blue? Well, ah… That’s sure to scare him.

No, no, everything’s fine. No need to resort to anything crazy. 

Mikoto exhales and splashes some water on his face. Turning off the sink, he looks up at the mirror and flashes himself a smile. 

…ah, okay, that was a little embarrassing. Mikoto laughs to himself as he walks out of the bathroom and back to his desk.

He drums his pen against his desk as he moves his mouse around to turn his computer back on. Placing his head on his hand, he scrolls through emails and emails.

…

It’s just the same emails. “Fix that.” “I liked the original design better; can you do it again?” “The deadline moved. Make sure your designs are ready for–”

Ping!

Mikoto blinks and glances over at his phone. 

New Message: make sure to come soon! 

Right, yeah. Mikoto has to head back home soon. Okay, he should really get a start on his work so he can head home early!

Sitting straight, Mikoto pulls up some designs on his computer and grabs the small stack of papers. 

With one more glance at the ideas given, Mikoto starts designing.

Mikoto leans back in his chair and slumps back. The design… is done! This is where Mikoto pretends to hear a soft achievement noise. Ding!

Anyways, Mikoto exhales and looks at the papers on his desk. The design is nice! One of his finest designs, actually. He flips through the papers and nods to himself, happy with the result. 

In the corner of his eye, he notices his boss and quickly waves him down. The second his boss looks at him with a small smile, Mikoto realizes his desk is an absolute mess. 

Ack–! Why did he leave his energy drink can here? Oh, these papers need to be in a folder–

Right after Mikoto finishes rearranging his desk, his boss finally makes it to his desk.

“Chief! I finished the design you wanted me to make!” Mikoto hands the stack of designs with a small smile. His boss blinks, clearly surprised at how fast Mikoto finished the designs. He flips through the small stack, checking each design.

 

His serious expression seriously doesn’t tell me anything… Mikoto internally groans.

“Good job, Kayano.” His boss places the stack underneath his arm. “These will probably suffice for our client. Do you have other designs that need to be completed?” “Ah, um–” Mikoto looks around at his desk. He doesn’t think he does. “...No…?’

“Oh?” His boss asks, surprised for some reason. Hey, Mikoto knows how to finish his work if it isn’t being constantly changed! “Ah… Alright then… I guess you…” His boss looks around the office. “...Actually, it looks like everyone is preoccupied.”

Mikoto shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Please don’t give him more work. Please don’t give him more work. 

His boss lifts his wrist and looks at his watch. “Hm… It’s seven. Earlier than I would like to let anyone out.” 

Oh, please. Please. Please-!!

His boss sighs. “Alright, Kayano. You may head home early today. I’m only doing this because you’ve got most of your work under control and I unfortunately don’t want to bother your coworkers with giving you their work.” You would anyway, but you seem to be in good spirits today…? “Thank you, Chief!” Mikoto smiles. “Don’t expect this often from me. Have a good night.” His boss turns right around and walks away, going over to a different cubicle. Mikoto watches as his boss walks away and pumps his fist.

Woo! I’m free! Mikoto grins to himself as he packs his stuff into his bag. Standing up, he shuts his computer off and looks around.  To be honest, he feels really bad for his coworkers… 

But, he promised to get home as soon as he could. Mikoto glances at his phone, specifically that one notification.

make sure to come soon!

He doesn’t want to break his promise. So, with a quiet exhale, he walks to the elevator and clicks the button to go down. The elevator doors open.

He walks in.

…

“…oh, I forgot to press the button to the lobby–” Mikoto mumbles as he quickly clicks the button down.

Mikoto hears the key click in the lock and turns the doorknob. As he walks into his apartment, the lights are all out.

“I could’ve sworn I left the lights on…?” Mikoto mumbles as he takes the key out of the lock and shrugs off his coat. He slowly walks through his apartment, fumbling for the lights. 

His hands land on the switch and Mikoto flips the lights on–

Arms wrap around Mikoto’s neck. Something makes Mikoto twitch. “Surprise~!”

Mikoto jumps. 

Mahiru laughs above him as Mikoto lies on the ground, dazed. “Ma– Mappi???” Someone relaxes.

“Hehe~ Did I scare you?” Mahiru giggles, absolutely beaming. “A… a little, yeah!” Mikoto dusts himself off. “I think I hit my head… Ow…”

Mahiru’s laughter immediately stops. “Ah– did I hurt you? Hey, let me see–”  Mahiru quickly kneels on the floor and scoots next to Mikoto. “No, no. I’m okay, I promise– Please don’t worry!” Mikoto gives a weak smile. “Let me just look, okay?” Mahiru says, with a soft voice filled with concern. (Her voice is always soft, but these moments, they're just a little bit more comforting. Maybe it’s Mikoto being too detail-oriented recently, but he’s decided to notice the smaller things.)

Mikoto swallows. “Okay.”

She looks at the back of Mikoto’s head, checking for any bumps or bruises.  The moment is silent as Mahiru looks all over Mikoto’s head for anything and Mikoto sits there, quiet.

To be honest, he doesn’t want to say anything. He doesn’t want to ruin it. It’s… those small moments, right? When you know someone loves you. Those are the moments you want to hold in your hands because they’re so fuzzy and warm. 

“I love you,” Mikoto whispers. 

There’s a pause. Mahiru stops checking his hair. Her hands are still. She’s not moving. 

Did he ruin it? Maybe he should apologize and–

“I love you, too,” Mahiru whispers back.

And, they’re back to silence.

Mahiru scoots back in front of him. “You’re okay. Nothing too bad, okay?” 

She says it with a voice that makes him know she cares: a warm, loving voice. It makes him want to cry just because she loves him. 

And, he loves her. And, he'll make sure she knows that.

“Okay,” Mahiru says, her voice oddly strained. Is… is she about to cry? “Um… Okay, I made some food for you. I– I know you don’t usually like big gestures and I really shouldn’t push myself, but… I think you deserve it, okay?”  “Okay.” Mikoto nods. He stands up and gives a hand to Mahiru, who takes it with a small giggle. “Hehe, this feels like a fairy tale~” She hums.

“Hey, can I…?” “Eh? Do what?” Mahiru asks, with a tilted head. “I mean, whatever it is, I don’t mind~”  

Mikoto places a small kiss on Mahiru’s cheek.  “Ah–!! Hey–! Oh–” She’s red, blushing from ear to ear. 

Mikoto laughs. “That was payback.” “Oh, you-!!” Mahiru has an angry look, but her smile says otherwise. “Fine, fine! That’s fair. Okay, come on, let’s eat~ I don’t want our food to be cold!” Mahiru grabs Mikoto’s hand in hers, trying to drag him over to the table.

Her hands are warm.  Mahiru quickly pauses as she looks at Mikoto and their hands. “Is everything okay…?” Mikoto nods.

“Everything’s perfect.”

Mahiru Shiina fixes the flowers in a bouquet and hands it off to the customer. “Have a good afternoon~” She grins.

As the shopkeeper’s bell rings to show the customer has left, Mahiru sighs and melts into the counter.  “Shiina…? Are you alright?” One of her coworkers asks as they walk over. Mahiru mumbles something into the counter.  “Uh…” They laugh. “Okay, I’m guessing you’re not okay. Um…”

Mahiru keeps her head on the counter as she hears her coworker’s footsteps slowly disappear.

Mahiru sighs. She’s really tired… She wasn’t able to get any sleep last night. She doesn’t even know why. She just couldn’t sleep. A lady like her should be getting her beauty sleep! 

Oh, well… She’ll just have to brave the storm! 

Mahiru quickly lifts her head up and instantly gets hit with a fit of dizziness. 

Ah, that was a bad idea…

As Mahiru quickly blinks away the dizziness, she notices her boss and coworker walking over. 

“I wasn’t doing anything–! I mean, I was doing something, I promise!” Mahiru awkwardly laughs as she waves her hands around defensively. Her boss shakes her head. “Mahiru, you can head home. We don’t expect that many people today, and you seem tired. I can cover whatever is left of your shift.” “Ah, but–” “I’ll pay you for your full shift, alright? Just head home.” “Okay.” Mahiru hesitantly nods and takes off her apron as she heads to the break room to grab her stuff. 

When Mahiru returns with her belongings, her coworker hands her a small bouquet with lilyturf, dahlias, forget-me-nots, and red lilies. 

“I know you’ve enjoyed taking these kinds of flowers home recently, so here you are!” As Mahiru opens her mouth to speak, her coworker continues, “And, don’t worry about the charge. I already paid for it.” Mahiru blinks, taking the bouquet and looking at it. “Ah… Oh. Thank you.” Mahiru smiles at the flowers.

“Of course! Now, rest well!”

Mahiru smiles at her coworker before leaving the store, the shopkeeper’s bell ringing behind her.

Mahiru hums as she enters her apartment and quickly walks over to her table near the couch, grabbing water from the kitchen. She places her bag on the floor next to the couch.

Sitting on the couch, she pours some water into a glass vase. Then, she places her bouquet in the vase.

Mahiru looks at the bouquet for a few moments, admiring each flower.

When she yawns, she finally lowers her head on a pillow and slowly…

Closes…

Her eyes…

There’s a smell of food cooking in the air.  She feels warm.

Mahiru slowly blinks the sleepiness from her eyes and looks around. 

…why is there a blanket on her…?  Is someone cooking?

Confused, she pushes herself upright and glances at the kitchen.

Mikoto.

Mikoto is cooking.

“Huh…?” Mahiru blurts out, sleepy and confused. Mikoto looks over at Mahiru. “Oh, hey! You’re awake! Sorry, I tried calling you, but you were asleep. Um, so I let myself in with the spare key!” 

Mahiru glances at her bag on the floor and quickly picks it up. Opening it, she searches for her phone. When she finally finds it, she turns it on and sees the notifications flood her lock screen.

3 Missed Calls

10 New Messages:

hey, mappi ^^!!

i’m off from work so i’m coming to visit!

Ah wait you might be at work

Go back to work!!

i think your door is locked??

hello?

mappi??

i’m letting myself in, ok?

oh dear where’s your key

found it!! Coming in now :D

Mahiru rambles as she stares at the notifications, “Ah– I didn’t realize you were calling. I’m so sorry, please forgive me–”

“Hey, hey. It’s all good!” Mikoto smiles. “You were tired, so I let you sleep. I grabbed a blanket from your closet. Hope that’s okay!”

Mahiru nods and sits there for a moment, not sure what to do.

She glances over at the table, spotting the bouquet. She looks at Mikoto, who has a smile on his face as he tries to cook some soup. 

She knows why she likes getting these flowers.

They remind her of Mikoto.

They remind her of how much she loves him.

She loves him.

“Hey, let me help you, okay~?” Mahiru sings as she hops up and skips over to the kitchen. “No, I’m okay. I can cook, see?” Mahiru looks at the small pot Mikoto is using to cook soup. 

It’s… hm… not the best soup…?

“Just let me help you, alright?” “Alright, alright.” Mikoto, stepping back, raises his hands. “Show me what you want to do.”

Mahiru quickly slides in front of Mikoto and glances at the pot. "Can you wrap your arms around me?"

"Eh–?" Mikoto coughs in shock. "Yeah, yeah– Um…" 

Mikoto quickly wraps her arms around Mahiru and looks over her shoulder as he tries to stir.

“Mhm~” Mahiru hums. “You’re stirring a little too harshly. Relax, okay?”  “Alright.” Mikoto slowly stirs the soup.  “Still too tense. Okay, hold on.” Mahiru places her hands on his. “Okay, now… We’ll do this together, okay?” 

Mikoto is quiet. Mahiru takes that as his yes.

Mahiru, with Mikoto’s hands in hers, slowly stirs the soup. She murmurs some small compliments.

Mahiru lets go of his hands and smiles. “See, you’re doing it now!”  Mikoto breathes a sigh of relief. “Is it better? Honestly, I really couldn’t tell the difference.” “Hmm… Well, I guess there really isn’t.” Mahiru shrugs. “But, I think the amount of quiet, slow care you put into something will show itself." She's made herself learn that love can be soft and strong. Ever since her last boyfriend and she broke up on... amicable terms, she's tried being better. For love, and for who she loves. “I see.” “...I know it really doesn’t make sense. I’m sorry.” Mahiru shakes her head and slides out from in front of Mikoto.

“No, no. It makes sense, I promise.” Mikoto looks over at Mahiru with a smile. “It shows that you care.”

Mahiru smiles back.

After a few moments with Mahiru helping Mikoto cook, they finally eat together at the table. 

“Mappi?” Mikoto fidgets with his spoon. “Hmm?” Mahiru hums, food in her mouth. “Thank you.”

Mahiru blinks and just nods. “Y-yeah, of course…!”

Ah– That was so embarrassing…! Not at all lady-like! I should’ve just…!!

“I really don’t cook often, so that was really helpful. Haha…” Mikoto rubs his neck with a smile. “I mean, I do cook! It’s just… noodles and stuff.” “Well, now you know how to cook one more thing!” Mahiru smiles.

“Yeah.” Mikoto looks at Mahiru with a loving smile on his face.

His smile is so sweet. He even tries to do stuff he’s never done before for me! Ack… My heart can’t take it–!!

I love you.

Mikoto stares at Mahiru before laughing. 

“E-eh?? What did I do??” “Nothing, nothing. I love you, too.” Mikoto grins.

…she said that out loud…

Mahiru is instantly embarrassed. She feels warm again, but she’s not wearing a blanket. “Oh… Ah–”  “Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s sort of cute, I think…?” Mikoto rubs his neck. “Ah– If you say so…!!”

The two of them continue eating when Mikoto suddenly speaks up again. “Hey, did you mean to make you help me feel like one of those scenes from a movie…?” “E-eh?? No, no, wait– Ah. I really didn’t, I swear!!” Mahiru frantically shakes her head. Mikoto blinks, seeming to realize Mahiru is a little panicked. “Hey, no! I thought it was sweet–!”

Mahiru awkwardly laughs. “I’m glad you do… Um… Maybe I was subconsciously inspired by something…?”

“That’s okay.” Mikoto shrugs. “Everything you do is sweet.”

Mahiru beams. 

“If it’s for you, I’ll make sure it’s worth everything.”

[salty-croissants]

Could u write a fluff fic where the reader comforts ramon/rayman after a rough night or bad dream :3

I love this kinda scenario and would love to see it in your writing 💗

Thank you for the request ! 

A comfort scenario for my favorite limbless man ? Yes please :,) ❤️

I really enjoyed writing this , I’m always down to give him some well deserved affection ! 

Hope these turned out okay ! 

Details : use of gender neutral reader ; 

established relationships ; 

presence of mild swearing in Ramon’s part and general angst with following fluff  

Rayman 🧡

< Oh Rayman … are you seriously that stupid ?

We gave you one job , one simple job , and you managed to mess that up too ? >

< I … I’m sorry … > 

Rayman fearfully looked up at the silhouettes of the Directors towering over him …

What did he even do wrong ? He couldn’t bring himself to remember … 

He always did a good job , didn’t he ? 

his performances were always met with enthusiasm by the public , weren’t they ? 

< And to think that we gave you everything you could ever want , lifting you from the dirt when everyone thought of you as a monster … how ungrateful can you possibly be ? > 

< I-I know that - 

Just please , tell me what I did wrong , I’m sure I can fix it ! > 

There was a moment of silence , before the Directors begun to fade away in the darkness , leaving Rayman completely alone .

< No - wait a second —

Please , PLEASE give me one more chance ! Whatever I did - I won’t do it again , I swear !!  

DON’T LEAVE ME HERE !!! > 

He tried to run behind them , hoping , praying that he would’ve been able to explain himself , but even though it felt like he was getting farther and farther away from where he was before they were just … gone . 

< No … no no no … why is this happening … > 

Rayman felt completely lost and abandoned in that moment … but the second he realized a familiar silhouette was approaching his eyes widened and a glimpse of hope appeared in his troubled mind .

< y/n !!

Oh thank god … thank god you’re here ! I’m so happy to see y - > 

Then he saw it … the way you were looking at him : the sheer disappointment in your eyes made that little glimpse of hope crumble to dust … but could he really blame you ?

He knew that without his job and his fame he was nothing , so now that the Directors had thrown him out why would someone as wonderful as you want to be with a limbless freak ?

Those thoughts finally caused him to crack , and Rayman took a few steps in your direction to then drop on his knees , the sound of his tears falling on the ground and his helpless sobs filling the endless darkness all around …

< I’m sorry … I-I’m so sorry , y/n … I wasn’t good enough … I know I don’t deserve you , I know I don’t , but please …

P-please don’t leave me … don’t … leave … > 

< Ray … ? > 

The sound of your voice and the sensation of your hand gently caressing his cheek made Rayman slowly wake up from that terrible dream , and as soon as he saw your face he managed to calm himself down …

< H … hey , y/n … 

Sorry , I didn’t mean to wake you … > 

, he whispered , smiling at you weakly as an attempt to avoid making you worry about him .

< It’s okay sweetie , you don’t have to apologize , but … > 

You stared at your boyfriend with concern while your fingers wiped away a few more of his tears .

< Are you alright ? > 

Rayman sighed in response , leaving a kiss on your palm .

< … I’ve been better … > 

< Wanna talk about it ? > 

< Mm … maybe tomorrow . 

You need to get some more rest , and I gotta be ready in time for that interview . 

It’s not a big deal anyway … don’t worry about it too much , okay ? > 

You weren’t exactly convinced by what he said , but still you nodded , locking him in a tight embrace and giving him a kiss on the nose .

< Okay … sleep well Ray , I love you … > 

Those words were exactly what he needed to hear after what he saw , and as Rayman placed his head against your chest he couldn’t help but feel a beautiful peace melting all his fears away …

You were the only person in the world who could make him feel that way .

< Thank you … 

I love you too y/n , so , so much … ~ >

Ramon 🖤

The sounds of shots being fired all around him was almost deafening , and as Ramon ran through the battlefield he just couldn’t bring himself to stop : 

he needed to get out of there , far away from Eden … he needed to lead the both of you to safety , no matter how many of those assholes he would’ve had to kill . 

< Come on y/n , this way ! 

We’re so close - > 

When he turned around it took a few seconds for him to realize the fact that you weren’t behind him anymore … 

And his heart sunk . 

< y/n … ?

y/n where are you ?? > 

Ramon instantly turned back , despite the knowing full well that it was probably a death sentence for him …

He had to find you .

That was all that mattered . 

< y/n !! y/n where - 

Agh - get off me you bastard — 

Y/N !!! > 

His voice was barely audible among the chaos … he couldn’t even think straight anymore , just shooting whoever tried to get in his way and moving forward while unsure about where he was going .

… then , he saw your silhouette laying on the ground , and he immediately rushed towards you , a strange mixture of panic and relief overwhelming his every thought .

< y/n - y/n I’m here ! 

I’m here love , you’re gonna be o … kay … > 

When he got a better view of you , Ramon felt as if time around him had just stopped , leaving only him with that terrible vision of your bleeding body : 

it looked like you had been shot all over … many , many times , and you didn’t seem to be moving anymore . 

< No … no … ! > 

His shaky hands held you close to him , as he found himself unable to hold back his tears .

< Oh god please no … not them … n-not them … 

y/n , please … please come back … I need you , I-I need you so much … > 

The last thing Ramon could do before everything faded to black was just scream , a terrible , devastating despair shattering him from the inside …

What was he even going to do now … ?

He had lost you , his beloved partner , his everything … 

Was that … the end ? 

Ramon gasped , getting into a sitting position with his heart pounding in his chest , and he immediately turned around to check if you were next to him …

And you were , thankfully : 

you had started to wake up when you heard your boyfriend muttering your name in his sleep , and now you were looking up at him with a worried expression , wondering what he had seen .

< Ramon , honey … are you oka - > 

He didn’t answer , he just laid back down to hold you in his arms , his breathing still sharp and abnormally fast .

< Please , please don’t … I can’t talk about it now .

I just need to feel you here with me , y/n … that’s … that’s all I need … > 

Your gaze softened as you hugged him back , caressing his hair with one hand and feeling his tensed body slowly relax thanks to your loving gestures …

It wasn’t the first time Ramon had a nightmare , his nights were often tormented by visions of Eden finally catching up to the both of you , and while you couldn’t exactly make his fears go away completely you were always able to make him feel better . 

< That’s fine … here , try to breathe a bit slower , okay ? 

I got you Ram , I’m not going anywhere , I promise . > 

He opened his eyes for a brief moment to look at you , before leaning forward to place a small kiss on your lips …

< Thanks … 

I … don’t know what I’d do without you , my love . > 

[ask-the-bone-boys]

ATBB's Future

Hiiii y'all, its uh. been a minute huh

Now that it's been a bit over a year since I put this blog on hiatus, a loootta stuff has happened and changed and i've been doing a loootttta thinking!

Looking back on it, like really really looking, my biggest reason for the hiatus was that at some point the blog just kinda became more of a chore than something I wanted to work on for fun. Ask blogs are a lot of work, even when you're just using talking portraits rather than drawing out every individual answer, and with how much ask culture on tumblr has died out over the years there just wasn't really enough payoff to make it feel worthwhile to keep burning myself out.

I think it's a really good thing I stopped it when I did, because having to deal with all that in my senior year of high school would have been a nightmare. I've actually just finished up my first semester of college now, and there's no way in hell I would've been able to keep up at any rate! With all of this in mind, I've gained a newer perspective about how to approach things going forward.

I'm still really attached to this story. With how much time I've spent thinking about it and developing it in my head, I can't let it go, even if the blog isn't really working out anymore. I keep thinking of different ways I could fix the decisions I made early on, as well as the super cool directions I could take it in in the future, and I just. I GOTTA.

So, I've decided to reboot it entirely as a fic series!

This means that, unfortunately, there won't be nearly as much artwork to accompany it, but it's far more likely for the story to actually progress! Writing is way less draining for me and once I get going I can do it much quicker than art anyway, even though I do still sorta wish I had the spoons to just turn it into a full-blown webcomic instead haha

This DOES mean that updates won't be nearly as linear as they were here, seeing as right now I've mostly been working on backstory fics that took place before the blog's main story, but that can at least give you guys more context for how the characters interact with each other! I'll also state that while I do write faster than I draw, I still do it a hell of a lot less, so updates will still probably be pretty infrequent. But at least they'll happen at all, right?

As for the state of this blog itself, obviously I'm going to leave it up! I still love looking back on the old interactions you guys had with my characters and your reactions to certain plot points (your reactions to Fluff tagging along with the rest of the group were my favorite by far) and I think it would actually kill me to erase them. I'll be posting the fic updates here too, just like I did for Self Hatred!

And even if it's not going to be an ask blog anymore, because of how much I still miss that kind of interaction with you guys, I think I want to do a sort of "last hurrah" event, to finally send off the asking format with some good vibes.

You see, there's a character I made up around this time of year two years ago. He's a pretty cool guy, but he doesn't actually show up until a specific turning point later in the story. I've been excited for you guys to talk to him since the day I made him, but a little bummed lately that you may not ever get the chance. I still need to get a lot of stuff prepared, so I'm not quite ready to announce or start anything just yet, but there's a reason I waited until my winter break to start thinking about this seriously.

I think you guys would really like to meet him.

But anyway, that's about all I wanted to say for now! This is a very long post already so it's time I start wrapping it up. As always, thank you all so much for sticking with me, even though I really haven't been consistent through the years. I hope this change doesn't come as too much of a disappointment, and that you'll keep sticking around for the reboot!

[marionluth]

I'm working on a new story based on an awesome prompt given in the Iron Dad: Readers and Writers discord.

The prompt is basically: Peter dresses up as a Goth for Halloween. Tony doesn't realize it is Halloween and thinks he's going through a goth face for real and wants to be supportive. Comedic chaos ensues.

Excerpt (first draft, don't judge too much pretty please! I was just really excited to share something 😁 ) 👇

TW: theres mention of depression and self harm as scientific studies findings. Not as something any of the characters in the excerpt or particular fic struggles with. Still mentioning it just to be safe. This whole story is entirely crack-taken-seriously.

[...] Tony reached for his coffee mug and downed a generous gulp before turning to Happy, invoking his patience. “I sent you for the kid, Happy. Where’s Pete?”

“He’s coming, but you gotta play it cool.”

“I… What?”

“You gotta play it cool, okay? Don’t come at the kid. Teenagers are like that, they do stupid things all the time. So, just remember to play it cool and definitely don’t laugh,” Happy said hastily, looking behind his shoulder as if worried Peter would hear his weird little speech.

Tony could tell Happy could barely hold it together. His friend was ready to burst into his thundering belly-laugh and Tony brought the mug to his lips again, knowing he’d need a lot of caffeine to take whatever was coming. His sleep-deprived brain jumped to Spider-Man. Maybe the kid had skipped school to patrol? But then again Peter never skipped school. Maybe the kid found some action before coming here and got injured? But Happy knew Tony would never laugh over an injury. That was Peter’s thing. He didn’t have time to contemplate this any further, as the doors of the lab slid open and Tony watched Peter stepping inside.

He sputtered in his mug and felt his eyes bulging, but Happy cleared his throat, and Tony immediately schooled his expression. Slowly lowering the cup, he wiped droplets of coffee from his face with the back of his hand.

“Hey, kid,” he managed, his eyes taking in Peter head to toe. Jesus Christ. Was this karma? This should definitely be karma. And MJ. This was one hundred percent MJ influenced. Damnit, he might need to have words with that girl.

“Hey, Mr. Stark.”

Happy exhaled loudly through his nose and Tony knew the man would burst out in laughter any second now. Sure enough a second later Happy snickered which he immediately tried to cover with a cough.

Tony slowly turned to glare at him. Oh, so he could laugh? “You okay there, Hap? Need some water or anything?”

“No, nope,” Happy managed after clearing his throat, his tone too mirthful for Tony’s liking. “Just something in my throat. All good now.”

“Right, Hap, thanks for the update. We’ll call you when it’s time to take Peter home,” Tony said trying to sound his usual self, but his mind was still in a daze at what he was seeing. If Happy hadn’t come in to warn him, he’d be entirely sure he was hallucinating.

Happy scurried out of the lab, and Peter walked towards Tony and looked up at him, waiting. Tony stared down at the kid, still trying to process.

Peter smacked his black-tinted lips. “So what are we doing today?”

The question gave Tony something to grab on and he immediately turned his attention to the computer. “I am writing a new code to fix an issue with the new drone. Wanna jump in?”

“Sure Mr. Stark,” Peter bobbed his head and a strand of raven black hair fell on his white-makeup covered forehead.

Tony stepped aside to give Peter the floor and let out a slow breath, finally having the chance to take in the kid’s appearance without Peter knowing. Black dyed hair, full-on goth makeup complete with dark eyeshadow, eyeliner and black lipstick. Black leather jacket, a band t-shirt (who the hell were Bauhaus?), ripped black jeans, weathered black converse shoes. A goddamn piercing on his left ear and another above his right eyebrow.

Tony found himself swerving between worried, amused, and entirely out of his water.

“Keep working on that and I’ll be right, back, kid,” he told Peter, who turned to look at him questioningly. “Coffee refill,” Tony said, raising his mug. “We’re all out down here, so I’ll fetch some from upstairs. I’ll get you some hot chocolate and snacks too.”

“Sounds good, Mr. Stark. Thank you.”

Tony rushed out of the lab and headed to the elevator, letting out an audible huff when the doors closed behind him.

“FRIDAY has my kid turned emo?”

“Peter’s attire and makeup is not emo, but goth, boss.”

“Give me dets and if I have anything to worry about, FRI.”

“Goth is a subculture that emerged in the late 1970s, characterized by dark, mysterious, and often romantic aesthetics. It includes fashion elements like black clothing, dramatic makeup, and accessories, as well as music genres such as goth rock and post-punk. There have been a few studies indicating that teenagers who identified with the goth subculture were more likely to experience depression and engage in self-harm.”

Tony blanched.

“The kid might have depression? Might self-harm?”

“Correlation does not imply causation, boss. A lot of teenagers choose the goth style and subculture as a form of expressing individuality.”

“Ok, you know the drill. Parenting forums, parenting experts, scan and tell me what do I do?”

“The consensus is this is likely a phase, boss. And that you should remain supportive to Peter’s chosen form of self-expression. A lot of parents stress that in their experience if you don’t make a big deal out of it, it will likely pass sooner.”

“Okay. Okay, Tony, you can do this. You’ve built a suit of armor in a cave with a box of scraps. You can handle a goth phase. Cause this just it, a phase. I remain supportive. I don’t make fun of him. I don’t make a big deal out of it. Solid plan.”

[thatbanditqueen]

Basic Training Chapter 5

Summary: Bess has plans to spend the evening having a picnic dinner with Elvis on post, and tries to juggle her family and keeping her relationship with Elvis a secret as her father presses her about her future.

Warnings: Some very heavy petting, dry humping, female orgasm (gasp), and discussions of mental illness, the Holocaust and Cold War operations. And all the usual typos.

WC: 6K

A (very very late) response to the prompt "Hey, quit splashin' me."

Many thanks to my lovely sister wives @whositmcwhatsit, @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @ellie-24 who helped me write this.

If you need to catch up, you can read the previous chapters of this fic about Elvis at Fort Hood in 1958 here

Notes:

This one got more into Bess family life, but it won't always be this top heavy in the future.

Maus and spatz are german terms of endearment. Illsa is a German nickname for Elizabeth.

Schatzeleh, bubeleh, mamaleh, these are all Yiddish terms of endearment. The Yiddish phrase "shayna maidel" means beautiful girl.

Deutsch ist die Muttersprache - German is the mother tongue.

INCOMS - abbreviation for Army Intelligence

The USIA was really a wacky Cold War PR agency for the U.S. government that set up a radio system to blast US music and news into other countries, and promote art and performers and entertainers around the world, along with other stiff. What every fic needs, more Cold War history ;)

Wednesday, April 9, 1958

Schwartz Residence, Killeen TX

6:45 a.m.

Bess hovered over her sister’s shoulder and grabbed a piece of toast off her plate, scooping up some scrambled eggs and chewing as she dodged Kay’s swats to pour a cup of coffee.

“Curlers again? Jeeze, Bess, that’s the third day in a row you’ve worn curlers to sleep.”

Bess hit the back of her sister’s head with her elbow.

Their father’s eyes did not leave his newspaper as Kay yelped and Bess stuck her tongue out.

“Elizabeth, you are not a nomad. Sit and eat.”

“I gotta finish getting ready, Papa.”

“Is there anything special going on today, maus?” Her father raised his eyebrows as Kay giggled.

“Or maybe someone speci - ouch!” Kay got a pinch at her back.

“Oh, no, nothing special, just wanted to look nice, I told Emily we’d go shopping after work today, Papa.”

Papa folded his newspaper, crisping the edges at Bess' expectant eyes.

“Well?”

Kay grinned into her juice.

“I was just wondering if it was ok to take my own car in again, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Ja, fine. Do you anticipate driving separately all week?”

Bess nodded, slowly, swallowing more coffee as her father’s eyes went from one daughter to the other.

“Hmm, sure are getting dolled up to go shopping with Emily OWfff.”

Kay got another swift pinch to her shoulder before Bess washed out her coffee cup and left to fix her hair.  Just as she got to the kitchen door, she heard the piano in the living room and looked back at her father.

“Did Mama wake up and go right back to work on the piano?”

“No.” Her Papa’s face went back to the newspaper.

Kay’s eyes met Bess’. “She’s been in there all night.”

“All night?”

Papa calmly set down his paper. “Your mother is fine, you know how she is. Once she starts a project, she becomes very focused. You both would benefit from such discipline. You just need to let her get it out of her system.”

Bess shook her head and ran to the living room to find her mother at the upright piano, hair wild as she wiped sweat from her brow. Mama had been hunched over sorting through a pile of tuning instruments, but her face lit up with excited energy at Bess.

“Oh Bessie, you’re doing your hair fancy again today, huh? Oh my sweet shayna maidel. Brains and beauty.” Mama stroked Bess’ cheek, then went back to hitting a key on the piano. “Ughh, hear that? Can’t get the D flat right.”

Bess tugged on her mothers house dress, the same one she had been wearing yesterday.

“C’mon, Mama, it will be easier if you rest the ole noggin, come back after you get some sleep.”

Her mother brushed off her hand.

“No, Bess, can’t you hear it? It’s all gooey, everything is gooey, when it should be tight. I can’t possible leave the plunkers gooey, it makes the whole room go orange, bubeleh.”

Bess rubbed her mother’s shoulders as she leaned her chin into Mama’s neck.

“You know the bedroom upstairs is all light and yellow, Mama, it will help you center yourself.”

Mama shook her head, and Bess sighed as she returned to the kitchen and mixed some of the thalidomide barbiturates hidden above the spice cabinet into a glass of milk.

Kay paused washing the dishes.

“Papa left.”

“Of course he did. A one star General who strikes fear into the Army Intelligence training officers, but won’t deal with his own wife.”

“That is not fair, Bess, Mama has been better since the treatment. Papa said she was great on the trip, she just needs to get back to routine and get the jitters out of her system.”

“Jitters, jitters is bupkis and you know it. Did you know Aunt Rachel came down to babysit Mama when they were in D.C.?"

Bess sighed and finished stirring the milk, and was finally able to coax Mama upstairs where she undressed her and tucked her into bed with a kiss.

“Oh Bessie, you have a yellow halo around your head schatzeleh, good things await you today, my pretty girl. “

“Thanks mamaleh, get some sleep.”

The black pumps were the last thing Bess slipped on before heading off to work, dropping Kay at school on the way. It was not far to Killeen High School, an easy 10 minute walk for Kay in her saddle shoes, but Bess wanted to talk with her.

“Can you come straight home after school? Keep an eye on Mama, maybe try to get her some sun gardening or going for a walk.

Kay nodded, tightening the scarf around her ponytail, “Sure Bess, she’s ok. I 'm telling you, she just needs rest after goin’ to DC and New York for two weeks.”

“Mmmmhmmm.”

A car of high school boys pulled up next to them, their radio blasted as they made their way to the student parking lot. The boys looked over, whistling and laughing at Bess and Kay.

“Ugh, high school boys.” Kay moaned, fluffing her hair.

“Speaking of which, my dear sister. I thought we had a deal, ixnay on the elvisay or I’ll spill the beans on how often you sneak out with Dickey and tell Papa and Mama you’re spending the night at Gloria’s.”

“Aww, heck, Bess, you know I am not doing anything wrong, not since you scared me half to death about getting pregnant and having to get a back alley abortion.”

“I wasn't trying to scare you, Kay. I just want to make sure you take precautions. And that you understand it, are sure about it, ya know, when you are ready. Sex isn’t bad,it can just have consequences. You know you can always talk to me about that stuff.”

Kay rolled her eyes and hit Bess before getting out of the car.

******************************************************************

5:15 p.m. Fort Hood Front Office

“She’s cooking brisket, and singing along with the radio.”

Bess held the phone receiver to her ear, she could hear her mother’s voice in the background along with Doris Day's. Guilt had been tugging at her heartstrings all afternoon, telling her what a selfish daughter she was to make plans with Elvis instead of going home to check on her mother. She kept listening to her sister talk as Dori come out of her father’s office and waved the CO on, telling him to bring the car around front.

“You sure everything’s okay?”

“Yes, Bess, jeeze, go already. Have fun with Emily.” Bess grimaced momentarily at Kay’s sarcasm then remembered she was trying to smile back at Dori.

Mabel was typing along, making no sign that she registered any human life in the office. Hanging up the phone, Bess began to cover her type writer.

“So y’all really don’t think I should go walk my lil ole self round about his barracks?”

The clacks from Mabel’s typewriter paused as she exhaled a deep huff of smoke, meeting Bess’s eyes for a split second before returning to her paperwork.

“Uh, no, Dori, you don’t want to be another girl chasing after Elvis Presley.”

Bess mused that quite a few members of Fort Hood’s female workforce seemed to have business near the 37th’s barracks lately. She avoided Mabel’s stoic, knowing stare as she explained that she had not seen Elvis since the night of the dance.

“He is a world famous entertainer, Doreen, adjusting to the first phase of basic training, the hardest phase. Women are probably the last thing on his mind.”

This elicited an eyebrow raise from Mabel behind Dori’s back, as the blonde conceded with a sigh that Bess was probably right and skulked out of the Command’s Front Office, flinging her handbag around in disappointment.

“The most eligible Southern bachelor in the world is at my base, even takes me on a date, but has to live in a shack with forty other men and no phone while doing drills all day.” She stomped her foot. “Jus’ isn’t fair.”

Bess stopped watching Dori walk down the hallway and pulled out her compact, giving her lipstick one last check.

“I am just glad the Executive Officer has three male children.”

“Mabel, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Like hell you don’t, that boy is gonna start world war three at this command, getting involved with two generals’ daughters. And, by the way, you need to come up with a better cover, one that doesn’t involve anyone on post.”

Flicking her cigarette, Mabel looked Bess directly in the eyes.

“General Schwartz was asking me about Emily in the switchboard office while you were at lunch.”

Bess swallowed, putting her compact away and rolling her feet back into her heels.

“Huh. Maybe I don’t give the old man enough credit?”

Mabel’s eyes were back on her typewriter. “You should go, before your father returns from his meeting and finds what is waiting for you at the bottom of the stairwell.”

Bess hesitated before she left. “I, um, I mean it, thanks, you know, for -”

“Git already, before I beat you down there and steal him for myself.”

Bess smiled as she tried very very hard to walk with calm composure down the hall and into the back stairs. Just the thought of Elvis’ touch made her tingle and Bess had to use her hands to try and keep her dress from blowing up as she danced down the stairs, heels clicking like Ginger Rogers. Heart in her throat, she nearly did a two-step on the landing mid-flight when she caught sight of a light green cap below. The cap tilted slightly, revealing lips, lips that curled into a welcome reprieve as Bess bounded down to meet him. The beat of her heart matched the sound of her breath as she launched herself onto Elvis’ mouth. He was a cushion and Bess threw herself into him unabashedly, feeling her body lift off the ground as Elvis twirled her around. It was exhilarating.

His light chuckle tickled her forehead and hands pulled her forward. “Happy to see me?”

“I guess.” Bess murmured into his clavicle. “You think too highly of yourself, Tupelo, just happy to be done with work, mostly. I actually forgot you were meeting me.”

He pulled her chin up and Bess heard her voice falter as his eyes melted her nervous system into a giddy mess.

“That why you are runnin' down these stairs like ya got a burr in ya saddle? Maybe I should check.”

His voice became slower as his hands moved from her waist to her bottom, pulling on her skirt as if to inspect it.

“Leave my saddle be, dirty boy.”

Bess cheeks flushed red swatting off Elvis’ hands and he grinned, fingers returning to their deliberate pace at her waist. Just their slow movement heated her belly, a sensation intensified by the warm air from Elvis nostrils as he nudged her eyelid. Bess was happy to see him, happy to have his arms around her, happy to have his fingers pushing the fabric of her dress back and forth over her skin. Those insistent, needy thumbs took her away from all her turmoil and into the comfort of his arms.

“So you aren't excited to see me? Go on then, tell me, tell me why you got ya hair all done up and ya lips all painted up, huh? Meeting someone else?”

Bess traced the top of his lip with her index finger, she was so close to him she could smell the faint hints of cologne, sweat and gun powder on his neck.

“I’m not meeting anyone else.” She looked up, not sure how she was summoning the strength to form words. “I just want to be here. With you.”

“Me too baby, me too.” He ran his finger over her nose. “Got lucky, boy, did I get lucky, that night I caught you stealing - ”

“ - reallocating Army resources.”

“Imma reallocate some Army resources.” He kissed her forehead, right between her eyebrows. “Right here.” She closed her eyes at the way his arms tightened around her. “Right now. For important morale operations.”

Bess’ nodded her forehead sideways into his nose and let her hands roll up his shoulders, the heat between them buzzed up her body. She sucked her bottom lip and the sound of air clicking from her mouth seemed louder in the still concrete stairwell. Bess kissed him gently at first and then with her entire being, grinding up as he thrust back into her and his hands moved to cup her face while his hips becoming sharper and more desperate. A moan escaped her mouth and Elvis stepped back, chuckling as he wiped the lipstick from his mouth.

“Let’s get out of here, huh?” Bess murmured, grasping at his waist to steady herself.

Bess tripped into him as they walked to her car, her head rotating from side-to-side, wondering if any one saw them and could tell how intimately Elvis gripped her hand. He didn’t seem to care, popping open her car door and sliding across the leather as if it were his own. His fingers were instantly over her shoulder, always pursuing physical contact, and he whistled at basket of food on the back seat.

“Watcha cook up for me, lil girl?”

“Um, just, ya, uh know, meatloaf sandwiches, potato salad, some pop.”

“Mmhmm, sounds real good, yessir boberino, real good.” Elvis growled and nibbled into Bess’ shoulder and she suddenly found driving very challenging.

Her struggle to hold the steering wheel only got worse as Elvis mumbled into her cheek while his fingers smoothed the small of her back. She tried, unsuccessfully, to elbow him away as he smirked at her breathy response. It was very clear to Bess that Elvis knew exactly what his fingers did to her as she drove them to a park at the back of Fort Hood’s residential area. Elvis lips trailed up and down her cheek in a way that made Bess not want to get out of the car, made her forget that she was hungry, made her forget her own name.  Grinning, he pulled back and pinched her side.

“Les eat, I’m so hooonnngry I could eat the north bound end of a south bound polecat.”

Elvis carried the basket of food with one hand, the other in Bess’ as she led them to a picnic table near a very small man made pond. She clucked at him to help even out the table cloth, and he grinned at the way Bess set out plates, cups and food methodically. Elvis caught her wrist as she moved to sit across from him, and guided her on to his lap.

“Where you goin’ baby? Don’t want you to get any splinters in that fine caboose.”

“Ha, ha, ha. How chivalrous.”

Bess pushed a spoon of potato salad into his mouth to shut him up as she set out the sandwiches for them, and opened the red cream soda with a bottle opener. Elvis took his pop, sucking it down.

“Just for future reference darlin, I like Pepsi.”

Bess grabbed the drink out of his hand with a playful sniff.

“This is the best cream soda this side of Little Rock, you can use it to make punch, jello, dye dresses red and clean your carburetor. And if you don’t like it, you can get your own drinks.”

Elvis pulled it back, stuffing meatloaf sandwich in his mouth before talking through his chews and taking another swig.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, now, no need to get sore.” He slapped her bottom, making her bounce up as she chewed some sandwich. “Jus’ sayin’ I like Pepsi best. ‘Sides, Dori said you were from New York, how come -”  He paused to take another gulp, “How come you like this local fizz so much?”

Bess took the bottle of Big Red from him, letting her mouth linger down and back up over the top as she sipped it, enjoying the way he raised his eyebrows while he chewed.

“Well, Private, I was born in New York. But I have lived in Killeen, Texas on and off since I was five years old. Papa was trained here before the war, and then we went back to Brooklyn while he was in London and then Germany - did your daddy fight?”

Elvis shook his head but offered no explanation, and Bess thought she saw a flicker of disdain or anger in his eyes for a split second, but it was gone. Then he pulled her closer with his right hand, holding up a sandwich to her mouth, lips apart in apt concentration as he guided the food into Bess' mouth and she giggled, swallowing it. He picked up the second bottle of pop and offered it to her as she wiped her mouth.

“Well, anyway, at first we went back and forth when Papa was overseas. We were in New York, and D.C., then he was given orders back here and they bought the house. Mama, Kay and I have stayed here whenever he got orders to go somewhere else: Heidelberg, Fort Hood, Berlin, then, you guessed it, Fort Hood, then DC, then back here. It’s been better for us to stay and go to school here.”

“So, uh, what, your daddy goes all ‘round teaching German?”

“Uh, well, yeah, mostly. Training Army officers to speak German has been a big part of his career.”

Elvis tilted his head for Bess to feed him more potato salad, his fingers otherwise occupied at her hips.

“How’d he get so interested in that?”

Bess licked the spoon they were sharing after feeding Elvis, looking across at the pond as twilight settled over the park.

“He, um, well, he actually grew up in Berlin. His parents sent him to New York in 1931 to live with his aunt and uncle.” She hesitated, scratching his collar, wondering how Elvis Presley felt about making out with Jewish girls. “You see, that was when his family’s synagogue was burned down, and they, um, started to, you know, worry.”

Elvis nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Ah, gotcha.” His hands tightened at her waist. “Ya know, this explains why Dori looked at me funny when I told her I met you outside the base Chapel.”

“Ha! Yeah, well, I could have been there picking up dates.”

“You do that often, Moo Moo?”

“Oh, yeah, good little Christian boys are my favorite.”

He bounced her on his lap and tickled her sides.

“Huh, that right? I don’t know if I like the sound a that.”

“Yeah, well, apparently I’m no good at meeting good Christian boys. Only bad ones.”

“Oh baby, you have know idea what a good boy I can be.” He drew her close for a soft kiss on her neck, and the warmth of his lips made her shiver as he talked into her nape. “I’ve been told I’m very, very, very good at bein’ a boy.”

“Ha!” She shook her head, hands clutching the back of his hair as she looked into his attentive, gleaming bright blue eyes. They made her weak. Everywhere. “Hey, you haven’t even told me how your day was, Tupelo.”

“Oh man, honey, today was a goddamn circus, and I was the lead clown, I tell ya.”

“What happened?” She played with the soft part of his ear lobe as Elvis wiped his forehead and sighed.

“Well, we had target practice for three hours today.”

“That sounds normal, it takes three hours to kill all the paper men.”

“You have idea, baby, no idea.” He looked over his shoulder, as if to make sure no one could hear him. “Well, go on ta find out I forgot to load my gun this mornin’, I was so goddamn flustered getting ready for inspection. Looked like a grade A idiot, man, standing out there front a every one.”

Bess soothed the top of Elvis’ shoulders, all the teasing lilt from a moment ago was gone from her voice as she massaged the stiff, anxiousness there.

“Boy, got me so keyed up, had ma hands in fists all day, bout nearly bust out of my uniform I as so mad at ma self.”

Bess soothed his cheek, running her hand through his hair.

“No one will remember tomorrow, I promise.”

“Huh, I bet you million dollars they all back in their barracks, writin’ home bout how they had a good laugh at Elvis Presley, the Elmer Fudd of the army.”

“I promise, if those soldiers have anyone to write home to, and that’s betting they know how to write, they aren’t wastin’ their time tellin’ their girls about the most handsome stud in America.”

Elvis looked up.

“Most handsome, what was that, baby, stud?”

“Ugh, stop, I was just tryin’ to cheer you up.”

Bess jumped up, and started packing up the picnic, and Elvis was instantly behind her, arms tugging at her was as she popped the last spoon of potato salad greedily in her mouth. He gave her a big, sloppy kiss, then let go, distracted by the water, he wondering down to the edge of the pond where he began skipping stones. She finished folding the table cloth and followed him down to the water, squatting beside him as she selected another rock and handed it to him.

“Sorry excuse for a lake, isn’t it.” Bess said, watching as Elvis aimed the flat stone across the small body of water.

“You better take that back, Moo Moo, you’re hurtin’ this poor lil baby pond’s feelins’” Elvis bent down and threw some water at Bess’ face.

“Hey,” Bess pushed him lightly, then stood up, backing away at the mischievous look in his eyes. “Quit splashin' me! You, you rock n’ roll hoodlum!”

Elvis grinned and cupped his hand full of water, throwing it at her as she backed away.

“Ohh baby, thems fighting words, better watch out!”

Bess shrieked and ran back up to the picnic table, circling around it as Elvis chased her, matching as she changed directions. Their laughter and panting filled the air until he caught her, running his dirty pond fingers through her hair with gusto as she made a face while he slapped her on the butt. Elvis quelled her protests with a kiss and brought her into his side and grabbed the food basket with his other hand. They walked  back to the car sweaty and out of breath like two giddy teenagers.

“Any lakes round here?”

Bess settled back into the car and smoothed her dress down while Elvis’ hands did their best to ruffle it back up, starting with the area over her right knee.

“There’s a reservoir, Lake Belton, bout 30 minutes away. You can go swimming, boating, horseback riding. Why?”

“This weekend phase 1 is over and I can start going off post on the weekend. Planning to see my friend Lamar, maybe some more of my guys, and I wanna take them somewhere fun Sunday. Somewheres maybe like this Lake.”

Bess tried to contain her disappointment that Elvis’ first thought wasn’t to spend the time with her. But she reminded herself that they weren’t serious, they were having a fling and besides, he saw her everyday. He sensed her mood change anyway as she sat up stiff and straight to start the car, and his hand became more attentive to her knee.

“I want you there, Bess, you’re coming out with me this weekend. Right after drills end at 1700 hours Saturday.”

“When does your friend get to town?”

“He’s already here. Lamar, he grumbles and fusses, but he is loyal and true. From Texas, too.”

“Where’s he staying?”

“At the Star Motel.” Elvis looked over at Bess, then down at where his long, thin fingers were on the inside of her knee, then back up to her eyes. “He, uh, he went and got a few a rooms so we can have a party Saturday night.” His voice became softer as he murmured. “Reckon it would be nice to have some time, just to be alone with with you, Bessie baby. Somewhere that ain’t a picnic bench. Or a car. Somewhere we could be alone and just talk.”

Bess parked behind the armory buildings near Elvis' barracks and turned to him, blushing.

“Um, yes, I guess I would like that too. To be able to just be somewhere, just talk.”

A wave of shyness suddenly overwhelmed Bess as she thought about being alone in a motel room with Elvis. What she thought he might really be asking her.  She wasn’t sure how far she wanted to go with him this soon, though she could feel desire pulsing up through her rib cage and knew that if Elvis even looked at her sideways she would throw all abandon out of the window. But she had the impression, from just the few weeks she had known him, that Elvis was more old fashioned then she would have thought. She wasn’t sure where his boundary was, as far as respecting girls who went to bed with him. But his invitation definitely seemed like a proposition and the prospect of sleeping with him was at once exciting and terrifying.

Bess began to fiddle with her hands where they lay in her lap and Elvis picked up her left hand, bringing it to his cheek and kissing her palm delicately.

“Hey there, lil Moo Moo, you’re so pretty. How’d I catch the prettiest lil moo cow in the field, hmmm?”

The words rumbled out of Elvis mouth in a low babyish voice and his eyelids drooped down in time with his bottom lip. Bess’ chest tightened, and it felt like the world tilted sides when she pulled him in and he kissed her down into the leather seat. They pawed at each other there, exploring how their noses fit together as their tongues played tug of war for control. It sent a jolt straight to Bess’ core when she felt his excitement stiffen against her thigh and she smiled into his goofy bedroom eyes.

“Hey, wait, are you calling me a cow, Elvis Presley?”

Elvis shook his head, his face focused on where his right fingers brushed over her breast, savoring Bess’ shiver, as his knuckles trailed back down over the hills and valleys of her skirt. Her blood rushed between her legs and she took a deep breath.

His fingers were back at her bosom, setting her skin on aflame with the way his finger tips trailed back and forth circling her breast.

“Mmmmhmm, not jus any cow, baby, you the prettiest little milk cow, bet you have the sweetest.” He bite his lip as he circled the cloth around her nipple again. “Cream.”

Bess exhaled out with a gasp, curling her left fingers at his wrist as he spoke.

“Makin' me want dessert.”

Elvis’ hand stayed at her side where she held it, his fingers brushing against her dress, but it was his eyes that knocked the wind from her lungs as they moved downward to settle on the apex between her legs. Elvis bit his lips and Bess felt a desperate flame tingle out from her core. No one had ever done what he was hinting at, and it scared her. Suddenly she didn’t consider herself as experienced as she had before. She had slept with what, twenty men? And no one had ever kissed her there. That was something she needed to prepare for, perhaps double the talcum powder she applied. Coughing, Bess slide out from him to sit upright and straighten her dress. Elvis’ hands were back on her hips, pulling her over to straddle his lap.

“You know, Moo Moo, I’d never do nothin’ you don wanna.”

Elvis kissed her neck as she nodded.

“I bet you taste sweet, though.”

Bess swatted him playfully, then gripped his shoulder as he nibbled her ear. Playtime was over. A feverish yearning took over and she met his hips as they rocked up into her. Bess’ heart was racing, Elvis slow and deliberate movements made him different from any man she had ever been with. He halted mid thrust to savor the moment, and his eyes looked deep into hers with a longing and and an eagerness to please. They were an invitation and a command that he followed with his fingers, trailing them softly over the curve of her breasts. She could feel his cock twitch when he noticed her shudder, or felt her nipples harden, and she knew what made Elvis different. Her pleasure turned him on.

So she chased it, moving in tandem to the rhythm of his thighs while she pushed her lips on top of his, feeling his tongue meet hers once more. She felt his bulge and sought the friction of it between her legs. His movements became more urgent, and Bess’ grasped for anything she could find to hold on to as the car filled with sound of heaving, gulping, loud moans. Her orgasm erupted suddenly with a litany of “oh Gods,” and Elvis thumbs stroked her cheeks as he shushed the fear and hesitancy from her.

“I gotcha, I gotcha, sshhhhh baby, don worry. Jus ride it out. That’s a good lil girl.”

Bess’ chest heaved up as she remembered how to breathe. This was the most intimate experience she had ever had, and all of her clothes were still on. She half chuckled as she steadied herself, meeting Elvis triumphant, satisfied eyes.

“Wow.”

“You ok, honey? Make me think you ain’t never tussled with a boy before.”

“Not like that.”

His mouth curled into a big crooked grin, and she laughed up into the ceiling.

“Huh, well, that’s true, Bess, and you won’t never find someone like me again, neither. I got moves you ain't never seen, honey." He smirked. "Stick with me, I told you, I’m a very good boy.”

“Good at being bad.”

Laughing, she shifted and noticed his erection still lingered in his pants and so she moved her hand to rub over it but he stilled her.

“Don’t you want me to take care of you, Tupelo?” She kissed his cheek, lips moving down his neck. “ Make you feel good? I  - I can, you know -”

Elvis patted her hand back into her lap and kissed the words out of her mouth.

“You were perfect tonight, Bess, perfect. But I jus as soon keep a lid on it. You don’t make it easy, though, baby, been makin’ me crazy all night, just walking round and sittin’ on me with all that equipment in your undercarriage.”

“Guess I know one pistol you have no trouble loading.”

Elvis tilted his neck back, laughing as he squeezed her waist as they made their goodbyes over a push and pull of kisses for the next fifteen minutes.

****************************************************************

Schwartz Residence, Killeen TX

9:30 p.m.

The moon followed Bess in the clear night sky as she left post, still feeling Elvis’ hands all over her, hearing his laughter in her ears. She was giddy from the blissful release she had found on his lap, it had washed away all the tension she' 'd had carrying with her through the day. Hurrying up the stairs to her house, Bess stumbled upon her mother in the kitchen making camomile tea.The creases at the corners of Mama’s large brown eyes pinched together in a big smile.

“Oh Bessie Bess, my baby, you’re home late. Want some sleepy time tea, my shayna maidel?”

Bess strode over and put her arms around her mother’s back, leaning on her shoulder as her mother poured the kettle into the teapot, her chest filled with affection.

“Sure Mamaleh, I’d love some.”

Papa’s voice rang out from his office, so she kissed her mother’s cheek and promised to be right back.

“Aw, Elizabeth, how was your day shopping with, who, Emily, was it?”

Bess leaned against the doorway of his office, glad her father was at least making the pretense of settling down for the night in his dressing gown and pajamas. A pipe was in his hand as he read over some paperwork.

“Good, Papa, thanks for asking.”

“Gut, gut, ja.” He pushed his glasses up, and looked over his desk at his daughter, taking in her slightly disheveled hair, rumpled dress and newly applied lipstick below flushed cheeks. “You know, I thought your mother made two meatloaves for supper last night.”

“Oh, well, I took some for lunch today, Papa. I didn’t know you wanted it.”

“No, ja, I was just looking for a snack earlier, but no bother, no bother.” He put his papers down. “Are you still thinking of law school, because I saw General Brandon when we were in D.C.”

“I don’t want to go do propaganda for the U.S. government, Papa.”

“Yes, well, it’s not propaganda, spatz, it’s goodwill initiatives. This war is more about minds than mines, ja? Brandon’s information program is just making sure other countries have the opportunity to experience American art and culture. Someone with your background and expertise in foreign affairs, you’d be a good fit for a post open this fall. And they want women, smart, focused, attractive women like you. You would be perfect for this job.”

Bess tapped her fingers over her belt, she had not been thinking about her research project at all, or her law school applications for that matter. No, her head had been elsewhere, and she felt pangs of shame and guilt as she considered what her father was bringing up. Her future. Specifically, he was back at it trying to convince her to work for one of the newer programs in D.C. that his colleague in Army Intelligence had founded: the United States Information Agency. Its mission was officially “public diplomacy” overseas, but Bess knew it was essentially a PR agency for the United States.

“Is it in the Berlin office?”

“Ack, Illsa, Berlin is a coveted office, you have to work your way up to it. No. Helsinki.”

“I don’t even speak Finnish, or Swedish, and -”

“It is right there at the lion’s mouth, Ilsa, there’s a lot of action in Helsinki. All the spies from Moscow are coming through it. And the goodwill tours behind the Iron Curtain go off from there. It would be, what, two years? A stepping stone to Berlin maybe?  Besides, Deutsch ist die Muttersprache, you’d pick up Swedish and Finnish like that.” Papa snapped his fingers.

“Mmmhmm. Well, you got my attention. But what about Mama?” Bess fingers clenched in a fist. “She seems like she is backsliding.”

“She doesn’t do well when her routine is disrupted, you know that. She will be fine, give her a few days to settle.” Papa sucked on his pipe, and the sweet smell of tobacco reached Bess’ nose. “And, well, you know I expect orders to INCOMS headquarters any day. That will be my last post before retirement, and I promised Mama New York after that. In the meantime, your Aunt Rachel wants to come and live with us in D.C.”

“What about Kay? I thought she wanted to go to Baylor.”

Papa’s elbow banged down on his desk, as he rearranged his paperweights, then he kept talking as he got up and put a jazz record on.

“Katharina applied to Georgetown, Radcliffe, Smith and many, many other colleges, she will be fine. She would also be fine at Baylor if she is determined to follow her silly friends there.”

Bess nodded, thinking of the girls in Kay’s high school class whose mothers had been in Baylor’s sororities, and how they had been giggling about life together next year. She thought of her own decision to stay in Texas for college, at the time she had wanted to follow her friends to a big school in a big city like Austin. She turned on her heel to head back to the kitchen and Mama’s camomile tea, muttering into the hallway in from to her. “Helsinki, huh?”

Her father’s voice followed her, his eyes narrowed at the smudges of lipstick Elvis had kissed into the back of Bess’ neck.

“Just think about, ja? You have so much potential, maus. I hate to see you loose sight of your goals.”

**************************************************************

Click here to read Chapter Six: Guided Missiles

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[donutsupremacy]

Victory

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Summary

"A new face had been spotted around the Fortress of Meropide, earning themselves a name by challenging others to a duel, and it was a surprise to see them winning fights left and right. They even challenged you! What a joke! And of course you were going to put them back in their place! After all, only a fool would challenge the duke's [S/O]."

Warnings/Spoilers

Written during 4.6

Gender neutral reader

Reader has a Pyro vision and wields a catalyst

Reader isn't the traveller

Traveller's existence is irrelevant/ not mentioned

Post-Archon Quest Fontaine

Physical fighting (Boxing with elements)

Reader is basically Pyro Wriothesley

Lots and lots of 3rd grader trash talking

Flirting, lots and lots of cringy flirting

Fluff and gotta sprinkle in some tiny bit of angst

TW: Scars (If you're uncomfortable with them)

A/N: Good to be alive again :D (Had an idea to write Albedo fic for his birthday, ended up getting swarmed with homework for the past few months, so after this I'll work on Albedo fic)

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Your romance begins here

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"Is this really worth it?"

"Oh, absolutely." You replied without a single hint of hesitation in your voice when Rousimoff, the Pankration Ring host, questioned.

You eyed the man standing on the opposite side of the ring, his biceps flexing and his Electro vision danging by his belt. This nobody challenged you, and you weren't a coward to put your reputation on the line. Especially with your recent win streak.

Rousimoff scoffed, patting your back, but the amusement and excitement in his eyes was obvious. There hasn't been a more exciting fight since the last time you entered the ring.

"Aren't you supposed to be on arrest or something?" Rousimoff questioned, a doubtful expression on his face.

You let out a 'pfft!', waving your hand dismissively. Sure, you were technically banned from any form of fighting because you may or may not have attacked an inmate who was spreading rumours about you, but they were asking for it! "Arrest, shm-errest. Wrio will understand! Besides... I've got nothing better to do." You retort.

"Just don't make a mess on the ring, alright? Last guy left a huge hole on the floor and the duke gave me an earful for it." Rousimoff sighs, rubbing his temples. It took a while to get that dent fixed, and you were pretty well known to make a mess without realizing.

"Hey, c'mon now." You nudged his shoulders. "You and everyone else get a good show, I get to kick someone to the curb. Fair trade, no?" You laughter sounds, attracting your opponents attention, whose cocky grin met yours.

"All ready?" The host asked, nodding his head to a group of your fellow inmates, some cheering on for you while the other half was rooting for your opponent to break your victory streak.

You stood up from your seat, rolling your shoulders and cracking your fist, your Pyro vision shining as you felt adrenaline pumping through your veins. Lately, you only had enough time to spar with some friends for about a few minutes, this was the first time you were about to have a full-on brawl with some random newbie after months of no action.

This was going to be fun.

. . . . . . . . .

The smell of sweet tea hung in the air as Wriothesley examined the mechanical gauntlets, flexing his fingers and moving his hand slightly to check on the movement limitations. A young man stood in front of his desk, anxious and slightly hunched over, waiting for his client's input.

"Great, seems like everything's back in order." Wriothesley spoke, nodding in approval as he donned his usual grin. "You have my gratitude."

The young man lets out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding in, slouching slightly to relax for a few seconds before standing up. With a polite bow, the young man quickly left the office, giving Wriothesley some privacy.

The Cryo vision wielder sat back down behind his desk, putting away the gauntlets as he picked up the cup of tea, blowing it to cool the liquid down slightly.

The Fortress of Meropide seemed to be more chaotic than usual as of late, especially when that new inmate got registered. Supposedly charged for multiple cases of assault, it was no surprise that he was the root of trouble, causing numerous disturbance to the other inmates.

As much as he'd like to interfere to keep the peace and balance within the fortress, it was supposedly a 'fair fight' since the inmate was given full consent, which meant that it was technically more of a duel.

Plus— Wriothesley needed some relaxation, after the whole ordeal with the prophecy and the catastrophe that nearly ended Fontaine. He was glad that now he had some time for himself.

"Some peace and quiet..." Wriothesley mumbled in relief, lifting the cup to his lips that quirked into a smile. It was time to relax.

"Your grace!"

The sound of the door slamming below his office startles Wriothesley, flinching as a few drops of tea spilled onto his desk. He groans quietly, putting the cup back down as the sound of footsteps climbed the stair case. "And... not a moment too soon."

"Your grace! It's about your [S/O]!" The guard exclaimed as soon as they reached the top of the stairs, one hand on the railing with the other on the hip and slightly hunched over, panting and out of breath from running.

His brows perked in surprise, did you get in trouble again? You were supposed to be on 'probation', too! You really didn't know when to rest, huh?

"What happened to them being supervised?" Wriothesley questioned, arms crossed and a disappointed frown on his face.

The guard gave a sheepish laugh. "...The guard looking after them left for lunch..."

Wriothesley sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Of course this would happen, you always get your way in the most ridiculous ways possible... Last time you were under 'strict supervision', you manage to sneak away from the guard in charge of looking after you by diving into the waters surrounding his office and disappearing to Archons knows where.

But then again... you make things interesting. Maybe that's why he loves you. Maybe a little too much, with how he was barely strict with you...

"Alright... what did they do this time?"

[Meanwhile...]

"That all you got?"

"Dodge this!"

You snort, swerving your head to the right, narrowly avoiding another hit. "How's that for a dodge, buddy?" You teased.

Your body feels a little numb, from the adrenaline or from enduring hits and the electricity lingering on your skin, you weren't sure. Neither did you really care. This was fun!

You lifted up your arm to block another punch, narrowly deflecting it— ember and sparks flying across the ring, grazing against the flesh of your face.

"All this commotion's going to arouse Wriothesley's attention..." Rousimoff mutters, the sound of your fellow inmates cheering loudly nearly filled the fortress. If it weren't your presence garnering attention, it would be the loud audience that attracted other passersby.

Small explosions created by Pyro and Electro continued to sound throughout the ring each time your fists met your opponent's blocks, your grunts mixed with his. The sounds were loud enough to mask Wriothesley's boots clicking against the floor, approaching the ring.

His brows furrowed and his lips tugged into a disapproving frown when he saw you, bruised and battered with sweat dripping from your forehead. How long has this 'duel' been going on? You look like you were about to collapse, yet, the adrenaline was making you tough it out.

He knew you were a tough fighter, he's seen how passionate you could get in a fight, even if it was just training— but you were still a human who had limits, limits you keep forgetting about just for the thrill of a fight.

"Alright, time to shut down the show, everyone." Wriothesley's voice was loud and firm, laced with his usual strong authority. Yet, his eyes were trained on you, slight concern hidden beneath his stoic demeanour.

Hearing Wriothesley's voice, the cheering quickly died down. You, too, heard your lover's voice, your eyes widening in surprise as you spotted the dark haired man standing by the Pankration ring. Uh oh, you're in deep trouble.

Seeing you distracted by Wriothesley's presence, your opponent took the opportunity, attempting to aim for the side of your face.

"Woah!" You managed to barely grab his wrist, just a hair's width away from contact. Electro meeting Pyro, you could feel your skin getting burned and shocked at the same time. You felt the adrenaline stop pumping, all of a sudden— you felt acutely aware of the stinging pain in your body.

In just a split second, your vision started to glow brightly, the fire surrounding your arms flaring up as the electricity rapidly surged from your opponent.

An explosion echoed throughout the fortress, causing the ground to rumble from the impact, you felt a large gust of wind shove you and everyone else nearby backwards. Your back met the wall behind you, skull slamming against the metal plates followed by a slight crack— and your vision cuts.

"...."

. . . . . . . . .

"[Name]... damn... reckless..."

"[Name]... come on..."

"[Name]!"

"Aaah!" You let out a yelp, flailing in your bed as you felt the aftershock from the explosion and the all too familiar feeling of a strong blast shoving you. Your head stings, a lot, and you had the urge to throw up.

"Woah! Relax!" Wriothesley exclaimed, hands gripping your shoulder, but not too firmly in fear of injuring you further. "That shockwave really did a number on you, huh?"

He gently laid you back down onto the soft mattress of your bed, you sighed, noticing your head and most of your body wrapped in bandages. Your skin littered with burn marks, some were minor and would heal easily, there were about a few major ones that might leave a scar or two accompanying your old ones.

"No kidding." Wriothesley sighed, voice filled with disappointment as he shook his head, worry hidden underneath. "What did I say about getting into fights?" The Cryo vision wielder spoke, now his voice laced with his usual authority, albeit a little softer only for you.

"Ohh... ohhhh, I'm... not in a good shape..." You managed to croak out, your arm resting on your chest while the other hung in the air slightly, you were so drained that you can barely raise your arms.

At least your heart's still beating, you're thankful that you've somehow managed to survive such a powerful Overload.

You barely wheezed out a laugh, giving your beloved a cheeky smile. "Wasn't a fight— It was a duel~" You quipped.

Wriothesley rolled his eyes, the corner of his lips curved into an amused grin. Of course you'd still try to crack a joke after narrowly dodging death.

"You're lucky we had Sigewinnie nearby at the time." The male scoffed, lightly poking your cheek.

"Give my thanks to that little angel." You hummed, relaxing in your bed, a satisfied smile on your face at lightening the mood and getting patched up by a reliable doctor.

Since your bed was pretty big (Benefits of being the duke's S/O!), you scooted aside slightly and adjusying your position, letting the duke sit on the bed. He was careful not to bump you with his hip, he knew that you were just trying to downplay the situation so you wouldn't get a scolding from him... which wouldn't work anyways.

"So... want me to have 10 guards look after you when you've recovered?" Wriothesley scoffed, carefully lifting your head and guiding you to rest on his lap. You let out a sigh of content, his fingers carressing your cheek, thumb tracing circles on the flesh.

A quiet and strained laugh leaves your slightly sore throat. "Wrio, c'mon... I just wanted to have fun..." You sighed. "...Sorry, alright?... I didn't mean to deviate from your orders like this, but... well, hard to resist. It's like how you can't go a single day without tea~"

"Don't bring my tea into this, [Name]." He chuckles, patting your head. "Then, I'll just have to be the one keeping an eye on you from now on."

Huffing, you gave the male a pout. "It wasn't that bad." You tried to protest, the idea of being under supervision 24/7 was already annoying enough, but your lover being the one to look after you isn't as fun as others may think— especially when he gets overprotective without realizing. You love him, yes... it's just sometimes, it seems like he forgets that you still have capabilities.

"Dove, you're covered in bandages and bedridden... I don't want this to happen again." Wriothesley sighs, rubbing his temples. His brow furrowed, it was easy to pick up the clear disdain in your voice, knowing you still wanted some semblance of freedom and have the ability to stay independent.

He leans down towards you, lips grazing on your forehead. "...I promise I won't coddle you so much this time... just see this as... us hanging out— but much more frequently where I can keep an eye on you and make sure you don't end up in the infirmary again, alright?"

You chuckled, muscles loosening at the gentle kiss... Okay, maybe getting coddled once in a while wasn't so bad.

"...Same thing~" You chirped, tilting your head slightly and connecting his lips with yours. "But okie doki, deal."

"Deal." Wriothesley hums as he pulled his lips away, giving you an affectionate grin. One hand continues to carress your cheek, the other brushing against the fresh bandages on your arm.

Your skin tingles from the warmth of his fingertips through the bandage, arms twitching slightly as you attempted to lift them.

Though, you clearly still needed to rest a little longer before you can fully move your body again. For now... you'll just lay here, resting on Wriothesley's lap.

And to boast about how you definitely won that duel against that rambunctious inmate. Victory is yours~

[dontfeeltoohot]

While I was writing this, I realized if we’re going off of ‘Barbie lore’ (which sounds so weird) there is a book where someone gets sick, so technically this fic wouldn’t be true. But. I’m going off of what’s been said in the movie, and ignoring the books since they’re portrayed as regular humans on earth there. 

So have some clueless, helpless Ken. He's different than most characters I've written for, so hopefully I did him justice. Enjoy.

Warnings: slight mess

XXX

He brings a lot home with him to Barbie Land from earth. Knowledge of patriarchy and horses, of how men are treated by women. Ken also, unknowingly, brings germs to their perfect land that hasn’t experienced them before. He’s been around thousands of new people- hundreds during his brief time trying to convince the doctors to let him perform an appendectomy in a hospital. Sure, Barbie Land is pretty perfect, but germs? That’s new. It’s not as if they don’t all know what germs are, but when someone gets sick, it’s a quick, almost instantaneous fix. As it seems, human germs are not like the germs here. 

When the blonde wakes up in his small, ordinary house; nothing like Barbie’s, he feels…bad? Not the bad he feels when Barbie doesn’t talk to him, and not the kind of bad like when Ken (two) had beaten him in the beach-off. No, he feels bad like his throat hurts and he’s still tired even after sleeping. He can’t breathe through his nose, and oh god, is he dying? He doesn’t want to die! With his thoughts racing, he scrambles out of bed, ready to go find Barbie to ask what’s happening to him, but an intense head rush washes over him and his limbs feel weirdly weak. 

“Okay, you can do this, just-“ he breaks off, nose scrunching up involuntarily. 

An intense tickle is winding its way through his stuffed sinuses, making his hand go to his nose, rubbing it with his palm, trying to make it go away. It’s no use, and by the time it’s reached his nose, the man is standing frozen with his eyes fluttering, nostrils flaring. 

“hhh-EHtschhuh!” He shakes his head much like a dog, takes a step forward and then- “heHHTSCHuh! SNF!” 

The sniffle is wet and thick, and it makes him cough as the mess is met with already blocked sinuses. Letting out a tired sigh, Ken rubs his face and tries to calm himself down. Is he malfunctioning? Is he going to have to go back to earth? Heart rate picking back up, he finds a soft white shirt and yanks it on, nose runny and itchy and feeling entirely too sensitive. He rubs a knuckle into the side of it as he brushes his hair, still wanting to look good for the woman he’s about to set off for. They are boyfriend-girlfriend after all. 

Or, they were. Her explanation of him needing to figure out who he was wasn’t exactly his favorite, and he’s hoping she’s forgotten about it by now. He needs her. She’s Barbie, and he’s Ken. There is no just Ken. He’s bound to her, right? Swallowing down that fear and wincing when the action hurts, he shivers slightly and picks up his plain blue sweatshirt, zipping it up on his way down and out of the house. 

Walking down the perfectly straight sidewalk, Ken waves half heartedly at the people who greet him, too tired to be as enthusiastic as he usually is. It must be noticeable enough though, because Veterinarian Barbie frowns as she makes her way down the same sidewalk. 

“Hey Ken! Are you okay? You look..” she bites her lip and he knows she’s trying not to say something rude. 

“I’m fine,” he assures, waving it off, no way he’s letting anyone know he’s malfunctioning. “I gotta go see Barbie, but I’ll catch you later.” 

He hears himself as he talks, cringing at how different his voice is, like he’s pinching his nose shut. Forcing himself to move quickly, he finds the bright pink dream house and knocks on the already half opened wall, not wanting to intrude. (He wishes he could intrude, wishes he could go in and hold her close, maybe even give her a kiss). 

“Oh, hey Ken!” 

The sweet, beautiful voice rings out and he’s snapped out of his thoughts. 

“Barbie! Hey, I need to talk to you…inside.” 

“Oh, uh,” she frowns. “Okay, come on-“ 

Ken pushes past her and rubs at his nose, already feeling another tickle. He tries to concentrate on the woman in front of him, scrunching his nose up in hopes to hold off what he knows is going to happen. 

“How did you know you were malfunctioning?” 

The words come out quick and his voice quivers slightly. The long haired blonde in front of him takes a small step forward, worry passing over her features. 

“I, I could just feel it. I felt different. Are you okay? What’s going on, do you think you’re malfunctioning?” 

As Ken goes to explain what’s been happening, the tickle makes him stop and he tilts his head back slightly, the feeling overwhelming. 

“huhIKSHHHuh! SNGF! Ohh…ehUITSCHH’uhew! That felt g-good-snfSNF!” 

The man barely notices Barbie jump at the uncovered noise, he barely even turns away from her, moving just enough to mist the air to his left instead of directly onto her. 

“This keeps happening! And I hurt? I think I’m dying Barbie, I feel really bad. My throat? It hurts, and I feel like I need to sleep even though I just slept. I can’t breathe either,” he sniffles for effect, nostrils twitching as mess that’s been clinging to them gets pulled back up. “There’s this feel-SNF! Feeling that..hh-! that’s in my head..like someone’s tickling it? I d-dohn’t..HuhEXTSHhuh! The tickle keeps m-making me..do..thiiihh-KTSCH’uhEW! this..” 

By the end of his explanation he’s exhausted, his nose is running everywhere, his throat’s burning, and he only half means to stumble into Barbie, resting his forehead against her shoulder. 

“I don’t want to die, Barbie.” 

She wraps an arm around him and he leans a little more against her. He won’t lie and say he doesn’t play up when he’s injured sometimes, but this is a whole different ball game. He really feels bad, and he doesn’t know what to do, and god he wants to lay down. Pulling back, he notices a small wet spot from where his nose had been pressed into her pretty dress. Oops. 

“You’re not going to die Ken, okay? Not while I’m here.” She squeezes his own shoulder and he feels electrified. “Now, you probably should sit down or-“ 

“Can I lay on your bed?” His mind flashes back to when he was crying on it not even two weeks ago. 

“Of course.” She says it with no hesitation, and if he had more energy he’d be grinning and teasing her. 

Sniffling as he’s led to her large, velvet pink seashell-backed bed, Ken coughs and wipes his nose with his shirt sleeve, frowning at the mess that’s put there. Gross. 

“Here, lay down and stay there. I should see if Doctor Barbie knows what to do-“ 

“No! I don’t want her to know I’m malfunctioning!” Another sniffle makes Ken groan and huff. 

“If you are malfunctioning, you’re not going to get better. You don’t want to be like this forever do you?” 

“No way, but can’t you just stay for a little bit? I might be dying, the least you can do is lay next to me. We can tahhlk,” he rubs his nose against his palm, nostrils twitching. “Please?” 

“Fine, but only for a little while. And then I’m finding Barbie and we’ll figure this out. You look bad, Ken.” 

The words sting, but he ignores them only half on purpose. The other half of him is too concentrated on the itchy feeling that’s back in his head again. It feels so good to get it out, so he waits, slack jawed with shut eyes as the feeling crests. 

“UHKTSCHHuh! Snfsnf! God, it juhhst- Barbie…” his defined nostril twitch into almost perfectly round circles, unused to the sensitivity. “ehhuISTCHuh! SNGFF!” 

He mists the air as he gets into the woman’s bed, mess running down his cupids bow and almost onto his lip, sniffles not doing much to help. His eyes flutter open when something moves against his face- Barbie has a washcloth pressed against his nose, wiping away any mess that’s been produced. 

“Thank you Barbie,” Ken’s surprised but grateful. “That’s really nice of you.” 

“It was kind of gross, and it seemed like you needed help,” she laughs quietly, making him go red. 

“I really think I should go find doctor Barbie.”

“Just a few minutes, okay? Then you can go find her.” 

TBC?