#homeless veteran x reader

[moodymisty]

requests are open???????? oh??????? okay okay hear me out, I know this might seem weird but I just love how you write for our clones and since I know you love him as much as I do..... what about "finding out they have a momento of you somewhere on them they bring everywhere" + Tai? 👉🏻👈🏻

Author's note: -yanks a barbie-like doll version of Tai from your hands- He's mine to play with now >:3 and I shall make his life perfect and full of fluff as he deserves. I can't be mean to him on my first time writing him xD

Also Wrecker, since you mentioned him in another message. His is a small bonus featured at the bottom ;3

Relationships: Tai(homeless clone veteran from Kenobi to anyone unawares)/Gn!Reader, Wrecker/Gn!Reader

Warnings: None

Your friends had always insisted you had a bleeding heart. But you never really got why it was always considered something you say about someone to insult them.

You care for other people; Is that so bad?

Well, here maybe. There's no shortage of individuals looking to take advantage of that. But you're careful, it's not like you would've gotten far if you hadn't been. But sometimes you can't help it. You'd lost count of how many times you'd come out to give him some food, as he sat camped out close by the entrance to your work.

"I," He hadn't heard you at first, your voice filtered into the crowd and was carried away by it. You spoke again, louder; With more confidence, you had thought.

"I brought you another."

When you'd finally caught his attention he turned to you, the brightness of his eyes contrasting against the still somewhat disheveled nature of his hair and beard. He'd trimmed some of it not too long ago, but in the situation he was in, it was difficult to find the proper tools to do so.

You'd handed him one of the two mealboxes in your hand- it's still warm on the bottom as your fingers brush over his gloved ones. He had hesitated, but after the last few times where you had, and quite aggressively insisted, he take the food, this time he just takes it.

"You're beginning to make a habit of this," His thumb fiddled with the tab to pull up the lid and take a peek at what was inside. "You know you don't have to."

He makes good company, and you don't hesitate to say as such.

"There's some storage crates behind the store; Do you maybe want to eat together?"

You were never able to stop the expectant look on your face, maybe hoping to puppy dog eyes him into joining you. It had seemed to work, but who knows if it was the pleading tone of just the offer of some company.

He went to haul himself to his feet, so you reached out a hand. He didn't exactly shove it away, but he didn't take it; Standing fully and giving you a small smile. It still surprises you sometimes how tall he is at full height, especially with those thick plastoid boots adding another chunk of height.

"I'm not that old." Putting the hand back on your mealbox, it had been hard not to teasingly roll your eyes.

"You said it, not me."

To think, that felt like so long ago.

It really hadn't been, but time passes so wonderfully slow sometimes when you're around him. And how lucky you'd ended up, now getting to say 'good morning', instead of 'good night'.

The blankets still cover your legs, looking to the side as you watch him dump out his ratty old bag all over his side of the bed. You can tell he still doesn't think he should be here, but you were quick to give him his own little spaces of his. He deserves it, and you want him here.

Various little things come tumbling out out his worn rucksack; Some credits, a roll of bandages, a piece of candy and an empty blaster mag, even.

He's such an early riser- you're not even out of your nightclothes and he's up and moving. Already gave you a kiss and made a cup of caf.

You'd bought Tai a new satchel when you noticed the rips and holes in his current one, that were making it nearly unable to fulfill it's purpose as a bag. The one you'd bought wasn't anything fancy, but part of you had been concerned about implying he replace the old one and finding out it had sentimental value. Thankfully it didn't seem to, and now he's eager to make use of your gift.

Shaking it once more a piece of foil also comes tumbling out with his various doodads, and given it looks looks like nothing else he owns, you decide to curiously reach for it. He doesn't vocalize that you shouldn't touch it, but you still hesitate just a moment to make sure you aren't snooping.

He looks at you and then the foil in your hands, before giving a soft smile that shifts his grey speckled stubble.

"Open it."

Carefully the crumpled metal makes noise as you unfold the edges, before revealing what's inside on your lap.

A flower is pressed and dried, wrapped up in the foil. The stem is cracked from being folded to fit in such a small pack, but it's still secured with the actual petals.

"Is this," You question, even though you think you know where this is from. Not too many plants have the chance to grow and blossom in this sort of smoggy, dirty city.

It must've been blown down from a rooftop garden not too long before you'd both walked by, it late into the night and both your bellies full from some hot, cheap food. The flower had been a bright blue just like the fading paint on his armor, and picking up off the ground you managed to save it from getting stepped on- holding it up to his chestplate. Commenting on the color match had made him smile, before he stuck it in the hair right above your ear.

You don't remember ever taking it out, so it must've fallen sometime during the night and he'd snatched it back up. There had been so much happening; The smell of food and booze, Imperial troopers chasing a mugger, Tai had an arm around you the entire time, and it had tightened with they came a bit too close. That warm feeling had made your stomach turn in knots.

"Why'd you keep it?" You're curious, gently rubbing one of the petals between your thumb and index finger. It's so soft, even the slightest touch and you're nervous you'll ruin it.

He must've had this safely in his satchel for weeks now, and you'd never even known.

"Thought that even if you didn't stick around, I'd still remember having fun that night." He didn't get many of those sorts of days, not after everything that's happened. So much of his life has just been survive to the next day; Next hour, next minute.

"You know," Gently folding the flower back up in it's foil you still hold it in your hand, glancing towards him. "I was already in love with you when you gave me this."

There still exists a small degree of self doubt that exists in him; That he's not the right man for you. Though after vehemently denying it and insisting he stay when he tried to beat himself into leaving your home, you do everything in your power to make sure he has no reason to think those things.

Your confession made him falter for a moment, as you look at him with those sweet, irresistible eyes.

Putting his knee on the bed he moves closer to you, eyebrows raised as his slightly hooded eyes stare you down. He's still a little bit sleepy since the caf hasn't quite kicked in, and neither of you have eaten yet. He's been wanting to make it, he says to make up for all those meals you gave him.

"Did it make you love me more?" You put the flower down safely out of the way, so it isn't as risk of getting crushed when you lean forward and meet him at the middle; Nose just brushing against his. You want to kiss him so fucking bad, feeling his beard against your skin when you mutter your answer.

"There's no words to describe how much it did."

✦ Bonus! Some Wrecker goodness ✦

Wrecker always runs so hot; On a cold planet like this, it's particularly nice.

He makes this sort of heat bubble, that radiates around him like the burning sun of a solar system. Warming up your thighs with the arm leaning across them, he does so as well with your back and side as he uses his other arm to pull you against his chest. Sitting sideways in his lap is nice, especially as you watch the stars.

This is the sort of thing normally makes you quite sleepy- though it doesn't help that Wrecker insists on being the most comfortable sleeping spot. At least this time it won't be terrible if you end up falling asleep, because at least he'll be here to wake you back up. Or keep an eye on everything for you.

He occasionally has to check the scanners, leaning forward to do so when he feels enough time has passed without taking a glance. The continuously snow obscures vision outside the viewports of The Marauder to a degree, but it's not bad enough that you can't see the sky. It is however, bad enough that you have to keep an eye on the scanners to check if anything is getting close, lest you end up noticing only when something's right on top of you.

Not that anyone or thing, other than maybe what little wildlife can survive out here anyways would; It's just Hunter being cautious.

When Wrecker tightens his grip on your thighs a bit an leans forward to check, you notice something underneath the armor of his wrist, and gently reach to grasp his arm. Wrecker doesn't resist and lets you have his arm but he is a little confused, until you expose the thin chain that's wrapped around his body glove but underneath his gauntlet.

"I didn't know you kept this."

You remember way back when, on your first what you would call an 'official date', your necklace had snapped. It wasn't one that had any sort of extreme sentimental value, but you had really liked it; Though when Wrecker had picked it up off the ground to see multiple links were ruined, you elected to trash it.

Apparently Wrecker hadn't done that, and had instead used the long chain and tied it around his wrist with a haphazard double knot, the small little gold pendant long since having been lost.

"I, uh," Wrecker takes his arm away from your hands, and rubs the portion of his neck just below his ear. The chain is easily hidden underneath the plates of his armor, which more than explains why you'd never spotted it up until right now.

"It reminded me of that first date." He looks at you oddly for a moment, his brown eyes trying to read your expression. "It isn't weird, is it?" You shake your head.

"No, not at all. Maybe I can use some of Tech's tools so we can fix it? Then it won't fall off."

He noticeably perks up at that. His hand goes right back to cupping the side of your thigh, his gloved palm covering a good portion of it.

"Yeah, I really don't wanna loose it after this long."

Gods, Wrecker is too sweet for you.

"Well now you got to give me something of yours, so we can match. Right?" He almost instantly starts wracking his brain for ideas, his fingers tapping against your thigh.

"I got an idea," Your eyebrows raise, waiting. "But it's a surprise."

Of course it is.

He laughs as you drop your shoulders, having been denied the instant satisfaction of knowing what memento he's going to give you.

"Awww Wrecker come on, please? Tell me?" Your arms raise to wrap around his neck, attempting to pull him for a kiss, but his torso is too tall for you to get anywhere in this position. He pinches the side of your thigh, making you squeal just a bit.

"I'll tell you later. Promise."

[dvchvnde]

excerpt; hitchhiker au | Simon Riley x Reader gore. graphic descriptions of decomposition. implied noncon.

“You’re not real,” she whimpers, words a rough scrape out of her raw, torn throat. “You can't be real.”

He doesn't answer tonight. Silent in his appraisal, his hatred; the bloodlust rolls off of him in waves, a suffocating deluge that tangles in her chest. Heart pulsing at the base of her throat, clogging her airways. She can't breathe. Can't move. Can only watch as the man cocks his head slowly to the side in a mutated parody of consideration. Confusion. Taking her in as he stands in her doorway, massive body filling the frame in an outline of black, making him more shadow than man. An apparition that haunts her at devil's hour. Always.

The moon's glow casts a line through the open window. A pale meridian between them. 

Childishly, she thinks of hiding under her blanket. Bad things can't touch you under the covers. Curling into a ball with her eyes squeezed shut, fingers plugging her ears. Wishing for her mother. Howling for her dad. Waiting until morning when the thing haunting her finally leaves.

But he doesn't. Not tonight. 

And she knows if she tries to hide, he'll just crawl into the bed next to her—

“Fix your bumper yet?” He asks, measured in his mockery. The weight of his words makes her stomach churn. Nausea a cold, familiar comfort that tethers itself to her ribcage. “Better get that fixed before someone comes askin’ questions, pet. Clean the blood off it, too. Caused quite the nasty spill.”

His directive makes her want to curl into a ball. “I–I didn't mean to, I didn't—”

“What'd you tell everyone? Hit a deer? Left ‘im in the bushes to die? And now he's got maggots crawlin’ all around ‘is ‘ead. Eatin’ his brains clean outta ‘is skull—”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up—you’re not real! You're not real—”

The man—Simon Riley, her mind supplies bitterly, brokenly; tinged full of regret and sorrow and hatred—lashes out in an instant, moves like water, like shadows on the wall, the too bright flicker of a moving car, until he's in her face, looming over her. A massive, unclimbable wall. And she hates it. Hates when he's this close to her. Close enough to smell the stench of rotten blood that dries on his chest, the side of his head. A brown stain that sinks into the too-large frame of his chest. 

He smells of death. Sickening. Tainted with a noisome sweetness that glues in her nostrils, leaks down her throat. She can taste him there, right on her tongue. Him. Simon Riley. 

Missing, the newspapers say. But only she knows the truth. Stowed away in a facsimile of a grave by the swamps, left to rot. Here, in her bedroom. Waiting for her whenever she tries for a modicum of sleep. A veteran. A drifter. Homeless, they write, and he barked out an ugly laugh as he read over your shoulder, but said nothing else as you scrolled. Tense. Shivering in your seat, waiting for the day the police show up and arrest you. You did a terrible thing. A horrible thing. Pay for what you've done—

His hand reaches out, fingers wrapping around the delicate arch of her throat. The width spans the entirety of it until the bone china, the vulnerable slope, is clenched tight in his slick, slippery palm. Moss, she knows; it grows over his hands and feet now. The earth reclaiming the body she threw into the swamp—

“Not real?” He mocks, wrenching her closer by her throat. Pulse thudding like the wings of a hummingbird against his thumb. “Oh, pet. M’very real—”

He leans in, too, until his horrid face is lit by the sliver of pale blue moonlight. Scraps of tissue slough off of his head, skin purpling beneath the balaclava that peels off in patches. Animals, he'd told her idly, like talking about his body being eaten away by creatures was piecemeal. The jaundiced bone of his cheek pokes out from raspberry skin. It shifts when he speaks, and draws her eye to the devastation of his mouth. Jawbone visible; muscle blackened, clinging by a strip of thin tissue to his lower mandible. His teeth gleam in the light. Yellow and crooked. The rest of his face is covered under the blood soaked fabric of his mask. A small mercy, she thinks.

But the worst is his eyes. 

Once black, midnight grey, is now filmed over. Milky. And the other—

Something moves in the cherryred chasm. A long, thin black line slinks out of the gaping hole. Another. Another. From the rotten socket, a large spider emerges, crawling over the craggy pieces of his broken nose, making his decomposing body her home. 

She whimpers as the bile surges up, swallowing it down when the blue skin of his mouth peel back in a horrifying grin—

Something white falls from the corner of his eye, rolling down the slick, damp skin of his oily face in a mockery of a teardrop, the image glueing to the bone deep remorse that coils like a noose around her neck. Tighter, tighter. 

His tongue lulls out. Cold, slimy, when it flickers over the trembling ridge of her jaw. Fingers digging into her skin, stealing the warmth from her flesh. The air from her lungs. 

He'll have her like this, she knows. Always does when he gets in these moods—the kind that makes him touch her more, sink boney fingers beneath the hem of her pants, and cooing in her ear about how much he wants to eat her alive. Buzzing with some strange, electric energy. She can't run. Can't scream. 

Going to the police isn't an option when she buried a body under loose rocks and sticks. Hit and run. Vehicular manslaughter. Life over in a blink—

No. No—

She just has to wait, she thinks, her eyes slipping shut as his rancid breath curdled over the tears on her cheeks. Wait until his body rots all the way. 

Until he's nothing but bones—

Only then will this ghost finally leave her alone. 

[gh0stsp1d3r]

hiiiii

first i would just like to say i looveee your writing its so good

secondly, i was wondering if i could request a kraven x fem reader smut where they’re on a mission together and they end up getting a hotel room but surprise surprise there’s only on bed so they end up having to share it but while they’re getting ready for bed and she’s undressing to change he sees her bare back when shes not noticing and then he starts acting different when they get in bed and she asks why and he kisses her and then they ;) also could they already have a kind of flirty relationship but also kinda get annoyed with each other pretty easily?

anyways i know its a lot but its been stuck in my head all day and i have no writing skills AT ALLLLL

thank youuuuuuu ❤️❤️❤️

I LOVE THE ONE BED TROPE AND I LOVE THIS REQUESY ANON!! This was a bit long 😭 BUT THANK YOU!!

Shower thoughts

Smut, MDNI, masturbation (m), oral (f), p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl people), cum eating, fingering (; porn w plot

You groaned as you fell onto the hard concrete, you stared at Sergei and someone else fighting, finally he had (violently) killed the man, he bled out in the open, no one to help him.

“You alright?” He said, looking back at you, blood on his hands and face, slightly staining his shirt. He reached out a hand for you to grab.

You nodded and grabbed his hand, he helped you up.

“Probably gonna hurt in the morning. I’ll be fine.”You said, sighing and looking around in the open field.

“We just gonna leave him out in the open.”

“Nah.” He took a minute or two to use his powers, and suddenly a tiger came roaring from out of nowhere, and it bit the man’s head off.

“Oh, Okay.”

“Alright. Well, we should probably go to a hotel or something. I’m exhausted, I’m sure you are too, and it’s like.. 10 pm already.”

“I am.” You laughed quietly, getting into the car and he drove off.

He stopped at the closest one, it was a small motel, but it would do fine for a night.

“You gonna take a shower?” He asked you, you nodded. You both walked up to the front office.

“I’ll take one after you, or with you.” He said, eyebrows raised.

“Shut up.” You laughed, pushing his shoulder.

He went up to the desk, the woman behind it not paying attention too much.

“Hey.” He said, she turned around.

“Hey. What’s up?” She asked, eating ramen noodles and slurping them.

“Can we get a room? Just for one night.”

She looked at the both of you, still eating. You both awkwardly just stared and waited.

“Sure.” She said, taking the key and handing it you. “That’ll be 120$ please.” she said with a smile.

“120…” you sighed, taking out your wallet when Sergei stopped you, taking out his instead and paying the lady.

“Have a good night.” She said, and you both quickly left.

“You didn’t have to.” You said, as you both walked.

He shrugged “I don’t mind.”

Once he finally found the number, he opened the door to one bed. He turned on the light to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Nope. One bed.

“Damn. Was there really no other room?” You sighed, putting down your stuff.

Sergei sighed, and put his stuff down as well.

“Well, I’m gonna go take a shower.” You said, quickly going into the bathroom.

As the shower ran, so did he thoughts. He’s often thought about you, with his cock in his hand or just randomly sometimes.

He was thinking about how your body would look under the wet shower, how you would look under him. He shifted and groaned quietly, looking at the bathroom and back to the TV.

There wasn’t much that was sexy about an old veteran feeding homeless people on the news.

So he waited, and you soon shut off the shower. Sergei watched you like a hawk as you made your way to your bag, rummaging through it.

The motel towel didn’t hide much, it was small and thin, cheap.

“Would you stop staring at me?” You asked, still going through the bag.

“I’m not staring, what do you mean?” He said, looking the other way when you looked back. You finally found some clothes and Sergei looked back. He swore this was some sort of his sick fantasies.

He saw your back, ass only covered by a small black pair of underwear. He stared again, and he just grew impossibly harder every second.

You slipped a t-shirt over your head, and a pair of pajama pants.

“I’m gonna go take a shower.” He mumbled, so he went into the bathroom.

He quickly turned on the water and locked the door, he quickly took off his pants and boxers that he had, freeing his very hard and red cock.

He hopped in the shower, and slowly started to stroke it, imagining it was your hand instead of his, imagining you underneath him in the shower.

Then his thoughts ran back to how you almost exposed yourself fully naked in front of him, not knowing how much it turned him on.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, throwing his head back. It didn’t take long for him to finish, and quickly wash his body.

He went out to change and saw you scrolling on your phone, you were clueless to what just happened. He quickly changed, and got in the bed.

“So.. tomorrow…” you started, turning off your phone and turning to your side to look at him.

“Uh.. what about tomorrow?” He looked at you, also turning to his side.

You furrowed your eyebrows “We still have that one mission. You know-“

“Oh. Right, right, I forgot for a second.”

You laughed quietly and he smiled.

You were talking again, about random things, and he just nodded and said “uh huh.” “Wow.” And “cool”

You furrowed your eyebrows when you realized, and looked at him in confusion. You stopped talking and he looked back at you.

“Is something wrong?” You asked him finally.

“No.”

“Did I.. do something?”

“No…” well, I’m glad you asked, you changed in front of me and I got a hard on.

“Oh. Well then why are you so…”

“I’m just tired. Sorry.” He said, and he saw how you were kinda hurt. You nodded and turned the other way, he couldn’t go to sleep.

“Actually..” he sighed after a while, you turned back to him.

“Can I be honest?” You both looked at each other now.

You nodded, and he didn’t say anything else, but he did lean close to you, you were shocked when he kissed you, eyes wide for a second, before you kissed him back.

“I saw your body, when you were changing, fuck, I’m sorry but-“

“You were watching me.. change?” You asked, teasing him.

“No… yes..?”

You laughed quietly and shook your head.

“That’s cute. But if you wanted to, you coulda asked.” You gave him another kiss, this one wasn’t so loving and slow as the other one.

His tongue explored your mouth, he kissed you hungrily and he slowly moved around, he disconnected his lips for a second to get on top of you.

“Do you wanna do this?” He asked, making sure. You nodded eagerly, with a smile on your face.

His hands explored your body, he pulled up your shirt first, revealing your tits.

Something he’d always fantasized about.

He smiled and littered small kisses all along your body, you just stared at him. Slowly he took off your pants, putting them on the floor next to your shirt.

He slowly took off your underwear after, he looked up at you as his fingers trailed down to your clit, running circles. You bit your lip and he stopped, you whined at the loss.

“I wanna hear you. Okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded and released your lip, and he slowly put his fingers back on your clit, and you let out a moan, your back arching off the bed slightly as he worked his fingers.

And he was good with his fingers.

That’s when he did something you didn’t expect, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, you gasped and made noises that were like music to his ears.

Your hands went flying to his hair, tugging and pulling on it as he ate you out, you tasted as wonderful as he had imagined.

“Sergei- Im gonna-“ you mumbled.

“Please do.” He said, disconnecting his tongue for a second, with a small smile. He then dived back in and soon you were cumming on his tongue.

You caught your breath while he took his sweatpants and boxers off, his cock was painfully hard.

He stroked it a couple times, and you impatiently whined.

“Sergei!”

“Sorry, love.” He said, giving you a small kiss on the cheek and aligning his cock with your entrance.

He groaned while you moaned, he stayed still for a minute and he looked at your reaction to see if he could move.

Your eyes screwed shut, it hurting at first. Then you nodded, and he started to move slowly, he smiled and slowly thrusted.

“Sergei- please.” You said.

“Use your words, please what?”

“Go faster!” You whined again, making him smile as he did just that.

His thrusts that were once slow and loving, turned fast and relentless, his stamina animalistic almost.

“Yeah- shit- fuck, you’re so tight.” He mumbled, the sounds of skin slapping filling the room. The cheap bed banging against the wall next door.

He smiled at your reaction to his words, and you felt the coil forming in your stomach.

“Mmm- Sergei..” you moaned out, he groaned.

“You’re so hot, you know that? I’ve dreamed of this forever.” He growled out.

“I’m gonna cum-“ you mumbled, and he nodded.

“Let’s cum together, okay?” He suggested, you nodded and that’s exactly what you both did.

You both bottomed out, and he took his cock out of your pussy, making you cry out. He went back up to you and kissed you.

“Sorry, but if we don’t stop, we aren’t gonna be able to.” He said with a smirk, you rolled your eyes.

“Whatever. Just cuddle me.” You mumbled, as he put back on his boxers only, and he helped you put back on your clothes.

“Yes ma’am.” He mumbled, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your neck.

[writersundersiege]

Rooster and his Songbird

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader Seresin

Summary: Bradley is at the Hard Deck with the rest of the Dagger Squad like every Friday night, but Penny’s announcement for a new special event happening at the end of the month was have a local artist perform and their favorite drinks will be the special menu of the night all proceeds go back to help Homeless Veterans. The group Penny hires is excellent, but what catches Bradley’s attention is a gorgeous girl he’s never seen before. What will he do when he discovers it’s no one other than Jake “Hangman” Seresin's little sister? Will Bradley take the leap of faith? Is Jake going to let his only little sister anywhere near Rooster?

The music was loud as Bradley walked into the Hard Deck; it’s always busy, but tonight seems louder and more crowded, and Bradley looking around can’t seem figure out why. He’s making his way to a back table where the Daggers usually congregate when he spots Phoenix with his favorite kind of beer tipped toward him, signaling him to hurry his ass up over there.

Once he arrives and grabs his drink, he sits and takes note everyone who was usually on a Friday night out is here, minus Coyote and Hangman, who are sitting right next to the piano area for some reason. As he turns to Phoenix and Bob, who are talking about some movie Bob watched on Netflix, Penny’s voice rings true over the crowd, quieting them as much as she can.

“Good evening; thank you for joining us for the first Music Makes Miracles first event. All tonight's proceeds, besides the girls' tip jar, will be donated to homeless veterans. Also, just so that everyone knows, our special tonight is a Rum and Coke courtesy of the lovely girl, who I will let introduce herself, but as the rest of the night goes, thank you once for coming out again. Enjoy.”

As Penny hops down from the small black box stage, three girls hop up onto the stage; all of a sudden, it’s like the world stops all around Bradley. You’re laughing as you throw the strap of a regular Gibson guitar over your shoulder, but as he looks closer, he sees details of hummingbirds on it. You were smiling from ear to ear. It looked like there was an ethereal glow behind you as you tapped the mic a few times to make sure it was not too loud.

“Hey everyone, we’re so excited to perform; tips are appreciated but are not expected, but what is expected is to have fun with us!” here, the band cheers, which makes the crowd of Navy recruits, their loved ones, and few scattered civilians clap and whistle along to get the energy going.

Bob whistles while Phoenix shakes Bradley’s shoulder, yelling, “hell yeah, girl.” Bradley chuckles, cheeks turning pink, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “That’s the spirit tonight; we’ll start with Brandy by Looking Glass. I’m sure you all know it; feel free to sing along!”

Then you pull a little silver pitch pipe out of the pocket of your white sundress and put it to your lips, lightly giving the two girls standing behind you their pitches. You smile at the guy at the piano and twist the microphone to his lips so he can play and sing.

You walk back to the girls, and the music starts; you flip a switch with your foot to make your guitar sound electronic, and the man’s voice sounds out; he’s got a great tone of voice, but all Bradley’s eyes are you, and how you are keeping the beat perfectly singing back up with the girls, it’s like almost he can hear your voice all alone.

As they got to the bridge of the song, all the men and women in the bar alike were singing and laughing, drinking. Some of the older couples were even up dancing.

At the song's end, you were laughing with pure bliss on your face, eyes creased, cheeks peaked, and Bradley swallows hard, gripping himself to his chair to keep himself from standing and sweeping you off that stage and kissing you in front of all these people. What is wrong with him? He doesn’t even know your name, but he can’t stop this gravitational pull you seem to have on him.

You walk back to the man on the piano, grab the microphone, and twist it around as you kiss his cheek lightly. He smiles up at you. “Everyone give a huge round of applause for Noah; isn’t he just dreamy ladies,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. “Anyways, My name is (F/N), and the lovely ladies behind me are-“As she steps to the side, the girls wave, and the one with really curly black hair waves, “I’m Cora, everyone,” and the other girl with extremely long golden looking hair smiles big waving “hey y’all I’m Savannah” you step back in center stage, “And we’re just a traveling band of misfits who love a little music and love making people remember their love for music so please do enjoy we’ll be playing throughout the night we also take requests so feel free to submit them over here” she points to a little box with some paper and pen next to an empty glass jar that was adorably painted with pink and white flowers and said tips with a bit of smiley face.

Phoenix again tries to pull Bradley from his trance by smacking him upside the back of the head. “What’s with you tonight? You seem like you are in outer space.” he straightens back, turning fully to Phoenix and Bob, and points back in your direction. “the singer, she’s just kinda amazing, isn’t she?” Phoenix's eyes go as big as Saturn's moons until she starts cackling while Bob cowers back like he’s scared a tidal wave will take him out.

Bradley starts to get annoyed, clearing his throat and raising his eyebrow for explanations from either of his friends. “That-“Phoenix starts catching her breath. “That little songbird you are so infatuated with is Jake’s “Bagman” Seresin's sweet little sister (F/N) Seresin.”

Bradley’s eyes got wide, and he turned where Coyote and Hangman sat, head on a swivel, glaring any men who started approaching the stage and then sliding different dollar amounts into the tips for the case of scaring off a potential target was coming to be just so generous to you girls.

Bradley shakes his head almost in defeat until an idea comes to mind. He says, “I'll be back,” to Phoenix, which has her saying back to him. “ good luck, don’t get killed, “and he gets up anyway, heading straight to the piano. Jake tracks his movements the whole way, but so do you. The entire night you've been watching Bradley's awe-struck face, you thought he was charming but a bit of a big bumbling mess, so to say, but in an adorable way.

Bradley's movement is steady as he pats Noah's back, leans down, and whispers, which causes the boy at the piano to smile from ear to ear. Noah moves over, and Bradley sits and, just like many times before, starts to bang out the notes on the keys below, singing out loud right toward you and sings out.

“You shake my nerves, and you rattle my brain

Too much love drives a man insane

You broke my will

But what a thrill

Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!”

As Phoenix and Bob realize his grand plan, they are in fits of laughter as Coyote and the rest of the team are oblivious; Jake looks like he's about to implode on the spot. You, on the other hand, are dancing and singing with girls along with so many others in the bar Bradley admires as you dance, blinded by music as if there is no world. It's just you and the notes floating in the air. He and Noah continue to slam down notes in rhythm together, smiling at each other minorly as they play the last notes, and the crowd erupts in applause and whistles. He can hear Bob yelling, “Yeah, Rooster!” as Phoenix makes a rooster call, hands cupped around her hand to make it louder. Everyone else was clapping and laughing along.

Bradley smiles but starts shaking as he feels a small dainty hand on his shoulder, looking up and seeing your gorgeous glowing smile and bright (E/C) sparkling. “You are amazing, Rooster. Jakey never said you could sing!” Bradley sucks in breath. “He's told you about me.” Suddenly, Jake inserts himself between you, Jake grabbing your hand gently like you were a little girl who just ran from him. “I did,” he said, glaring in Bradley's direction, turning to you, saying, “Go back up there; little bird people are waiting on you.” he smiled, and you happily turned and hopped back on stage as if nothing ever happened.

Jake turns, facing chest to chest to Bradley, glaring. He says, “Bradshaw, I know what your thinking, and better fucking stop thinking it, or I swear I will make you regret everything you've ever done in life” Jake turns and points subtly at you. “She is my family; don't ever mistake or Mix that up. She's off limits to all of you, but especially you. Sound crystal to you, Bradshaw?” During this entire threat, Bradleys shakes his head with a smile and red cheeks, just watching as you and your band set up to start.

You throw the strap over your shoulder for your Gibson. You smile and pull your (H/T) from under the straps. You are adjusting the microphone and preparing to sing. Before you do, you look to where Bradley is standing, wholly frozen and silent in front of Jake; you smile and start humming your starting notes.

Bradley looks back to your brother and says, “Clear, Would never dream of it” With a smirk, he turns his back, walking, leaving Jake completely baffled, mumbling to himself, “What the fuck does that even mean? I saw the eyes he's been giving her, those creepy eyes all night.”

As Bradley sits back with Phoenix and Bob, they eye him patiently, waiting for him to say how it went and what Jake had said. No one gets their answers, though, cause the rest of the night, one pair of eyes is set to the other like they were connected by string.

Bradley isn't sure how or when he'll make you his songbird, but he would happily follow you anywhere to listen to your melodic songs.

All rights belong to the original creator of the Top Gun Franchise. I do not own any of these characters except band characters; this is all just for fun

[e-dubbc11]

Ericca, my love. I come to you with a little idea (and challenge) ❤️

We both know how much you love Frank Grillo, so I had an idea for another one of his characters. Leo Barnes from The Purge franchise.

Reader being a sweet waitress at a Cafe where Leo buys his coffee. They always have polite exchanges, bordering on flirting. Maybe some hidden feelings? Then Purge night comes along and by some freak accident she's trapped outside. And of course Leo is there to save the day. And maybe... a little kiss at the end? 🥺👉👈

A little coffee shop meet-cute meets horror. If anyone can do it, you can. I kept it deliberately vague, cause I want you to have artistic freedom 🤣❤️

Sweet Lily,

I love your challenges for me so so much! I’ve been watching a LOT of Frank Grillo lately and yes, you’re right, I love him 🤣🥵 and Leo is obviously a character I haven’t written for before but I loved this idea and I just think he’s so smexy. I know this wasn’t a sleepover ask but it’s been done for a little while so I just wanted to get it out. I hope you like it and thank you again for sending it in! ♥️♥️♥️

A Call for Help

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Sergeant Leo Barnes x F! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence, little fluff, little smooching

Word Count: 4.1K-ish

Summary: It’s 2 days before the yearly Purge. You’re working in a coffee shop, and your regular, Sergeant Barnes, comes in just like every morning for his coffee.

A/N: This is my first time writing for Leo and I really really liked it. I’d definitely be willing to write for him again. For those who aren’t aware, Sergeant Leo Barnes is from The Purge: Anarchy.

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Los Angeles, March 20, One day before the annual Purge

This was probably one of the worst decisions you’ve ever made. Moving to Los Angeles was a terrible idea and you’ve regretted it every single day since you’ve been out here. Smog, crime, and homelessness were just three of the reasons this was an awful place to live, plus you really missed home on the east coast.

No one put on fake smiles there. You missed the scowls and the open judgement of home and now you were living in a place where the smiles were as fake as the boobs.

But your boyfriend had convinced you it would be a good thing. A fresh start in a new city was just what you needed according to him and stupidly, you agreed with him. What a stupid idea to pick up and leave all of your family and friends behind for a man you’ve known for less than year.

However, about three months after the two of you arrived in L.A., you caught him cheating with bleach blonde bimbo with fake tits, fake hair, and who knows what else was fake on Malibu Barbie.

Feeling ashamed and stupid, you knew you couldn’t go home right away plus you didn’t have enough money to leave. You worked two jobs to make the money you needed so you worked tirelessly in a coffee shop during the day and a few nights a week, you tended bar at an upscale gentleman’s club where the clientele handed you ridiculous tips.

You probably didn’t even need to work at the coffee shop during the day because of the money you made at the club but the more money you brought in, the faster you could get back home and leave Los Angeles far behind.

The aroma of coffee was one of your favorite scents, it made you happy and the veteran owned coffee shop where you worked was welcoming and cozy. You didn’t have to pretend to enjoy working there because you actually did. Sure, you had the occasional rude customer that you had to put a fake smile on for but most of the time, it was a pleasure to work there.

When anyone but your regulars would come in, you and your co-workers would try and make a guess of what kind of coffee they wanted before they arrived at the counter. It was a fun game.

No one really ordered coffee flavored coffee anymore though. It was always a hazelnut concoction, or a touch of chocolate, a pump of this, almond milk, oak milk, or whatever the newest trend was in coffee. They all had to have it…except for him.

He only ever ordered a large black coffee and for that, he was your favorite customer.

Sergeant Barnes had deep brown hair, lightly tanned skin, and his eyes were the color of Tennessee whiskey. His golden amber eyes made your stomach flutter every morning when he came in around 8:30.

His thick fingers scratched at the days old stubble on his cheeks after he walked through the door and the raspy tone to his voice made you weak in the knees every time he said “Mornin’, sweetheart.” Plus, his police uniform really did it for you.

Everyone at work knew you had a crush on Sergeant Barnes. You didn’t really try and hide it. The way you jumped to the front counter whenever he walked through the door was obvious to them, not so much to him though.

Biting back a smile, you saw him walk up to the door while everyone behind the counter scattered so you were the only one available to wait on him.

“Real subtle, you guys.” You said.

Jane chuckled and said sarcastically, “Hey, we know how much you loooooove him. We don’t blame you either, your Sergeant is pretty hot.”

“Alright, keep your voice down.” You said with a slight grin. “He’s coming.”

“Maybe he’s just breathing heavy.” Another one of your co-workers said.

You playfully slapped him. “Tim! Shut it!”

The lines around his eyes crinkled when he smiled at you.

“Mornin’, sweetheart. Anyone give you shit today? I can go arrest them if they did.” He said in a lighthearted tone.

A wide smile stretched across your lips and your voice got caught in your throat as you answered, “Uh, n-no. Not today, Sergeant. The usual?”

“The usual…please.” He replied.

You turned around to fill the cup with black coffee and your friends were looking at you, grinning like idiots. Jane tried to make hand gestures to try and get you to engage in more conversation with him.

It was a little morbid but you started talking about the Purge anyway.

“S-so the Purge is tomorrow night, huh? I imagine it gets pretty brutal in a city like L.A.” You said, your voice shaking a little.

Sergeant Barnes took his wallet from his pants and tapped the machine to pay for his coffee. His expression hardened when he heard the words. The muscles in his face tightened as he clenched his teeth and wrapped his fingers around his coffee cup.

“It is sweetheart and you make sure you’re locked up inside before those sirens go off, understand?” He said in angry tone.

You could feel all of the color in your face disappear and you imagined your face was as white as a marble pillar. You folded your hands together and rested them on the counter to stop them from shaking while staring into his sad eyes.

He could tell he frightened you a little, looking at his body language and hearing the gruff tone to his voice.

“Ah, I’m sorry y/n. I didn’t mean to snap at ya. I just want you to stay safe, is all. Ok?” He said softly.

You nodded and said uneasily as you tried to smile, “Y-yes, I-I understand.”

Sergeant Barnes reached for your hand. His fingers were calloused but his touch was gentle and comforting, almost protective in a way.

“It’ll be alright. I’ll see ya tomorrow.” He said as his brushed your knuckles with his thumb and gave you a warm smile.

He walked out and you didn’t exhale until he was out of sight. That’s when everyone ran up to you making comments to you about how they could tell the Sergeant likes you.

Imitating the Sergeant, Jane said “’I just want you to stay safe.’ Oh my god, he’s into you too!”

“Nah, maybe he was just being nice. He knows I haven’t been in L.A. long so it’s my first Purge out here.” You said.

Jane rolled her eyes. “Yeah, ok. You’ll find out soon enough, won’t you.” She said.

You replied, “I suppose I will.”

7:00 AM, March 21, 12 Hours Before the Start of The Purge

The morning hours were usually pretty busy and time went by quickly but this morning was different, quieter, slower, which you found rather frightening. Even the air had an eerie feel to it because you knew what was coming…the one night a year where all crime was legal, even murder.

Back home you lived in a small New England town where nothing really happened except in larger cities. The next day, you would see all of the carnage left behind. Vandalism, robberies, burning buildings, the dead bodies…as much as you were hardened by the tough upbringing you had back home, nothing prepared you for what was going to happen 12 hours from now.

And you hated to admit it to yourself but it scared you because you were all alone now. You didn’t have anyone out here to go to feel safe.

It was close to 8:30 and you knew Sergeant Barnes would be in soon so everyone was acting busy, cleaning, preparing online orders, or doing whatever they could to give you space so you could talk to your crush.

Jane checked the time. “It’s almost 8:30, y/n. Hey maybe your Sergeant will ask you to stay with him during Purge hours. He’ll be able to keep you safe then.” She said with a wink.

“Well I doubt it but if you wanna manifest that for me, you’re more than welcome to. My building is pretty secure and I’m high up so I should be ok.” You said.

It didn’t mean you wanted to sit there all night and watch the news because you definitely wouldn’t be able to sleep.

As you wiped down the front counter, you looked up to see Sergeant Barnes getting ready to reach for the door handle. He wasn’t wearing his police uniform though. In place of his uniform, he was wearing a black t-shirt, gray pants, and a black jacket.

You said hello first.

“Good mornin’ Sergeant. You’re not working today?” You asked.

He shook his head, smiled and replied, “Not today, sweetheart. I got some stuff to take care of before tonight. What time are you workin’ until today?”

Warmth spread across your chest and your stomach dropped. Nervously, you replied, “Here? Me? Uh, w-well I’m working until 2 and then I have some errands to run before I go home for the night. Lemme get you your coffee.”

You turned around and poured his coffee into a cup, your hand shaking slightly which he noticed.

“You ok, y/n?” He asked. “Nervous?”

With a hitch in your voice, you replied, “Yeah, well, uh maybe a little.”

“Tell ya what…how bout I check on ya right before the sirens go off, make sure you’re home and all locked up.” He said, sliding his phone across the counter. “Put your number in there and I’ll call you, ok? I promise.”

You felt your shoulders relax and your hands stopped shaking as you typed in your number into his phone. You were feeling better already.

“Thank you, Sergeant Barnes. This is really nice of you. Can I get you anything else for the road? A muffin or a breakfast sandwich, perhaps?” You asked.

“I’m good with just the coffee, sweetheart. Thank you. And y/n?” He said.

You looked up from the register and replied, “Yes?”

“It’s Leo…my first name is Leo.” He said with a wink.

You couldn’t hide the fact you were blushing now. Biting down on your lower lip, you managed to reply with, “Ok…Leo. I guess I’ll talk to you soon.”

Leo brushed your knuckles with his fingers again and replied, “Yes, you will.”

After quickly running to the store for some supplies, mostly food, you headed for home. It was 6:30, plenty of time to walk home and get settled before the sirens went off. But when you arrived at your building, everything was locked up tight. Metal panels were fastened to the side of the building, blocking all of the exits, leaving only the fire escapes open.

You looked at your watch…6:50. There wasn’t any time to find a safe place to go. Looking down the street, you could see figures dressed in dark clothing, sweatshirts with hoods, and wearing creepy face masks, they were just waiting for those sirens to go off indicating the start of the Purge. And you couldn’t be sure but you had the sinking feeling that they were looking right at you.

Suddenly, your phone started to ring. You didn’t recognize the number but remembered Sergeant Barnes said he would call later to make sure you were alright and ready to wait out the next 12 hours. Maybe this was him.

With a shaky finger, you pressed the answer button.

“H-hello?” You said with a hitch in your voice.

He replied, “Hey y/n, it’s Leo. Just callin’ to make sure you’re home and safe.”

There was a long pause because you were trying to regain your composure to answer him, otherwise you were going to burst into tears.

He said your name again.

“Y/n? Hello?”

You finally answered.

“Y-yeah, I’m here Leo. Uh, I’m locked out of my building! I came home and everything was shut up tight, I can’t get in! I don’t know what happened! I can’t get anywhere in five minutes to wait out the next 12 hours, there’s no time!” You said in a scared tone.

Leo barked into the phone. “Where are you?!!”

You told him your address.

“Yeah, ok I know where that is. Try and find a place to hide and I’ll be there in FIVE minutes!” He said.

Tightly hugging the walls of your building, you crept around the corner to the alley. You knew there were a couple of dumpsters you could probably hide behind. He said five minutes which would take you right to 7:00.

You told yourself, “it won’t be for that long…he’ll be here soon.”

There was a small space in between two large dumpsters you managed to wedge yourself into while you impatiently waited for Leo to show up and how was he already so close to where you are? Did he live nearby? Was he participating in the Purge?

A restless shiver shot down your back as goosebumps danced across your skin. The hair on the back of your neck was standing on end as you crouched down low and out of sight while hugging your body to try and stop yourself from shaking uncontrollably.

Just as you heard the sirens, you also heard voices at the end of the alley, none of which were Leo’s.

“I saw her come down here.” One of them said.

Another replied, “You didn’t see shit, there’s no one down here! Let’s go.”

Along with their voices, the sound of a wooden baseball bat being dragged across the pavement could be heard echoing all around you. There was no place left to hide and you could only hope they would get frustrated and leave.

“Wait. She could be hiding around those dumpsters down there. Let’s go check.” He said.

Shit.

You couldn’t make a run for it. There were a lot more people waiting outside the alley than inside plus Leo told you told you to stay there. He was coming for you.

You could hear the footsteps getting closer and your heart was racing as it beat faster and harder against your chest until the sounds of the baseball bat stopped and you heard the voices again.

“You were right. She’s over here and she is a pretty little thing, isn’t she.” He said.

Two of them were wearing these creepy white masks and a third had his face painted white, black circles drawn under his eyes and an upside down cross had been drawn on his forehead. Pointing his machete at you, he silently told you he wanted you to come out.

The ones with the baseball bats began striking the dumpster over and over again, scaring you each time the bats hit against the dumpsters and the loud noises echoed throughout the alley.

The tears came hard and fast. They streaked down your cheeks uncontrollably as you opened your mouth to try and speak to them.

“P-please, y-you don’t wanna do th-this.” You choked out.

One of them that was holding a bat, stopped to look at you. From behind the mask, it had appeared that he had recognized you.

“5C?!” He said.

5C was your apartment number.

You replied, “Yes! Yes! I’m in 5C!”

“She’s always nice to us, man. Come on, leave her alone.” He pleaded.

The leader shoved him out of the way.

“I’ll decide who lives or dies! You got that?!” He yelled.

The other two nodded as the one with the machete started to speak again but was suddenly cut off. You heard three gun shots, then each of them hitting the pavement and crying out in pain. They had all been shot in the knee caps.

“Let’s go! Come on, y/n!” Shouted Leo.

He waved you out from in between the dumpsters, grabbed you by the hand and you started running toward the black car that was parked at the end of the alley.

“Get in the backseat and stay outta sight, understand?!” Commanded Leo.

Out of breath, you managed to choke out, “Y-yes. I understand! But why are you out here, Sergeant? You’re dressed like you’re…Purging!”

Leo didn’t answer you; he just started driving.

“LEO!!” You said, angrily.

“You could just say ‘thank you,’ sweetheart, alright?! I like you but what I’m doing out here is none of your concern.” He said, glancing at you in the rearview mirror.

Softly, you replied, “Thank you…thank you for saving me, Sergeant. But you’re stuck with me for the next 12 hours, so can you please tell me why you’re out here, dressed like you are, and why you have a car full of guns? Please, Leo.”

Cowering in the backseat, your eyes met his gaze every time he glanced at you in the mirror. His eyes were the color of amber and right before the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, they reflected in the mirror, matching the gold in the sunset. They were beautiful.

Leo was always very pleasant and nice every single morning when he came in to get his coffee but there was something very sad behind his beautiful eyes. Other than the pleasantries, you didn’t know anything more about him than any other customer of yours…but you wanted to.

He pulled over in an area that seemed pretty safe and parked the car. Making sure the doors were locked, he turned the engine off, and leaned with his back against the window so he could look at you.

Without warning, he told you why he was out tonight.

“My son was killed by a drunk driver but since he technically died on Purge night, the driver got off on that technicality.” He said in a low angry voice and a touch of acid in his tone.

Your heart sank into your stomach and cutting through the silence you said, “Oh Leo…I’m…I’m so sorry.”

That’s why his eyes were so sad.

He replied, “So you said I look like I’m dressed to purge…well, you’re right. I am. I want that son of a bitch dead. He took my son from me and I want him to pay for what he did.”

You placed your hand on top of his. The smooth skin of your palm brushed against the rough dry patches on his knuckles and with your other hand, you slowly and carefully brushed the stubble on his cheek.

“Don’t look at me that way, y/n. I already know what you’re going to say.” He said before you cut him off.

“Well I’m gonna say it anyway, Leo. You’re not gonna feel any better and it’s not going to bring your son back!” You said.

Leo glared at you with his whiskey colored eyes and with a dry bitterness in his throat, he said, “How do you know I won’t feel better?! Huh?!!”

Instead of matching his intensity, you calmly but firmly said, “Because that hole in your heart will still be there when it’s all over. Please don’t do this.”

He didn’t care and he wasn’t hearing what you had to say.

“Listen, I’m gonna drop you off at my apartment. You’ll be safe there ‘til I get back. I disabled one of the security panels at his house so it will be quick, in and out and I’ll be back alright?” He said.

The entire ride back to his apartment, you begged him not to go through with it, to the point where you tried to block him from leaving or at least taking you with him but it was no use.

He left you with a few guns and weapons, just in case but he said he would be back soon and he would take you home in the morning after the Purge was all over.

Leo had secured his place really well so you felt safe but scared for him. You knew it wasn’t going to make anything better, it wouldn’t help him heal, and it wouldn’t bring his son back.

One of the pictures you found of Leo’s son had his name written on the back…Nicholas. He had a very sweet face and he looked a lot like Leo.

Maybe if you had tried harder to keep him from leaving, Leo wouldn’t be out there right now murdering the man who killed his son.

You couldn’t even begin to try and know how he felt but he was in agony and the only way he knew how to deal with it was an eye for an eye. It was too late though and all you could do was sit and wait for him to come back.

You had managed to find some tea and the tv remote control. It was hidden in the couch cushions. Almost every channel was covering the Purge but all you wanted to do was escape from it so you searched until you found a movie that was far from anything that was going on outside.

No matter how many times you’ve seen it, The Wizard of Oz was one of your favorite movies so you watched it whenever it was on tv and no matter where it was in the movie too, you’d still watch it to the end.

At around 12:30 you head keys in the door. You had been too wired to try and sleep so you just drank tea and nervously bit your nails. Obviously, it had to be Leo if he was using keys to get inside but you still didn’t want to take any chances so you positioned yourself in front of the door with one of his guns in your hands.

The door cracked open and you heard a voice from behind it.

“Sweetheart, put the gun down, it’s just me.” He said.

How did he know?

“It’s been hours, Leo. Where have you been?” You asked. “Where does this guy live?! I hope you got what you wanted out of it because—“

Leo interrupted you.

“I didn’t do it.” He said softly.

“What?” You replied in a very surprised tone.

He closed the door behind him and started to walk toward you, stopping inches from your face.

“I could have. I was in the guy’s bedroom, while he and his wife were sleeping. I could have done it but then I kept hearing a voice in my head…your voice saying ‘that hole in your heart will still be there when it’s all over.’ Your voice stopped me from pulling that trigger.” His voice sounded extra raspy.

“Leo—“ You started to say before he cut you off.

He pinched your chin in between his thumb and forefinger, tilted it upward so you were looking into his eyes and he planted a soft kiss on your lips.

“I’m sorry.” Said Leo. “I just wanted to feel something other than hate and sadness. And no one has been able to change my mind once I’ve made up my mind about something but I listened to you.”

You replied, “I imagine that couldn’t have been easy but…I’m glad you did. And I’m not gonna pretend I know what you must be feeling because I don’t but I do know that it wouldn’t have made things any better.”

Closing the gap between your faces, you kissed him. Leo’s lips tasted sweet like caramel and black coffee. His mouth slanted over yours which made your entire body shudder.

Pulling you into an embrace, the two of you stood there in silence for a minute. Leo released a long exhale down the side of your neck, goosebumps erupted across your skin, and he squeezed you tightly against his chest.

“Thank you.” Whispered Leo.

You gave him a warm smile and replied, “You’re welcome, Sergeant Barnes.” Glancing at your watch, you asked, “Well we have about 6 hours left, what do you wanna do?”

As he brushed a stray hair away from your face, he replied, “Well…if you can’t tell, I kinda like ya so I’d love to get to know you better.”

Warmth spread across your cheeks as you bit back a smile.

You felt safe in his arms and deep down you knew Leo would never let anything bad happen to you. He rescued you barely knowing anything about you, only that you poured his coffee every morning but he did it anyway.

And in a way, you rescued him too.

Softly against his chest, you whispered, “I’d like that too.”

Tag List: @gijos

[cookiesupplier]

Hell Ain't So Bad - Part One

pairing: Noah Sebastian x ofc (Ellie) 

warnings/tropes: slow burn, smut (eventually), angst, fluff, mentions of death, mentions of torture, thoughts of religious ideology, and swearing. – potential more to be added at stories progression

summary: Ellie is lost in the world, homeless and has been out of the world for so long in her mind she has no idea what to do and nowhere to go.. When the perfect opportunity falls into her lap, she doesn’t want to pass it up.. Turns out though, it might be a little bit stranger than she ever expected. Who would have thought that one day, she’d end up working in hell itself.. And what does this even mean?

author’s note: This first part was originally written as Reader/first person, but re-edited as Ellie/third person as its what's I'm used do if I missed anything please, feel free to let me know. Unbetaed, readers beware..

Warning, this is a slow burn... I scream at my computer with slow burns... so how well I will handle my own slow burn I have absolutely no idea... lol but as per my notes... I can't even promise Ellie will even meet Noah for um. a. few. parts. Don't lynch me.

ALL COMMENTS ARE WELCOME. (my replies are broken I will reply via reblog to yours)

tags: Tags are open if anyone is interested.

The day Ellie sold her guitar was the beginning of the end. It had been all going down hill for a long time. Ellie knew, of course, she knew. The whole world knew it to be honest, it isn’t just her that was struggling but she had dropped out of college and had been picking up work wherever she could find it just to get by and pay rent. Ellie had even tried Only Fans, but not even taking off her clothes and videoing herself for strangers on the internet had gotten her the money she needed to keep her from the predicament that she was in now. Not being able to even pay her monthly phone bill had put a stop to uploading the videos and images to continuing getting money from Only Fans for the bill, she had tried to get around it, but trying to access the free wifi at the library had been nixed the moment the librarian saw exactly what she was doing.

Boy had Ellie been banned there so fast anyone would think steam was about to come out of the librarian’s ears.

She didn’t blame her for that, but a girl had to eat, and eventually, when she stopped uploading the little content she had managed to get to her account, the money that she had had coming in from her subscribers, had dried up very quickly, and then she had nothing to even scrounge for the slightest morsel of food. Ellie hadn’t eaten a decent meal in what felt like…

Screw what felt like. She hasn't had even a scrap of food that hasn’t been begged, stolen, or fished out of the garbage in weeks.

Months since it was anything but dollar packs of noodles. Dry unless Jake let her borrow his camp stove to cook them.. She always shared if he did. He brought the kettle camp stove, and she bought the noodles and they ate huddled under the overpass, pretending they weren’t homeless, down on their luck, beggars.. Bound to get chased away, or worse, the next time a cop patrol came riding by. Jake was a good egg though, he could get into a shelter so much easier than her, but he never went, always saying there was too much noise, too many people. He was a veteran with PTSD, he’d lost the lower half of one of his right leg last time he was on active duty, and she was always willing to listen to the story, even if she heard it every time they shared a pack of noodles.

It had been a few days.

The overpass.

Ellie wished she could say that actually sleeping here was a new development, but it had been where she had been calling home for some weeks now. There used to be a tent city in the park for so many like her, but then the council had decided that was an unlawful assembly and chased them out. Sadly in that chaos, Ellie had lost the, admittedly flimsy, tent covering that had kept her at the very least dry of the night. That had been a few weeks back. Now, the overpass was usually where she spent her nights.

If she was lucky.

That’s right, if she was lucky.

If she wasn’t, she would go out and look to find a park bench. The other option was possibly huddled up somewhere random in a shop stoop and praying to whatever deity out there, if there was any at all, and hoped that it didn’t rain, and she woke up before the shop owners got in and chased her away the next morning.

Not that it really mattered. She could never get properly warm anyway, despite the fact Ellie was wearing literally every layer of clothes that she hadn’t sold. She just couldn’t stay warm, and that cough she’d had for weeks now just didn’t want to go away. If she couldn’t afford a place to live, it wasn’t like she could afford the treatment the doctors said she needed. The free clinic was pointless. No, sorry, that was horrible of her to even think. No it wasn’t, It had a point, but so far the drugs they’d given her only seemed to help much for a short period of time, but at least they did help, for a little bit. Still, the cough was relentless, it always came back despite the fact she always tried to do what they told her. She tried everything she could to stay as dry, and as warm as she could. Unfortunately every time it came back, and it made sleeping extremely difficult when every night she woke up feeling like she was trying to cough up her lungs from her chest, barely able to breath. It felt like something was sitting on her chest.

Today, Ellie seemed to have dozed off mid afternoon, she didn’t remember doing it, but she must have with the way she awoke with a start this afternoon. She hadn’t even realized that she’d drifted off, damn she was so tired, it happened when her coughing got so bad that she couldn’t manage to sleep more than tiny cat naps.. Probably about time to go back to the free clinic and see if they could give her some more meds and get just a little bit of relief, even if it was only for another short time, anything was better than nothing.

Waking up coughing, she raised a gloved hand to her mouth.

It was instinct.

Who didn’t cover their mouth when they coughed?

However, the pressure in her chest, the ache, the pain in her throat, then the drops of blood that she spots on her fingers when she struggles to pull a breath in and drop her hand from her mouth as the coughing eases slightly.. And her stomach drops.

Fuck.

That isn’t good.

Definitely free clinic time.

“Hey, you okay?”

Looking up from her hand, Ellie’s fingers closing in a fist quick as she swallows looking to the frankly clean, neat, man with bright eyes, a kind smile, more than a few tattoos, blonde short hair and is squatting down to her level,

“Ye-”

Ellie’s voice was rough, her throat feeling like a cheese grater from the coughing, but clearing her throat a little bit gently she continued,

“Yea, just really tired, I’m probably just getting a cold.”

Liar. Bold faced liar. She sees the man smile a little more, glad he accepts the white lie. Least she hopes he does anyway.

“Best get you to the clinic then.. Here, have a sandwich until then, fill that belly, and when you go, maybe check this place out too, it’s right across the street, I have a buddy over there, I think he could help you. Ask for Nicholas. He’s one of the nicer ones, I promise.”

That smile was winning as he stood up and walked the way he came. Ellie saw it then, the truck he was walking towards, he came from a homeless shelter.

She didn’t recognize the name though, that was weird. Looking at the card, the writing was fuzzy, like her eyes weren’t working properly for a second, and, and then the words formed. Oh, there it went. Huh. It was an unemployment agency. That’s funny, she thought she’d been to every single one in the city, she didn’t recognize this one either. That was really strange, he wasn’t acting like he was new to the area. New people had this way about them, she'd noticed, very buddy buddy, trying to be everyone's best friend. Now this guy, yes he’d been nice, but then he’d left her with the sandwich, holding the card in her hand, slightly blood smeared from her fingers, and then gone back about his work.. Like he was an old hand at this.

Looking down at the card, Ellie sighed. Nicholas.

Well, she obviously needed to go to the clinic anyway right. Even if she had a strange feeling about it, Ellie tucked the card into her ratty jeans pocket and opened up the sandwich. She’d only eat half now and save the other half for tomorrow, for before she’d go and see if she could get in at the clinic.

Ellie had been waiting hours to get in at the clinic.

Just her luck. There were too many people and she had already this morning been waiting there for so long that she knew she would end up sleeping on the front stoop if she continued on trying to wait to see a doctor. No matter how many times she tried to get the nurses attention, there was always someone who was yelling louder than her, and not even when she had another coughing fit did that get her attention..

It was late afternoon by the time that Ellie was finally taking a time out from the chaos and a short break to get some fresh air by the door, just trying to breathe, that you spotted the friendly man from the day before.. Waving at you from the building across the road.. That was where he’d said the agency was, across the road.

He was waving her over.

Glancing back into the clinic, she’d be waiting here for hours still and she knew it, and she wasn't even sure the nurse had ever put her name on the list of patients despite already being here, for hours already. Signing in this morning had been the strangest thing, she’d set the intake form down, and yet, nothing.

Walking across the street towards the guy, he was still smiling..

“I was wondering when you’d arrive.”

So, he was that sure she’d come, strange. Swallowing, her throat hurt so much from all the coughing, but she didn’t want to complain, not if she could get a job, any job right now would be better than nothing.

“Come on in, I’m Steven by the way, let’s find Nick, he’s the guy for you, I know it.”

Ellie followed him, she felt obliged to this time, not sure why, like she was being tugged along. The building wasn’t anything strange, just an office building.

“Ah, here we go, right though here.. Nicholas Ruffilo. He'll be able to help you.”

Well, here goes nothing. What did she have to lose right?

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[katareyoudrilling]

Construction Corner (Joel Miller AU) Epilogue: A Very Special Episode

Fandom: The Last of Us/Pedro Pascal

Pairing: TV Host Joel Miller x divorced Female Reader

Summary: Friends and family gather to watch the final episode of Construction Corner

Word count: 1.4k

Rating: Teen (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: Alternate Universe, cameos galore, inaccuracies about tv show production, filming, and construction, fluffity fluff fluff

A/N: Thank you so much for your support of this series! I have so enjoyed writing it!  I know it’s sad for it to end, but the door is wide open for drabbles, so feel free to pop into my ask box when you’re craving Construction Corner.  Big thank you to @yespolkadotkitty for letting me borrow Zach and Martha from You Found Me/Say You’ll Stay.  I hope you like what I’ve done with them!  Also, a big thank you to @wheresarizona for the beta and for her unwavering support of this series since it was just a random daydream I had one day ❤️

Comments and reblogs very much appreciated!

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“Y’all really don’t have to stay to watch this,” Joel pleads, carrying dishes into the kitchen.

“What are you talking about? We wouldn’t miss the season finale!” Frank exclaims, following closely after him.  “Besides, it’s Bill’s favorite show.  He never misses an episode.”

Surprised, you all turn to look at Bill, who had followed Frank in from the patio.  He shifts uncomfortably under your attention and scuffs the toe of his boot against the floor.

“I like that you teach them things,” he mumbles gruffly, looking down at his feet.

“See!” Frank exclaims, squeezing his husband’s shoulders.  Having Bill and Frank as neighbors has been one of the best parts of moving in with Joel.  They are delightful.

“Get over it, Dad.  I’m home for the summer, and we’re watching.”  Sarah hip-checks Joel as she sets the last of the dishes on the counter.

Joel sighs, leaning against the counter next to you.

“I’m afraid you’re outnumbered,” you lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek.  Joel is a modest man, but you know he’s proud of his show and especially this episode.  His innate Southern gentlemanliness just won’t let him bask in all the attention.

The five of you leave the remnants of your dinner in the kitchen and move into the family room.  Joel sits down in the middle of the couch.  You snuggle in on one side of him while Sarah does the same on the other and turns on the TV.

You had been nervous about how things would go when Sarah got home from school.  Your relationship with Joel had developed while Sarah was away, and the two of them had been a unit for so long.  Your presence was bound to complicate things.

You confided your concerns to Joel one night when you were talking about moving in together, and he sheepishly confessed that Sarah had given her blessing long before.

It was just like Joel to be thinking so far down the line, letting you take your time catching up.

It’s only been a few days since Sarah arrived home from her freshman year of college, but so far, things between the three of you are comfortable and easy.  Sandwiching Joel between the two of you on the couch feels totally natural.

The Construction Corner theme music starts playing, and you all turn your attention to the screen.  Instead of the usual homeowner intro package, Joel appears alone.

“Welcome to Construction Corner, I’m Joel Miller.  Usually, I help a homeowner with a DIY project that’s gotten out of control, but today, we’re doin’ things a bit different.

Zach and Martha have dreamed of openin’ a soup kitchen and community gatherin’ place for the veterans of Houston.  They don’t need my help, but I’m here to offer it anyway.”

Joel turns to walk inside a storefront, and the voiceover begins:

Zach, a veteran himself, knows how difficult transitioning back to civilian life can be.

“I was homeless and unemployed,” Zach says to the camera, standing with one arm around Martha’s shoulders. “It was bleak.  I don’t know where I would be if I hadn’t met Martha and gotten help from the community here.  That’s why I want to give back.”

“It shouldn’t be so difficult and isolating,” Martha continues. “Our hope is that this place will not only offer a hot meal, but a space for support group meetings, job training, and socializing for veterans and members of the community.  Our veterans deserve that.” Martha concludes, looking lovingly up at Zach.

The voiceover continues:

Zach and Martha have raised the money for their project from local business partners committed to their vision.  All that’s left is to get the space ready for the grand opening in just a few days.

On screen, Joel meets with Zach and Martha in the empty space and discusses with them how they want it to look and presents his plan.  It was such a great week of filming.  The whole crew got involved in painting walls and building tables.  It was a real group effort, and you know everyone felt proud to be able to help out.

The show ends with a grand opening block party and interviews with some of the area veterans about what this project means to them, finishing with Zach and Martha expressing their heartfelt thanks to everyone involved.  You notice Frank wipe away a tear as the episode comes to a close.

“That was really good, Dad.”  Sarah turns off the TV and smiles at Joel.

“Thanks, babygirl.  I really liked those two,” Joel says, hugging her into his side.

“Did you have a favorite project this season, Joel?” Frank asks.

“You know I like all of ‘em.  What did y’all like best?” Joel predictably turns the question around.

“I liked the patio.  They seemed like such a sweet couple, and you know I love to entertain,” says Frank, eyes twinkling.  Hardly a week goes by when you aren’t invited to join Frank on his patio for some occasion that usually ends with you and Frank gossiping over glasses of wine while Joel and Bill discuss the relative merits of roofing materials.

“I liked when you taught that father and daughter how to fix plumbing,” Bill interjects seriously.  “Calling a plumber is a waste of money.  I dug my own well. You can’t trust water from the government.”

“Bill, I want you on my side if there is ever a zombie apocalypse.  I bet you’d do just fine,” you tease.

“You have no idea,” whispers Frank conspiratorially.

“I liked the treehouse… it made me remember being little,” Sarah sighs wistfully.

“That one was a lot of fun.  I thought about what you would have wanted.”  Joel presses a kiss into her hair, and she snuggles deeper into his side.

“It’s difficult for me, but I guess I would have to go with the floor episode,” you muse.

“Really?” Frank asks, surprised. “Everyone seemed so uncomfortable in that one.  I wondered what was going on off camera.”

“Oh, it was a mess,” you laugh, “but I have my reasons.” You wink and squeeze Joel’s knee.  Next to you, Joel blushes to the tips of his ears.

“Oh no… did you?... wait... I don’t want to know,” Sarah groans, and everyone laughs.

“What was your favorite, Joel?” you ask, shifting to drape your arm across his broad shoulders and card your fingers through his hair.

“You know I can’t pick, but I do have a favorite part of the season,” he responds earnestly.

“Oh?”

“My favorite part was you, sunshine.” Joel looks up at you with his brown, puppy dog eyes full of love.

“Aww!” exclaims Frank at the same time as Sarah groans and flops dramatically sideways on the couch.

You laugh as you press a kiss into Joel’s scruff and whisper in his ear, “That is such a cop-out, but I’ll allow it.”

Conversation turns to other topics and, eventually, Sarah drifts up to her room and Frank and Bill back to their house across the street.  You and Joel find your way out back to the patio to watch the sunset.  You take your place between Joel’s legs on a lounge chair, leaning against his broad chest.

It has become a habit to come out here to watch the sunset together at the end of the day.  The two of you sitting in comfortable silence, Joel stroking your arms absently while you listen to the slow, steady beat of his heart.  You love how safe and comfortable you feel with him.  You can let your guard down and just be.

“I meant what I said, you know,” he rumbles in your ear, breaking the silence.  You twist to face him, resting your cheek on his chest and looking up at his striking profile.  The golden sun highlights his arced nose and gorgeous cheekbones.  The man you love is very handsome.

“I know you did,” you reply.

“I love you,” Joel whispers, bending down to press a kiss to your lips.

“I love you, too,” you reply, emotion clogging your voice as you think back on the past year and all the years that led you to this place.

A year ago, your divorce wasn’t even final, but your marriage had fizzled out long before.  You envisioned years of bad dates ahead of you before you found someone you wanted to share your life with – if you even did.  You were ok with the idea of being single.  You were comfortable with yourself and didn’t need a relationship to feel fulfilled.

Then one day, a kind, beautiful, brown-eyed man said he was seeing things differently.

It goes to show – you just never know what’s going to happen.

The End.

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

A/N: This episode’s cameo comes from Brothers and Sisters via @yespolkadotkitty​‘s You Found Me/Say You’ll Stay

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[smaptain-smerica]

Female Reader x Rooster

Time: Post-Top gun: Maverick

Y/n Blackwood - L/n, daughter of Charlotte "Charlie" Blackwood. Y/n took a strong interest in planes from a young age. Knowing her father was an esteemed pilot drew her even further into the navy. Quickly, she became one of the best solo pilots and graduating at the top of her class at Top Gun.

Her next mission? Return to Top Gun, Face certain death, romantic interests, and finally, her thought-to-be-dead, father.

This book contains strong language and sexual content that may be sensitive readers under the age of 18

This story was originally posted on Wattpad, follow me on there for faster updates. I have published a non-binary version of this story published there for those who do not identify as female or use she/her pronouns. It will follow the exact same story line. Link to Wattpad Account Link to the Non-Binary version

Master list

Missed Call

Once Maverick finished his speech the crowd erupted into cheers. He was his usual charming and quippy self. What I learned that I didn't know before was that this was a fundraiser for Disabled and Homeless veterans. I made sure to drop whatever cash I had on me into the donation box on my way to find Hangman.

It didn't take me long to find him. He was outside where the pavement met the sand, staring off at the star filled horizons. The cold ocean chill hit my bare arms and I crossed my arms over my body.

I approached him from behind, putting a hand on his shoulder to announce my arrival. "You missed Mav's speech."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

I turned to fully face him now, my heels sinking slightly into the sands. We made eye contact. He gave me a small and weak smile, one that wasn't a genuine Jake smile.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

Hangman looked down at me with a smile on his face. It looked like a sad smile, the kind of smile that someone has when they have to be happy for someone else getting the job they wanted. Or maybe it was a sad longing.

"Everything's perfect y/n. Don't worry about me." He tried his best to reassure me, but I wasn't buying it. I shifted my weight to one hip and raised my eyebrow at him. A face that clearly stated; seriously?

Hangman chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "I should know better than to try and hide it from you, shouldn't I."

"Yes you should." I responded quickly. "Go on, out with it."

Hangman sighed, pausing before he talked. It looked like he was searching for the words to say. He chuckled to himself after finally finishing his thinking.

"I'm jealous of Bradshaw."

"Jealous?"

Hangman crossed his arms and looked down at me. "Don't get me wrong, for the longest time, I hated you."

"Thanks." I responded with a dry, sarcastic tone.

"You're welcome. I hated you because, well because you were exactly like me. Only better, but I'd never admit to it. But then we went our separate ways. Every now and again I would catch myself thinking about you, on dates or when I got into relationships. None of them challenged me or pushed me in the way that you did. I craved that feeling, but never found it. So when I heard you were going to be on this mission I thought that maybe this would be my chance to see if my feelings were real."

I was floored by Hangman's words. I had not seen this side of him before. His stance was closed off and he avoided eye contact completely. He acted sheepish, embarrassed. "We're they?" I asked tentatively.

"I don't know." He admitted. "Before I got the chance to figure that out you were running off with Bradshaw." He spoke with a little distaste in his voice. He sighed before continuing.

"But after we had gotten into one of our fights I realized, if I truly cared about you, you shouldn't be with me."

"Because we would rip each others heads off?" I finished his sentence with a playful tone to my voice, trying to deflect with humor. Hangman chuckled in response.

"I think you would beat me to it first."

Hangman and I laughed. I felt guilty, I hadn't known that he felt that way. Had I been playing with his feelings? Stringing him along unintentionally?

"Jake..."

He held his hand up before I could continue what I was going to say. "Don't say anything Wolf. You don't have to worry, we're still friends."

I looked at him with my eyebrows pushed together in a sad way that asked are you sure. She smiled at me and wrapped a hand around my shoulders and squeezed me in a side hug.

"Come on, you're cold. Which means you don't have enough alcohol in you." He teased as we walked back to the building together.

~~~

After dropping Hangman back off at base I went back to Bradley's. I opened the door to the dark house with a sigh. Every time I came home I hoped I would see Bradley sitting on the couch, waiting for me. I used to be fine being alone, completely content actually. I enjoyed it. I don't know why so much has changed since the accident. I felt like I was suddenly too dependent on Bradley's presence.

I undressed and slipped into some comfortable shorts and one of Bradley's shirts that he left behind. It was entirely too big on me. One thing I would always be grateful for though is a bed all to myself.

I found myself often not sleeping well, but tonight was particularly rough. I had a nightmare that I woke up from in a cold sweat, the feeling of panic completely encased over me. I looked around the dark room, only the moonlight peeking through the blinds.

I looked at Bradley's side of the bed, sadness falling over me. It was so hard and crushing that I almost instantly started crying without a rhyme or reason. I stood up and grabbed a tote bad. I threw a change of clothes, the essential toiletries and grabbed my uniform from the dryer. I slipped on my boots and didn't bother to tie them. With tears still in my eyes I got in the mustang and drove over to Mavericks house.

I pulled up into the driveway and fished out the spare key that he got for me and unlocked the door. I slowly creaked the door open only to be met by Penny's dog. He barked a couple times until I said his name to get him to calm down.

"Hey buddy, it's just me." I reassured him as he wagged his tail back and forth, licking my hands. I heard the floors above creaking and cursed to myself for waking somebody up. Slowly, Maverick crept his way down the stairs and we made eye contact.

"It's just me." I reassured him. He seemed to let out a breath of air in relief.

"Everything okay, kid?" He asked. I walked over to the couch and sat down, putting my head in my hands.

"Yeah. I just don't want to be alone."

I heard mavericks feet thump on the hardwood over to me and he sat down on the couch next to me. He put an arm around me and pulled me into him. I rested my head on his shoulder while he rubbed my back gently.

"Have you heard anything from Bradley?" He asked. I shook my head in response.

"Nope." I said, popping the "p". "Have you?"

"No." There was a silence between us that I could tell we were both worried.

"He's okay. We know that for sure." That was true, we haven't gotten a letter about him being injured or worse, officers showing up at either of our houses. He was just, MIA. Honestly, I would rather have the officers than keep wondering.

"I can blow up the air mattress for you?" Maverick offered. I shook my head.

"No that's okay. I'll just stay on the couch."

"Alright if you're sure." He paused, pushing up with his knees to stand up.

"Pete?" I asked.

"Yeah?" He asked eagerly.

"Would you wait here until I fall asleep?"

He smiled at me fondly and nodded. "Of course."

There was an arm chair next to the end of the couch where Maverick sat down. I laid my head down closest to that side of the couch. Maverick reached his hand over the arm chairs and his hand rested on my hairline. He slowly started brushing his hand over my head, in a comforting almost petting motion.

"How's being a teacher going?" Maverick asked.

"It's going okay. I got some pushback from this one student but I think I set him straight."

Maverick chuckled in response. "I wouldn't have any doubts that you did. So you're back in the air?"

I sighed. "Not quite. But I am ready. Hangman helped me get into the air now I just have to fly myself tomorrow."

Maverick hummed in understanding. "It was good to see him last night, I'm glad he came down to help at Top Gun."

"I asked him to come help me get back in the air. I quickly realized that I never want to be in the same plane as him again. That was very motivating."

Maverick chuckled and nodded his head. "I can definitely see that." He paused for a moment before continuing to talk. "How does Bradley feel about him being here? Last I heard he was holding a grudge."

I sighed, shrugging my shoulders. "I don't know if he read my messages to find out."

Maverick was silent after that. I could tell he wanted to say more, I knew he did. Bradley and I's relationship was sometimes a sensitive topic for us to discuss. It's difficult when you both confide in the same person about the other.

Slowly I drifted to sleep, feeling the comforting feeling of Maverick running his hand through my hair. It was soothing, and made my heart swell with joy. I was truly happy I had him in my life. I hadn't realized what I was missing out on.

~~~ Third person POV

Maverick jumped awake from a vibrating in his pocket. He looked around the room with sleep in his eyes, realizing he had fallen asleep in the chair next to y/n. Maverick pulled out his phone and saw that he was getting a call from an unknown number from overseas. This wasn't entirely uncommon to happen, but he noticed that it was from around the same place that Bradley was shipped off to.

"Hello?" He answered the phone.

"Mav?" The familiar voice on the other side of the phone asked. Maverick widened his eyebrows, surprised that his suspicions were true. He got up from the chair and walked into the other room as to not wake his daughter.

"Bradley? Are you okay?"

"Yes I'm fine. I don't have a lot of time to talk. I'm on a pay phone."

"Well why the hell haven't you been answering us?" Maverick asked, suddenly wanting to scold him for not updating them that he was okay.

"Y/n has been worried, she's over here right now because she didn't want to be alone." Maverick whisper shouted.

"I'm sorry Mav. I haven't been allowed to use my phone."

"Well why are you calling me and not y/n?"

"She has class tomorrow, she needs to sleep."

"And what about my sleep?" Maverick asked sassily.

"You'll be fine, old man."

Maverick couldn't help but smile at Bradley's never-ending sassiness. There was a commotion on the other end of the line and a few muffled shouts. Maverick heard Bradley yell 'Yes sir!' Before turning his attention back to the phone.

"You'll tell y/n I'm okay?"

"Yes, I will." Maverick sighed sadly.

"Thank you. I have to go, goodbye."

Before Maverick could say goodbye back there was a click and the sound of dial tone. He was mad at Bradley for not calling y/n. She was the one he wanted to be with after all. Maverick looked over to where y/n slept and saw her peaceful face illuminated in the moonlight.

Maybe it was better that she slept. His heart ached thinking about the things she went through, the things she might be struggling with. Maverick walked over to her, bending down and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. He moved to the dog that was at the end of the couch, tucked behind her legs. Maverick pet the dogs head with a smile.

"You look after her now, okay boy?" The dogs tail thumped on the couch while Maverick scratched his head.

With one last look at the pair on the couch, he walked towards the stairs to get back to bed with Penny.

Next Chapter

[jetiisyandereclones]

Yandere Kenobi Homeless Clone x Plus size! Reader

Warnings:

Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Smut

18+

Very mild Yandere content. Really only one instance of obsessive/protective behavior. More Hurt/Comfort than anything else.

@professional-yearner

Y/N had just managed to lock down her own studio on the scummier side of Daiu.

It wasn't her first pick, but it was hers. She had been rushing around, trying to get to her apartment in time to sign off for a delivery, or really just to make sure it wasn't stolen, when she had accidently tripped over the sleeping mans leg.

Y/N stumbled, ungracefully managing to regain her footing and looking back at the man, who was now awake.

"Sorry, sorry!" she called and continued towards home.

"That's okay" He replied quietly, observing as she went on her way.

The veteran settled back in for a nap, not quite being able to relax again down on the cold, busy street.

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

Y/N saw him again the next day.

Work was long and grueling and she was dead on her feet, stumbling home.

The clone was in the same spot as yesterday and when he saw her, he pulled his leg up to avoid another run in.

Y/N had been daydreaming when the sudden motion caught her attention. She looked up and saw it was the man she tripped over yesterday.

Upon a closer look she realized it was one of the old Republics clone Troopers, battered and beaten down, begging for credits in the street.

Her heart ached for them. They didn't deserve to be thrown aside by the empire. It was because of a trooper that she was even alive today.

Y/N didn't have much, but today had been a good day for tips. There had been a group come in who took particular liking to her... "proportions" in their words.

Y/N wasn't proud, but she grit her teeth and did whatever they wanted when she saw their planned tips for her, completing every unreasonable request and laughing off every comment as best she could.

Reaching into her bag, Y/N pulled out some credits, enough to get a decent meal, and dropped them into the clones helmet.

He looked up at her, nodding his thanks and she moved on.

It went down the same way the next day. Apparently the sleezebags from yesterday had decided they liked her, and came back. They promised to come back every day until she agreed to go out with the leader of their little pack.

As long as the tips kept coming, Y/N could swallow her pride and what little self respect she had.

On the way home, the trooper was in the same place.

Once again she dropped enough into his helmet to buy a meal. Again, he nodded his thanks, but this time there was recognition in his eyes. as if a recurring face wasn't one he saw often. `

She went on her way, and the trooper watched her go. She was a pretty thing, he thought off handedly.

A round, sweet face and luxuriously soft body housed, from what he had seen so far, a kind and generous soul. In another life he might have tried his luck with her.

But he wasn't a gleaming, strong hero anymore. So he let her walk away without saying a word, only hoping to see her tomorrow.

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He saw her tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that. For what seemed like forever to the trooper, the pretty lady would walk by him at night time, looking exhausted and run ragged, drop some credits into his helmet with a gentle smile then continue on her way.

He never said a word to her but every day he grew more attached, looking for her arrival and sorrowfully watching her leave.

He suddenly came to a startling conclusion one afternoon.

Kriff, he was starting to fall for her. He was too old for this, too destitute, too HOMELESS.

What would she see in him anyway? She was so pretty and young and soft and not scarred up and beaten down like him.

But he had been on the streets along time. He knew good people and bad people. Saw them day in and day out and she was the only one who was familiar, who spared him a second glance, looked and saw more than just gutter trash.

He couldn't help it, he started to imagine. Imagine what might have been had he met her under different circumstances.

The woman was clumsy, she day dreamed a lot. He imagines that he could have swooped in and saved for from an accident, maybe stopped her being hit by a speeder.

He imagines being able to flirt with and woo the lady. A handsome, decorated soldier in shining armor, fresh off of his victory in the war, serving under a great General.

He'd charm and seduce and care and protect his woman.

He'd hold her close, the feeling of her soft belly and thighs an absolute godsend against the plush flesh that once covered his strong and capable body.

The clone would love up on, massage, rub, kiss and caress every inch, every roll, dip and valley the temple of her body had to offer.

He'd watch her squirm, make her pant and mewl under dedicated, strong and gentle hands...

He stopped himself there, noticing that for the first time in a long time, there was a heat and stirring in his lower belly and a familiar twitching between his legs.

The clone sneered, self loathing shooting through him and scaring a few children passing by.

Any arousal at his own thoughts was immediately put out at the reminder of his situation.

He was homeless.

Disgusting and begging like a worm. She was out of his reach and he should just be happy he got to see her at all.

In the end, however, he was still a man. A man whos decade long loneliness was single handedly being fought off by the woman of his dreams, and she didn't even know it!

Caught in his own mind, he didn't see her approach, earlier than usual.

Y/N cleared her throat, trying to get his attention without spooking the veteran.

He looked up, startled and confused.

The clever girl must have read his mind because she began a nervous explanation.

"Uh, my workplace closed early because of an incident with a staff member. I, uh, don't have any credits, but I managed to swipe this from the kitchens, if you'd like?"

She sounded nervous. He hoped it wasn't because of him. He never wanted to scare her.

Y/N pulled a sweet bun out of her bag and the clones mouth watered. He hadn't had anything like that in years.

Gently, he took the food from the woman, avoiding brushing his calloused, dirty fingers against her clean, soft ones.

she once again gave him, what was now, his favorite smile and was just about to leave, when they heard someone shout.

"HEY, Y/N!"

Y/N grimaced. It was the sleezebag that frequented her work.

In a moment of weakness and loneliness she had taken him up his offer to com each other, and now he wont leave her alone.

The clone clocked in on her uncomfortable, nearly panicked expression, his eyes as sharp and observant as they had been years ago.

"I'm sorry about this" she hurriedly blurted out. He said nothing, just stared at her.

Suddenly she ducked down behind him, pressing her front into his back and bowing her head down to lean against one of his shoulders, face hidden.

She didn't notice the look of shock that came cross the clones face.

Recovering, he quickly handed her the ratty blanket he used at night to cover herself with. She didn't seem to notice the smell of the unwashed fabric, too busy trying to not be seen by the owner of the voice.

The Veteran saw who had to be the owner of the voice. A tall, lanky boy with greasy hair and five day patchy stubble. He shoved people out of the way, sneering at him when he met the veterans sharp gaze.

The clone could sense his superiority complex a mile off.

Not seeing anything here worth his time, the man slunk away into the crowd.

Waiting a minute or two to make sure the sleezebag was gone, and to selfishly indulge in the closeness of a woman he had been pining for, the Veteran gently nudged the ball of nerves tucked up on his shoulder.

For the first time, he found his voice for her.

"Its alright, little one. He's gone."

The mans voice was rough from disuse, but Y/N still thought it was comforting nonetheless.

To the clones absolute amazement, the woman didn't move immediately.

"Are you sure?" Her voice sounded so small and tired. He ached to sooth her.

Pulling up some courage he didn't know he had, the clone gently pressed the side of his face against the top of her head, noting how perfectly they seemed to fit together.

How good it felt.

Y/N whined, she brought her hand up to rest under her forehead, laying it palm down on his shoulder piece.

"I hate that guy."

The clone could see why. He went to say something, to reassure her, gently rubbing his cheek against her hair in a light nuzzle.

Suddenly the woman jerked up, her head leaving his shoulder and her body jumping back from his.

The clones blood ran cold. He had crossed the line, now he'd never see her again.

"I-"

"I am so sorry, I didn't mean to. To..." Y/N cut him off, gesturing wildly at him, as he stared in amazement at her.

Was she apologizing, to him?

Y/N finally managed to get herself together enough to articulate what it was she was apologizing for.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten all up in your space like that, I just... It was the first thing that came to mind and I... I'll just go" She ducked her head, a furious blush rushing across her face at her babbled apology to the man.

Swiftly, the veteran reached out to his jumpy love, lightly taking her wrist and rubbing his thumb against the soft skin there. It was an unfamiliar gesture now, but it seemed to do the trick.

She let the veteran pull her back down and she just bared her soul to him right there in the street. Breaking down as he slowly and gently pulled her into his side, rubbing her back as she wept.

It turns out the poor, sweet woman had been harrased and stalked by the scumbag for weeks. He would com at all times of the day and come into her workplace any time she was on shift, her boss having given up her schedule in exchange for a few credits.

Y/N hiccupped s she explained that she had tried to get help, but "This was Daiu, that's just how things are here"

He was the reason they closed early. Apparently he had cussed out the wrong staff member and there was an all out fist fight. The boss closed when the property started getting damaged.

Her story made the clones blood boil. All this time he had been imagining them together and happy, while she had been in danger? Unacceptable.

When the woman stopped crying, her eyes red and itchy, she peeled herself away from the safety of the clones warmth.

The veteran mourned the fact that she was distancing herself. He also cursed his armor for preventing him form truly feeling her softness.

Y/N sniffed and rubbed her eyes, mumbling that she was going to go home now, before stumbling off.

The clones eyes followed her. Keen and concerned they watched her round the corner.

Tonight, he was going to be what he never thought he'd be again. He would be the hero, for his sweet Y/N.

The veteran picked up his old helmet, putting it on for the first time in a decade.

Time for one last hunt.

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Things had been looking up for Y/N.

After the incident with the clone she went home and decided to look for other employment options.

She found an opening in a slightly less shady part of town as a cleaner for a speeder saleroom. A job where her pay didn't depend on the whims of horny incels, and so far, she was loving it.

There were no customers to deal with and she was mostly left alone to do her work.

And, more importantly, her stalker had seemingly disappeared off the face of the planet.

The drawbacks were that she had to start and finish later than what was usually considered safe on Daiu, but she wasn't too concerned. There was always someone out and about and the nightlife in her area ensured that her way home was always lit.

Then there was her friend.

Y/N still didn't know his name, he never offered it, if he had one at all.

He was always there, looking out for her. watching after her with his deep, intelligent and sharp gaze.

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

The first time she saw him in his different spot had been not much longer after she started at her new job.

The weather had just started to turn. Daiu winters could be bitter even in their earliest stages and that night there was a raging wind with the promise of an even worse storm.

Y/N was currently moving at a fast clip, trying to beat the weather home when she saw her friend. stopping she did a double take to make sure it was him, although she hadn't seen any other clone on Daiu before.

He was hunkered down in an alcove between two buildings, protected from the wind in front of him and he rain from above.

Quickly she ducked into the alley, ignoring the stares of the other homeless as she crouched before him.

"Y/N" he said, looking up to her in greeting and concern.

What was she doing down here?

"Hi. Thought that was you"

He tilted his head, his eyes trained on her as she tried to piece together why she was in the alleyway.

"You here because of the weather?" she asked

The veteran nodded. He still wasn't a man of many words, preferring to communicate with her through gestures.

It was difficult enough to get him to call her by her name.

"Okay, stay here, I'll be back"

Y/N cringed at herself.

'Stay here?' As if he'd be stupid enough to wander out into the weather.

Unlike her, it would seem.

The veteran sent her a look that screamed 'Don't be stupid, stay at home', but Y/N missed it.

She stood up and trotted back out into the wind, catching a heavy gust to the face.

The clone watched her leave, admiring how her winter clothes hugged her generous figure.

Too soon, she was out of sight but the veteran was on edge.

Y/N said she was coming back, but it was already dark, the weather was setting in.

Doesn't she realize its dangerous for her out here.

Apparently not.

Y/N rounded the corner to the alleyway a few minutes later with a backpack and a pile of fabric in her arms.

Him and the three other homeless looked up.

She once again crouched down in front of him, handing him what turned out to be a rough, robust and warm looking blanket.

"It's not much, but I noticed that your old one wasn't looking too good a while back so..." She bashfully rubbed the back of her neck, not quite meeting his eye.

The veteran on the other hand, couldn't look away.

'Kriff, she's too good for this place. too good for me.' he thought. She then took off her bag and pulled out some food.

The veteran thought he would cry. No one had taken care of him like this in a long, long time.

He then noticed that her bag wasn't empty, and that there were more blankets under her arm.

She smiled sweetly at him. A rosy, chubby cheeked expression that never failed to warm his heart and make it long like nothing else.

She stood up and walked over to his three 'companions'. Other homeless people seeking shelter in the same alleyway as him.

For the two other men and one woman she had a blanket and some food. They took the offered gifts with various thanks.

"Your too kind child, thank you!" He heard the elderly Pantoran say as he wrapped himself in his new blanket.

"Thank you, sweet thing, but you shouldn't be out this late." The woman said, taking her food with cold, shaking fingers.

The third man looked at her, taking the blanket and food silently.

The veteran was weary. He had bunked with this man before and while not overly dangerous, he was usually in a foul mood, and wanted to be left alone.

The man accepted the items from his sweet Y/N and she had seemingly picked up on his want to be alone so she went to move on when he grabbed her wrist.

The startled sound she made had the veteran jumping himself, ready to kick him of of her if need be.

"You shouldn't be out here, little lady. These streets aint safe." his words were rough and condescending, but his face showed thanks.

Y/N nodded and the man let her go. The veteran relaxed.

He watched as his darling went to exit the alleyway, reaching out to him in a small wave goodbye.

The clone liked to think she was reaching out to take his hand, and to be taken into his arms.

Y/N had just turned the corner when the first crack of thunder rang out. The clone heard the rain start to come down with fury and he was suddenly very concerned for his sweet girl.

He didn't have to worry for long though, she came bolting back around the corner, backpack over her head as she slid to a stop in front of him.

He looked at her, questioningly. Surly she wasn't afraid of the rain, was she?

Y/N shook her backpack out.

"It's, uh, its hailing, not raining." she explained. He saw the golf ball sized spike drop from her back pack. Poor thing nearly got hit.

"Can I, well, can I wait out the storm here, with you?"

The veterans heart was beating a mile a minute.

She came back to him, TO HIM. She sought comfort and protection from him.

He shakily reached out to her, inviting her to come sit down next to him. She did, snuggling up to his side to escape the cold.

The veteran wrapped his arm around her, grateful that he had managed to grab a quick shower at a speeder stop earlier.

The lovely, soft woman snuggled into his side, burying her face in his shoulder under the blanket and muttered out a thanks.

"Your welcome, sweet thing." He muttered back, leaning his head on hers.

His mind was going a mile a minute, his thoughts a whirlwind of love and devotion.

'That's it, pretty, you just burrow in next to me I'll keep you warm. Kriff, you're shivering, lemme just, uh, there we go, all better now.

I'll always help you, sweet Y/N, you can have any part of me you want. I'll hold you through any storm ever, you just say the word, my love.'

They shuffled around a bit to find the best position. She ended up sitting between his legs, her back to his chest and cradled close by both his arms and his thighs.

The clone was glad he had chosen to keep the lower part of his armor on that night. Not only was he actually able to feel his woman's luxurious softness and gentle warmth against his chest and in his arms, but she also couldn't feel the erection that definitely would have been straining against her round ass, branding her with its heat.

That train of thought led him back into his imagination, as the clone wrapped himself and his darling in the large blanket. His arms tightened around her as his head came down to rest on top of hers.

He imagined them in a different place. A cozy, warmly lit bedroom.

It was still hailing and storming but they were safe inside, snuggled together on the bed under a mountain of blankets. Her naked body would be relaxed and pliant, his woman so willing and wanting and trusting as she leaned back into him, mewling as he rubbed his aching need up and down her flushed womanhood.

He'd kiss and smooch at her eyes, cheeks and nose, his hands lightly massaging at the lovely rolls on her side as she sweetly mewled and whined.

He'd shush her and nuzzle into the side of her face as he slowly slipped his cock in, not moving too much, just holding her as she kept his cock warm. The two would bask in each other. Her feeling him in the most intimate and loving of ways. They'd stay like that for hours, listening to the strong winds outside, loving up on each other and he'd hold her close.

The clone could almost cum in his pants at that mental image alone. However he was all too aware of where he was. This was not a soft apartment, and the two were not in a loving embrace.

She was here out of necessity, nothing more.

That didn't stop him from gently nuzzling into her hair as he brought his legs up, cocooning her in his warmth and protection.

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It had been a week since that night.

Y/N woke up in the veterans arms. she must have fallen asleep waiting for it to stop hailing and they somehow managed to shuffle even closer to each other, not an inch of space between them.

She had blushed furiously when he woke, his eyes bleary and tired, before snapping to awareness at how they were intertwined, an uncomfortable tightness in his groin making itself known. He hoped he hadn't rutted against her in his sleep.

Despite the awkward situation, both of them were unwilling to pull away, Y/N finally having to peel herself off him to go get ready for work.

The clone mourned her warmth after she left.

Y/N still blushed at the feeling of the man wrapped around him.

She had definitely felt how strong he was, despite him being homeless. It seemed he never really lost the broad, chunkiness all clones seemed to have during the war.

Her mind would often drift while cleaning. Trying to figure out what he would look like under the armor and thick body suit. Would he be unhealthily thin and sunken, or would he still, somehow have that tank like build.

She remembered learning about how the clones' metabolism was sped up, that they could develop and grow a lot of muscle if they had enough food to do so.

So it would be Y/N's best guess that while he may not have his old strength, he might still be big and soft. Perfect to cuddle on.

She had certainly felt comfortable leaning against him.

Y/N was well aware of this little crush her attachment was turning into.

she wasn't sure if she should acknowledge it or not. On the one hand, he was homeless. On the other hand, that didn't make him any less human, didn't mean he was any less deserving of companionship.

She just couldn't get a good read on him, or if he'd reciprocate, or even react positively to her affection.

then one night, she had been walking home, expecting to see her clone friend with the other homeless in their winter spot. except when she got there, there were police and a body being carted in a bag. She couldn't see any of the other homeless there.

Starting to panic she looked around.

Fuck, she couldn't even call out to him. She didn't have a name to call.

Y/N just kept turning and wondering around, desperately looking for any sign of the white and blue armor.

She was panicking. Her friend could be dead and there was no way to find out. none of the people on the street cared to look at the homeless too much so they wouldn't recognize him, even though he had been a regular in that area for nearly ten years now.

Her breathing was shaking and her eyes were so blurred up with unshed tears that she didn't realize the man she was looking for was approaching her.

The veteran gently placed a hand on her shoulder when she didnt respond to her name, startling Y/N.

Seeing who it was, that her friend was alive, Y/N threw herself around him in relief.

Shocked, the clone hugged her back. Noticing for the first time how small she felt compared to his tall standing frame.

Y/N had had enough.

She had left her friend out on the street for far too long. It could be him in a body bag next.

Sniffling she pulled away slightly, the clone tenderly brushed some hair away that was stuck to her face.

"Please come home with me. You can live there." She asked simply.

The veteran was floored. Never in a million years did he think she would want him to come with her. To live with the love of his life seemed like a faraway dream. He would have sworn that he was asleep and he'd wake up any moment.

But the clone was very much awake. The biting wind making Y/N grimace and shiver was proof.

Tucking his love back into his chest, he whispered a shaky 'Okay' into her hair.

she took his arm and led him down the street and to her apartment complex. It wasn't the nicest of places, but it was far more secure than what he would've expected form this area.

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

her home was cozy, like he imagined it would be. it was a small studio/one bed setup, with the bedroom area being lofted an the living space being one big, open plan area with a door that he assumes, led to the fresher.

It wasn't big or luxurious but it was hers, her home.

She made it beautiful.

With her here he couldn't see the ugly building across the street, its neon lights blaring obnoxiously into her kitchen. He couldn't hear the sounds of sirens and yelling from outside the street. He was too caught up with the sense of being in a place that was soft and gentle and comfortable and just so, Y/N.

She was flicking around, picking up bits and pieces and throwing them into random corners to be dealt with later.

As she moved she was babbling out to him. Her voice like a sweet birds.

"I't's not much, but its a roof, four walls and some actually pretty decent locks. Freshers through that door, there's a washer dryer that you can use in there as well.

You'll have to wash and reuse what you've got on until we can figure something out, get you some new clothes. Speaking of figuring out, I only have one bed. ummm, you can sleep on the couch, but its not very nice, fair warning. But, Uhh", she looked embarrassed, red, at what she was about to suggest, "I wouldn't mind sharing the bed, it should be big enough so there would be plenty of space between us and, uh, yeah... I mean, if you want to. If you dont that's fine too"

He knew he should have taken the couch, but he was weak. Years of loneliness had worn him down, and the thought of his love being so close, yet so far, when he had the option to be up in bed, snuggling under the covers with her, pained him.

"If your comfortable with it, I'll sleep in the bed"

she seemed to light up at that. He hadn't turned her down at her somewhat ridiculous idea. then again, she had just brought him home off the streets so maybe it wasn't so ridiculous after all.

"Cool. Yeah, so I'll, um, I'll let you get cleaned up. Here's a towel, and feel free to use anything in there, and just throw your clothes in the wash while in the shower."

she handed him a large fluffy white towel. The veteran couldn't remember the last time he held something so soft, that wasn't his love.

"And don't worry about being too long. For all this place skimps on costs, they are surprisingly generous with their water and heating. So take all the time you need."

The veteran nodded. Somewhat awkwardly. This was all so new to him and he wasn't so sure how he should be acting. But if his discomfort was perceivable, his darling wasn't letting on.

"I'll be in the kitchen. Give a shout if you need anything." With that she left him to his own devices. He entered the fresher and looked around. It was small, but functional. Like the rest of the apartment Y/N had taken it upon herself to make it more homey.

He could get used to this place.

The Clone stripped down, throwing his thin, ragged blacks into the wash and setting it to a short wash/dry cycle. Turning to the shower he turned the hot water on. It was an old water shower/bath combination and he hoped he could use the bath later on, maybe with his love in with him.

Ignoring his cock twitching at the though of them sharing the bath, the veteran observed himself in the mirror as he waited for the water to heat up. It was a reflection he hadn't seen in a longtime.

He was older now, and it showed. His face was lined, his hair greying. His body looked somehow thin and full. Weak and strong. He supposed a constantly changing state of health would do that.

There were times when he was able to get some sort of seasonal help job, working in factories and the like. These were the times when he could eat properly, and that led to his muscle mass being somewhat restored by the manual labour.

Then there were times when he had to beg and scrape for food, desperate for a bite to eat.

The mirror had fogged up now. The clone tested the water and it was boiling hot against his skin. Adjusting the heat so it was a comfortable temperature, the man stepped under the spray.

The sound he made as the water cascaded over his aching body surprised even him. A long, loud and low groan escaped his lips as the spray soothed his muscles and washed away days worth of grime. It felt like bliss to him.

He was going to take his time with this one. Usually the veteran had to get in and out of an icy weak shower in less than two minutes, leaving him barley any time to just roughly scrub his skin with whatever soap he managed to acquire.

But now, he could go slowly. Enjoy himself.

He started by browsing the soaps and shampoos Y/N kept. Smelling the scent of each one. They were all feminine, divine, HER.

He had no issue at all using them. Being able to smell like his love, a constant reminder of her, invisible on his skin, sounded like heaven on earth to the clone.

He started with his hair, lathering a generous amount of the sweet smelling shampoo into his long locks and, seeing no other option, into his beard as well.

He knew they were matted. Maybe he could ask Y/N for some help with brushing and shaving later, looking forward to the possibility of having her hands all over his face and through his hair.

Next, he moved onto his skin. Her body wash had a sweet vanilla smell to it, not too strong. The Veteran saw a clean washcloth on a shelf next to the bath, and reached out for it. He'd clean the water that dripped from his arm later.

The clone shut his eyes in pleasure as he ran the body wash over his skin, rubbing away the sweat dirt and grime. For the first time since he could remember, he didn't smell foul. It seemed like such a luxury to him, and he had to remind himself that he lived here now. His love had said so. He could indulge in this every day.

The thought made him feel bubby inside.

Opening his eyes after rinsing off all the soap, he took a look down at his own body.

He had gained some weight over the last few weeks, having managed to swing a help job at a somewhat shady junk yard. The result was that he was stronger and fuller now, having had constant meals.

This pleased him. Seeing some colour in his skin, seeing some chub around his belly and thighs and arms pleased him.

Idly reaching up to his chest, he groped at his pecs. They weren't as strong as they used to be during the war, but they were far from flat or weak.

The man continued to feel himself up, admiring how he was looking pretty good, despite the circumstances. He went to move his hands lower, run them up and down his torso, when they brushed past his nipples. He sucked in a breath. The man hadn't had the privacy to do this since before the war ended and he was extremely sensitive to any stimulation.

Gently, he circled his nipples with calloused fingers, blood pumping to his cock.

The clone imagined his love in here with him. On her knees, laving his lower belly and the tops of his thighs with little kitten licks and kisses.

The veteran ran his hands up and down his tummy and waist, groping and massaging at his own flesh, trying to convince himself that it was his loves soft hands playing with him, feeling him up.

Finally, he brought a calloused palm up to his mouth and licked a stripe up it. This was not something he had indulged in for a while, and he knew it wouldn't take long.

He had to take the edge off of his pleasure, or he would explode.

Softly, he took his hardening cock in his hand, lightly cupping his balls with the other one, feeling them draw up slightly at his touch.

He slowly started to jerk his cock, smearing pre-come along the shaft as it started to drip from the spongy head.

Already the veteran could feel his pleasure building. The heat in his stomach growing as he saw his darling Y/N, mouth lovingly caressing his need, one soft warm hand tending to him, while the other one played with her glistening pussy, swollen and flushed with her own arousal.

The veteran grunted as he imagined her whining and sighing, content to play with him and bring him to his peak.

Suddenly, he felt a jolt of pleasure run down his spine. He sighed as white, thick pearls of cum dribbled out from his cock, the head hypersensitive to his touch as he worked himself through his orgasm.

It wasn't the most intense one he'd had. But it didn't matter, he could now walk out of the fresher without worrying about scaring his love off because of his unquenchable attraction to her.

The veteran stepped out of the shower after cleaning himself up, running the towel over his face and body before wrapping it around his waist.

He saw that his clothes still had some time left on the dry cycle so he decided that he'd look for a toothbrush to use, he was sure she wouldn't mind.

Finding a spare in the draw the clone cleaned his teeth, contemplating how the hell he was going to fix his hair up. The beard had to go as well. It was itchy and too long for him, his maximum length used to be no more than a few days growth.

He always though he looked good with some stubble.

As for his hair, if it could be brushed out, maybe he'd keep it long. if not, that had to go too.

Spitting out the toothpaste, the veteran heard the dryer beep, signaling that his clothes were done. He wiped his mouth and dropped his towel, using it to mop up any spare water on the floor.

Grabbing his old bodysuit out he took a moment to rub his face into the fabric. it smelt clean, and felt warm and welcoming.

Was everything about Y/N's home like that, or was he just incapable of seeing anything bad where she was concerned?

The man dressed and exited the bathroom, and was met with a delicious smell.

"You didn't take too long, did you?" Y/N chirped at him, putting a lid on something.

"I know its early, but I figured you'd be hungry so I just made some pasta. It's almost ready"

Not knowing what else to do, the clone sat on the couch. There was no table, the space wasn't big enough for that but there was a coffee table that substituted.

After a few minutes of watching Y/N work with a practiced ease, she came over to him, two plates in her hands. Handing one over to him she plopped down on the squishy couch next to him, digging into her food with gusto.

He smirked slightly. She obviously enjoyed her meal, and he found out why.

It was delicious. simple and filling and comforting.

He enjoyed every bite, hiccupping from the speed that he ate. she pushed her plate to the side, taking his with it, then reached up, hovering a hand over his head. He lowered his face and leaned towards her, giving the green light to touch him.

Y/N ran a hand through his hair and he whimpered, it felt so good.

The woman pretended not to hear but her slight hesitation gave her away. She cleared her throat.

"Ah, I think we should do something about your hair. Do you need any help, or would you just prefer to get rid of it and uh, start again"

The thought of having some more of her touching and scratching at his scalp pushed any idea that he might've had of shaving his hair away.

"I'd like to try and save it, if that's okay."

"I'll do my best"

Having a task, a mission in front of her, YN was able to clear her mind, immediately coming up with a list of things she would need.

"yeah, that should be fine. I'll just grab a couple of towels and some other things from the bathroom and we can get started."

The clone watched as his beautiful Y/N trotted off into the bathroom, admiring the way he body jiggled when she walked.

When she came back out again she had her hands full of towels, with various brushes and bottles on top, as well as some hair ties around he wrist.

Dumping the items on the end of the couch, Y/N cleared away the plates quickly, making room for her to work. When she came back she gestured for the clone to stand up, and placed various towels over the couch to protect it from whatever she was about to put in his hair.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't slightly nervous.

"You can sit back down now, face the window, and I'll sit behind you" she said as she pulled up a stool to the arm rest.

The clone got as comfortable as he could at this angle, sighing when Y/N started to spray something onto the ends of his hair and gently begin to work a comb through it.

"By the way, this is going to sound stupid but, I never got your name." she spoke quietly, soothingly.

The clone backed his head up into her hands, immensely enjoying her care.

"Never took one" he stated simply.

The veteran wished he still had the social grace to answer in more than five words, but he just couldn't do that yet. It was like a muscle that had been frozen for a long time. He would need work to function properly again.

"You've never had a name?" Y/N asked, sounding surprised and sad.

He didn't mean to upset her so he tried to explain.

"I, ahem, never found the right one. Non seemed to fit"

That was good. A full sentence.

"That's, kind of sad. I'm not going to lie. All this time, and you never found any name that fits. At all? No nickname or anything to go by?"

The clone swallowed. she had unknowing touched a nerve.

"My brothers...They tried. Nothing stuck"

"Brothers...?"

"Other clones"

"I see. I'm sorry"

He was glad to be facing away from her. Touched bye the sincerity of her words, his eyes had actually started to fog up.

The veteran sniffed.

"Don't be. it was a long time ago"

Y/N was well aware of what the clones went through after the war. forced to exterminate the people they were bred to protect, than cast out alone into the galaxy without so much as human rights. And to think her poor friend didn't even have a name to call his own. Only the old, battered armor that was neatly piled in the corner of the room.

"You could choose one. It doesn't have to be now but, uh, can I be honest?"

The clone turned his head slightly, a little unsure of where this was going but he grunted his consent anyway.

"I was, scared, earlier. You weren't there, the others weren't there, just the cops and a body bag. I couldn't even call out to you. There wasn't anything for me to call. I don't mean to seem selfish, but please don't make me do that again. It, I don't know. It hurt, I guess. I thought you had died"

Her hands were steady, but her voice broke slightly. She truly did worry for him. The thought warmed his heart, and saddened him at the pain he caused, accidentally or otherwise.

The clone took Y/N's hand, placing a kiss on her palm. he heard her sharp intake of breath as he pressed her hand to his bearded cheek.

"I'm sorry, mesh'la. I never wanted to hurt you."

His sweet Y/N didn't say anything. she had nothing to say, so instead she dropped her head down on top of his, pressing into his hair for a moment before straightening up again, bringing the comb back to his head.

She had made it about halfway up. The tangled matts of his hair were lovingly worked out with patience, and they revealed soft, silky and slightly frizzy hair. Y/N suspected a curl pattern.

"Help me pick one?"

"What?" Y/N responded, confused.

"Help me pick a name. I cant think of any."

"Are you sure, its not too personal?"

"There's no one else I'd have pick one out"

Y/N was touched.

she struggled to think of any that may fit. after some umm'ing and ahh'ing, she threw a few suggestions out at him.

"Hmm, what about...Hail?"

"Hail?" he responded. Less than enthusiastic.

"I guess not. Torrent?"

The clone stiffened at that suggestion. Y/N decided not to bring that idea up again.

"What about you. Any ideas?"

"I think, I want an actual name. Not a thing. I was always called a thing. It's why they didn't give us names..."

If that didn't make Y/N want to cry and fight at the same time...

"Real names. Got it. Uhh, Mathew?"

"Eh"

"Ok, Andrew?"

"Nah"

"Ooh, what about Cody?"

"Absolutely not."

He seemed especially against that suggestion. Another thing Y/N would steer clear of.

"I have one more idea. How do you feel about Gabriel?"

"Gabriel?" He seemed a lot warmer to that suggestion than the others.

"Sure, why not. I think it suits you"

The veteran was a little choked up.

A name. An actual name. One that she chose for him. He liked it. It was, strong, pretty and had a nice ring.

"I think...I could be Gabriel. Yeah. I'll be Gabriel"

"Well then, Gabriel, it's good to finally meet you." Y/N greeted him, the first one to use his new name.

Gabriel felt like he could be a new man, now.

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

Afternoon turned into evening quicker than they thought it would. Y/N had managed to untangle Gabriel's matted locks, brushing them out and running some oil through them while giving him a scalp massage.

He tried to tell her she didn't need to do that, but then Y/N hit a good spot, just behind his ear and he groaned and melted, relishing in his darlings sweet giggle.

She was done with his hair too soon for Gabriel's liking though, so he asked her to help him with his beard.

"I want it gone, if you can" he had instructed. Y/N couldn't blame him. It must've felt uncomfortable.

So, once again going into the bathroom and coming back out, Y/N started to trim Gabriel's beard.

He took in her look of concentration, her steady hand and the fact she seemed very comfortable with her task.

"You've done this before?" He asked as she pulled away for a second, checking the length and finding it short enough for a razor.

"Don't move. I don't wanna nick you. And I do. I... I had brothers, once. Same as you"

He understood her meaning. All to familiar with the feeling of loss and emptiness and of something missing that never goes away.

"What happened?"

Y/N took out a straight razor.

“A home invasion. My family owned a house on the other side of Daiu. It apparently had gotten out that my father had some sort of Stache in his house. Jewels or cash or beskar. Something stupid like that,"

She took the razor to the top of his beard, carefully working in the same direction that it grew. Her hands steady, but her voice was once again breaking.

"My mother and I, we were out at the time. It was just my brothers and father. They tried to defend what little we had but they were gunned down anyway. They should have just let the thieves look. We had nothing of value.

That was 3 years ago now, my mother drank herself to death a few months later. It's been just me, ever since."

Gabriel didn't know what to say. He couldn't have imagined that this precious girl, working so sweetly and gently on his face could have such a bloody history.

"I'm sorry, little one."

Y/N pulled away. Wiping the razor off on a towel and trying to discretely wipe a tear away.

"It's okay. It is very sad, but, it's in the past now."

She went back to work on the other side of his face.

"Besides. It's not all bad. I've met you haven't I?"

"I don't think many would consider that a positive" he answered flatly.

Y/N, who had finished his beard and was now wiping his face, looked Gabriel in his eyes.

"I do" she simply stated. So sure and genuine.

Gabriel couldn't help himself.

She was so close. Her lips looked so soft, and for the first time in over a decade, he went in for a kiss.

It was clumsy and quick, but sweet. However, Y/N was so shocked she didn't respond.

Gabriel pulled away quickly, as if burnt.

'What am I doing?' He thought, disgusted with himself.

He couldn't stay in the same room as her, not right now.

With no pride left to spare he rushed to the bathroom, locking the door and sliding down against it, pulling his knees to his chest.

'I've ruined it. I was so close and I ruined it. She probably doesn't want me like that, she probably wants me gone now.'

His thoughts spiraled out of control as he heaved and panicked alone in the bathroom.

On the other side of the door, Y/N was getting herself together.

She wasn't expecting the kiss, but she was happy to know he felt something for her after all.

That made his rushed exit hurt more. She didn't want him to be scared to love her. So, gathering herself, she went and knocked on the fresher.

She didn't know if it was locked or not but Y/N wanted Gabriel to let her in, willingly.

There was no answer. She knocked again.

"Gabriel? Please open the door. I'm not mad at you, I promise. I was just surprised."

Gabriel heard her sweet call cut through his panic attack. He wanted to move but couldn’t bring himself to.

So he sat there, and answered.

"I...cant. Not yet. Please, Y/N, I'm sorry. I, I was...I'm sorry."

Gabriel could only apologize. His broken voice was small and scared and it broke Y/N.

"Don't apologize Gabriel. There’s nothing to be sorry for. I...I actually liked the kiss. I just, didn't think you’d want, well, me. Not like that”

Her gentle voice was starting to lull Gabriel out of his frozen state. His limbs uncurling and his head leaning back against the door.

it was a few moments before she heard him answer her.

"You... I can still stay here, with you? You still want me?'

He needed to hear it. He needed her to say that she wanted him to stay with her.

"Yes. I want you Gabriel. I want you in my home and my life."

"Say that again, please?"

"I want you to stay here with me, Gabriel. In whatever sense you want. Whatever your willing to give, I'll take."

Gabriel did a double take.

"What are you saying?"

He understood her words, but couldn't process their meanings. She couldn't be saying what he thought she was saying, could she?

He dared to hope a little.

"Open the door, please. Let me in and I'll tell you everything...show you everything, if you want"

Gabriel didn't know if he groaned or sobbed.

"Yes. Yes, please Y/N. Please"

"Open the door, my love"

Y/N had her forehead leaning against the entrance, her hand over the panel. It seemed like an eternity before she felt the tell tale shudder before it slid open, revealing one very distraught clone trooper.

She reached out to cup his face, his eyes reluctant to meet hers for fear she'd see the pain and shame and love in them. Love for her.

"Oh, Gabriel. I could never want you to leave." Y/N wiped a stray tear away.

"For as long as you want, you have a home here with me. I'm my house, in my arms, my bed and my heart, if that's what you want. It’s yours. Just say the word"

Gabriel was crying in earnest now. She, did she love him?

He brought her in close. He plush, warm body like a safety blanket to him. Comforting and real. Gabriel buried his face onto Y/N's shoulder and sobbed.

"I...Y/N. My sweet, beautiful Y/N. I think your the love of my life"

He managed to gasp out, into her sweet smelling hair.

Gabriel felt the comforting action of Y/N's fingers massaging his scalp, and he nearly purred at the gesture.

"I am yours, Gabriel. Have been for quite a while." She pulled back from him. Gabriel tried to crowd into her again, not liking the distance but Y/N had other plans.

"Come to bed with me?"

He almost choked.

"Yes. Yes, please. I need this - you- so badly. Please"

"Sweet gods, you must've been so lonely all those years, you poor man. Come on, come to bed. Let me make love to you, my Gabriel"

Y/N had no idea where this confidence was coming from. She was neither the most confident or the most experienced. But this man, this beautiful man made her want to bring him so much pleasure and love that he never thinks about his hardships again.

Y/N took his hand, and led him up to her lofted bedroom. It wasn't big, but the huge window reached above the ugly neon lights, illuminating the room in a golden glow.

It hit Gabriel's face and Y/N sucked in a gasp.

"What's wrong?" He asked, spooked.

"Nothing, it's just, your so pretty!"

He whimpered.

"That's right, you! Your such a pretty, beautiful man that I'm going to take to bed, okay? You just tell me what you like and don't like, yeah?"

Y/N started to undress him, sliding the top of his undershirt up past his stomach and chest slowly. She felt the muscle and the fat there, playing with the sweet rolls at his sides, running her fingers through the salt and pepper hair on his broad chest, scratching lightly at his skin.

The man was panting by now, longing and pain screwed his face up and Y/N could tell this was an extremely emotional and vulnerable moment for him.

"It's okay to cry, my love. I'll hold you. We don't have to do anything if that makes you feel better" she explained, understandingly.

"No! I want this, I want this so bad it hurts. It all hurts I just...I need to feel it, feel you"

He didn't know how to explain it to her. He wanted her to love him while he cried onto her shoulder.

He wanted to feel her riding him, warm and wet and soft, while he shed tears of grief and love.

He felt so much, he wanted to explode, and he wanted to do it with Y/N, surrounded by her presence and her body.

He felt so safe with her here. It wasn't something he'd felt before, ever.

Y/N, amazing that she was, nodded understandingly.

"Alright, Gabriel. You do that. You cry and grieve as much as you want. I'll love you for as long as it takes." She pulled away, stepping back.

"I'm going to undress now. Then I'm going to go and sit on the bed. I want you to climb on top, into my lap okay? Trust me on this."

How could he not. She had every part of him. Mind, body and soul.

Gabriel tried not to stare. He REALLY tried. But he failed, openly gazing at his love as she stripped down to nothing. Bare and beautiful in the winters evening sun.

She was curvaceous, and lush and luxurious looking, her body straight out of his most beautiful dreams, stretchmarks and all.

She walked past him to the bed. Gabriel thought he'd pass out after seeing her naked ass and thighs jiggle.

She got herself comfortable, stacking pillows behind her and motioned for Gabriel to join her.

Swiftly, he discarded the rest of his clothing, his straining need bouncing out of confinement and twitching at the object of all his desired being right there, right there in front of him. Willing and lovingly enthusiastic.

Y/N reached a hand out to him, guiding him to sit in her lap.

The lotus flower position, he vaguely recalled. His brothers who had been smitten by their bed partners had said it was a religious experiance for them. He didnt understand then.

He does now.

He let Y/N settle him down. Rubbing and massaging and playing his body like they were always meant to end up here.

she messed around with the drawer in her bedside table, pulling out a bottle and squirting some of its contents into her palm.

Gabriel whined when sweet Y/N brought her lube slicked hand down to feel him up.

"Ooh, you're so big, so ready. Your perfect for me. Your such a good, strong man" she sighed out.

Y/N felt so good, even just her hand was so much more incredible than what he could have imagined.

Working his cock tenderly, she smeared pre come from the head around his shaft, and reached down to fondle his balls, when she spoke.

"Are you...when was the last time you were checked? Do you have an implant, or..."

He groaned, having forgotten about that.

"I'm sorry. I'm clean, clones dont get STD's, but I had to have my implant taken out years ago..."

He buried his face back into Y/N's neck, lightly nipping and licking at the skin there, trying to dedicate her taste to his memories.

"Shhh, shhhh. That's okay sweet boy. Your still doing so well. Your so good being honest with me, yeah. I have the implant, so I'm confident in our safety, but if you want, I have condoms we can use."

Gabriel could understand her wanting to ensure both their safety, but the thought of her potentially round with his child, glowing with new life, lit a spark he didnt know he still had.

"That's okay, Y/N I... I dont mind. I actually, well... never mind that now"

Y/N rubbed the clones back soothingly, running her free hand down and squeezing his ass to pull him further into her, while the other one still caressed his weeping, angry cock.

"There’s more, isnt there? You dont have to be frightened or ashamed, I'm right here for you."

"I... I couldn't help it. You were talking about being safe then I just saw you, pregnant with my baby and...you were just so pretty, so perfect and glowy. Y/N please, I'd never force that on you, I mean it"

"Hmm, good boy. It's alright. I'm not mad. Who knows, maybe one day there will be a little me and you running around," the clones shoulders shook, Y/N felt the first of his tears hit her shoulder.

"There you go, that's right, let it out. Maybe one day. But for now, let's just focus on making you feel better. Why dont we start here."

She let go of Gabriel's cock and brought her hand to her opening. It was soaked. Aching and swollen and so ready for his love.

She slicked up Gabriel's cock with some of her own juices, lining his head up with her hole.

"You gotta go slow for me, okay? Be gentle. It’s, been a while"

He nodded in her shoulder, silent tears still streaming down her back.

Gently, so so gently, he started to push in, his breath coming out in ragged puffs against Y/N's back, while she whimpered at the stretch of him filling her.

They performed this slow, sensual dance for what seemed like an eternity.

The gentle push and pull of Gabriel's body as he slipped his cock into Y/N, inch by inch, made time speed up and freeze all at once for both of them.

Finally, he bottomed out. Gabriel had completly buried himself in the woman of his dreams, his balls resting against her ass as she leaned back, adjusting to his full size.

They sat there for a while. Gabriel inside Y/N, his legs wrapped around her hips, his arms encircling her shoulders, pressing her to him.

Eventually, Y/N started to rock him. Not only encouraging him to move his hips, but rocking his upper torso back and forth, guiding him to his completion while providing a soothing gesture for him to lean into.

He came in her, coating Y/N with his love as he groaned and whined and babbled his devotion into Y/N's tear stained shoulder.

Y/N held him through his orgasm. rubbing his shaking shoulders and legs. shushing and humming as his breath jumped and he whimpered out his pleasure.

"Good job. You did so well for me. Shh, shhh. It's okay, you beautiful sweet man. I love you. I love you so much Gabriel"

Y/N kissed her lovers shoulder and neck, pressing her cheek into the top of his head when he pulled away, cupping her face and bringing it in for a nuzzle before pressing his forehead against hers.

It was an incredibly sweet and tender gesture, Y/N thought she was going to melt when he spoke up.

"Did you cum too?" he asked, his voice small and shy.

Y/N shook her head. An understanding smile on her face.

"Not this time, beautiful. This was about you, not me.

Gabriel wouldn't take that for an answer.

Slowly, he slipped his cock out of Y/N, wincing as she hissed.

He gave her a loving kiss before going down on his knees on the floor, bringing the flushed woman to the edge of the bed, determined to make her feel how much he loved her.

Gabriel took her hand in his, entwining their fingers before he gripped the soft fat of her thigh, and dove between her legs.

Y/N jumped a mile in the air. He sucked at her clit and lapped at her pussy like a man starved, kissing and nipping lightly around her flower.

He cleaned up any cum that may have been leaking out of her, not minding the taste, just reveling in the holistic experiance she was allowing him to have.

He may have been clumsy, and a little uncoordinated, but what he lacked in experience, he made up for tenfold in enthusiasm.

Gabriel drank from Y/N like it was the juice from the sweetest and tangiest of fruits, the finest of honeyed wine. His dedication to her, his worship, led to an orgasm in no time at all.

“Gabriel! I, ooo, that’s good. Just like that. I think…Gabriel I’m gonna, I…HMMMMMMNGGG!”

She came with a low groan, her nectar coating his face as he lapped up as much as he could, before wiping his mouth and resurfacing for a kiss.

Y/N didn’t mind the taste of herself on his tongue, and together they cuddled up, snuggling in their after glow.

All too soon though, it became too uncomfortable and sticky for them to stay in bed. They both went to bathe, ending up in the bath and watching a holo on Y/N’s data pad together.

Y/N could tell he wasn’t getting into the show, though. Gabriel was more interested in watching her. Watching her expressions and the way she lit up or screwed her brow together at the plot.

Eventually Y/N got tired of the Holo as well, turning it off and putting it down in the floor next to the bath.

Turning around, careful not to splash too much water over the sides, she wrapped her arms and legs around Gabriel’s torso, sinking into his softness with a sigh of content.

“Your warm and comfy” she breathed out, just about falling asleep on his chest.

Gabriel’s heart swelled with pride. He couldn’t help it. His ego was stroked by the woman currently trying to bury her way into him, trying to get as close as possible to his warmth and safety.

Yeah, he liked that he could make her feel safe, even if there was no danger. He liked to protect and now, he had something he could look after like he’d always wanted.

after what seemed like no time at all though, the water turned cold. Too cold for his love to stay in without catching a cold.

“My love?” He gently whispered into the sleepy woman’s ear.

She whined in response, earning an amused huff from him.

“I think we should get out. It’s too cold for you”

“Nooo. M’not cold, and I’m comfy too”

Y/N clung tighter to his chest, not wanting to peel herself off of him. He didn’t have the strength to try and force her.

So instead, he just slid his hands under her ass and awkwardly stood up, taking her with him.

This seemed to startle the woman, who slid off with a squawk.

“All right, all right. I’m up” she said, annoyance at being disturbed lacing her tone.

“Come, little one. Let’s go to bed.”

Y/N yawned and nodded. Too tired to fight and lured behind him by the promise of a warm bed shared with the large, soft man.

When they got upstairs and climbed under the covers, they snuggled up again, with Y/N on Gabriel’s chest and tummy like a weighted blanket, and him with his arms around her.

It felt cozy, right.

Maybe all those years of suffering meant something after all.

Gabriel felt a warm tingling. Y/N had started kissing whatever skin was closest to her lips, giving gentle little kitten licks and nips along the way.

“Love?” Gabriel questioned, not sure of her intentions.

Y/N yawned and nuzzled back into his soft, hairy chest. Gabriel felt more than heard her reply.

“Nothing, beautiful. I just, I love you”

She was already asleep by the time Gabriel answered, snoring sweetly and gently. Content to rest trustingly in his arms and on his heart.

“I love you too.” He slurred sleepily, joining her in dreams knowing he’d see her there too.

Yeah, it had all been for something after all.

[wardenparker]

Once Upon a Time... part 1

Zach Wellison x plus size f!Reader Co-written with @absurdthirst​

Zach’s life gets turned upside down when his visit to the local library sends him all the way back to Camelot - and he meets another time traveler who has made the kingdom their home.

Rating: Teen Word Count: 12k Warnings: *This is a Zach fic so there WILL be discussion of homelessness.* Cursing, nudity, and some sexy conversation. The yearning starts early, folx. Summary: Zach falls asleep in the library and wakes up in Camelot, only to find that he isn’t the first American to ever grace King Arthur’s court. Notes: Y’ALL THANK YOU SO MUCH! This is my way of saying YOU’RE ALL THE BEST for following and reading and generally being lovely humans. Keri and I really dug into this one and had a blast. It’s a sweet little love story with all the indulgent trappings. Normally I don’t mention my faceclaims in the notes, but in this case I want to spread the love for Charlie Hunnam’s Arthur - he is our fc for Sir Gareth!

Of all the libraries that were in LA county, Baldwin Park is probably Zach’s favorite. The librarians never hassled him. As long as he was quiet and not bothering other patrons he was allowed to stay for as long as he wanted to. Bypassing the technicality that he wasn’t a patron. A patron had a library card, but to get one of those, you needed to have an address. Something else that was on the list of things that Zach Wellison didn’t have.

It was close to the park that he slept in most nights. Across the street actually. So, it wasn’t like he had a long walk to get ’home’. And unlike the community center, they didn’t get huffy about him bringing the large pack where he had all of his possessions. If it weren’t for all the stuff inside, he could pass for an older student studying, rather than a homeless man relishing time under a roof, access to a bathroom where he might discreetly wash up; and lose himself in books for a few hours.

"Good morning, Zach." Some of the librarians are fussy about having the homeless inside but it's mostly because many of them are ill or disturb the other patrons. Zach never has. He's polite, respectful, cleans up after himself, and really just likes to read. "I think I might have seen a cup of coffee and a Panera bag back in the mythology stacks..." The librarians who aren't fussy are more than happy to welcome a bookworm vet into the building any day of the week.

Zach frowns, even as his stomach grumbles. “You didn’t have to do that.” He mumbles, feeling guilty for someone spending money on him. It’s not that he isn’t grateful, he is, it’s just a hard hit to his pride when he used to be one of The Few, The Proud. Hitching his pack up higher on his shoulder, he shuffles his feet slightly. “Thank you….do you want me to grab the return bin down for you?” He asks. In an effort to prevent kids from shoving disgusting things in the chute that the book return system has - like food wrappers and used sanitary products - they had moved it up. The downside was that when bin was full, it was heavy. As nice as the ladies were to him, he felt like it was the least he could do.

"I'd appreciate that, thank you." The older woman nods, shrugging a little when she shows him the extra trouble her arthritis is giving her today. "You're the most reliable employee that I can't pay," she always jokes, but she won't pour salt in the wound by reminding him that she'd bend over backward to find him a position if only he had an address.

He gives her a half grin and sets down his bag, behind the counter so no one could walk away with it. “I think breakfast is payment enough.” He tells her, not mentioning that it would also be lunch and dinner.

"Go enjoy, dear." This particular branch librarian has never told his particular veteran about her family’s connection to his, and she doesn’t intend to. He's human, and deserves to be treated with kindness. So she does and that's the end of it. And if his breakfast happens to be stacked on the windowsill beside some new arrivals from a recently closed branch of the LA Public Library System across the city? Well, that's just a coincidence.

Zach pulls the hefty box down from its spot under the chute and empties it, making easy to handle stacks for the older woman on the rollaway cart before he puts it back. Then he runs into the bathroom before anyone else can get here. While the urge for hot coffee was high, there was something to be said for having it while he's freshly washed that just makes him feel normal for a moment.

******

The Lost Tales of Camelot proclaims the scrolling, embossed title of the leather-bound volume on top of the stack on the windowsill. Compiled, Translated, and Edited by Anne E. Pluto & Dr. M. Dockray-Miller. It's old - well-loved, if you would rather - but in beautiful condition and the pages are Bible-thin. It looks fully out of place beside the modern coffee cup and paper sack of food, but right at home on the library windowpane.

Zach moans, the smell of the coffee and the food is nearly overwhelming, and he opens the sack and sniffs appreciatively. She had bought too much, but then, she always did. Steak, egg and cheese everything bagel and a cherry cheese danish. He brings the bag and the coffee cup over to the table before he goes back for the book. His bag propped up in front of him, he will use it to hold the book up and read while he eats. Letting him pretend to have a moment of normalcy.

Within the first pages of The Lost Tales of Camelot, it is obvious that the volume has been loved. There are notes and markings, the kind librarians hate, and as well as breaks in the binding that speak to unanimously agreed upon favourite stories. Pages still bent where once they were dog-eared. Small stains where soup or coffee was splashed in moments of excitement. The book falls open to one such page - a cracked binding and drop of what might have been tea signaling a good place to start even if it is halfway through the volume. Caisearbhán and Her Loves is printed neatly at the top of the page, with a small drawing of a lute lying in the grass beside a dandelion.

The Lady Bard Caisearbhán was not of Camelot, though she loved it well. Her banquet seat as King Arthur’s guest was an honorable one, and he sat her at his nephew Gareth’s side that she might love him and call his kingdom her own. And she did, sweet songbird. For a time.

******

The sounds of rushing water and dogs barking pricks at his consciousness, but he doesn't wake up. The sleep is heavy and his hand jerks but other than that, he lays still, unaware of thundering hooves and yips of dogs working their way closer. His lower body still being pulled with the current of the water where his legs are in the river. "Over here!" A shout rises up, quickly followed by the blowing of a horn. Men rushing over to the unconscious body of a man.

“A traveler?” A deep voice asks over the pounding of hooves as the man is pulled from the river without fuss or flailing. “Is there any life in him?” The knight on horseback is meant only to observe, but he dismounts to kneel on the riverbank.

Zach's brow pulls together, and he flinches even if he doesn't wake up when footsteps approach. Boots crunching against the rocks and a man kneels down next to him. "He breathes!" He calls back, flipping Zach over to look at him.

“You’re fortunate these men found you, boy.” The deep voice is gruff but not unkind, and the hand attached to it reaches to help him sit up. “What misfortune nearly drowned you in the King’s river this day?”

Zach's eyes fly open and he's choking out as he sits up, that flight or fight instinct starting to kick in and he blinks. Water in his eyes and he's shoving away the hand from his body. "What the fuck!"

“Steady.” That deep voice becomes a rumble. He may not speak the same tongue as this wayward boy, but he does not like the tone. “You are directly addressing a Knight of Camelot and you will keep a respectful tongue or lose it altogether.”

"Knight of—" Zach scrubs his eyes with his hands again and blinks them, looking at the man before turning and looking at the horses - why are there horses? - and then at the river. "Where are we?" His tone lowers but he's wary, knowing that there is nowhere in LA that looks like this, unless he's somehow on an elaborate backlot movie set. "What are you shooting?”

“Shooting?” A younger man - younger than the traveler most certainly - looks confused and concerned as his eyes turn to his companion. “My lord, we brought no archers.”

“Nor should you have, Cailan,” the slightly older man shakes his head reassuringly. “This man is hurt. Help me lift him.” There is blood on the traveler’s trousers, and though he has seen it only once before, the knight knows this material. “My friend, you have reached the lands of Camelot. You have traveled far to reach us, I think, and will be desiring to see your countryman.”

"Cam— Camelot?" Zach doesn't resist when the two men help pull him to his feet. He must have gotten mugged and dumped somewhere. He can't remember anything beyond this morning at the library. He groans and sways slightly. "Countryman?" He winces when he presses down on the goose egg on the back of his head. Their accents are unusual and definitely not LA. "Are you method acting?"

The larger man’s brow furrowed this time, but he doesn’t let go of the traveler, instead helping him to his horse to ride. “I do not know who Method Acting is, but I am Gareth,” he explains. “Knight of the kingdom of Camelot and nephew to its king.”

Zach stares at the horse, having been years since he had been on one. Like middle school, seventh grade trip to that dude ranch in Palm Springs. And that horse didn't look nearly as mean as this one. "Zach." He mutters, looking around at the men in armor and what looks to be realistic swords. "My name is Zach."

“Zach.” Gareth repeats it, grimacing at the awkward way it feels in his mouth, but he nods. “My squire, Cailan.” He gestures to the younger man, and then the others around them. “We will return to the castle. Cailan, ride ahead and inform His Majesty. Have a bed prepared for my lady’s countryman before we arrive.”

"I— It's been years since I've been on a horse." Zach admits, flushing when all the men looked shocked. "There aren't a lot of them where I am from."

“You are welcome to walk the distance,” Gareth is obviously skeptical. “But it will be some hours yet.”

Zach grimaces and eyes the horse. "Shit." He huffs and reaches for the edge of the saddle. "I guess I'm relearning." He mutters as he sticks one of his tennis shoes in the stirrup.

It is less than elegant - the effort of getting the traveler into the saddle - but when it is finally achieved, he seems reasonably secure. Gareth swings himself up into his own steed much more easily - soft leather armour shining in the afternoon sun as the rest of the party falls in line behind them.

Zach watches the landscape, finding no roads but the worn paths of animals and carts. The surrounding area is quiet, too quiet. There is not the background of cars or the noise of a set. Nothing sounded like it had before. He was confused, wary, and his head hurt. "Anyone have any Advil?" He asks, looking back at Gareth as the horses start moving.

Gareth’s head tilts in curiosity. “Do you usually travel with smithing equipment?” He asks, surprised at the idea. “You do not ride, and you carry no weapons. For what could you possibly require an anvil?”

He is utterly confused for a long moment until he realizes. "No, not anvil, Advil. You know, aspirin?" He corrects himself. "Medicine, for a headache?"

Still not utterly convinced, the knight simply nods. “If you require a healer, I will summon one when we arrive.”

Biting his lip, he decides to drop it. Maybe there's a medical tent or something set up. This is apparently the most elaborate cosplay. Kind of like those Ren Fests where they live like the time period. "So how far away is the castle?" He asks.

“With everyone on horseback?” The larger man chuckles, actually breaking a smile. “I will be in my lady’s arms before the skies darken.” He points toward the horizon, indicating the long outline of a stone wall and a massive building with half a dozen turrets nestled safely inside its walls. “Home is westward. Toward the setting sun.”

He nods and spends the rest of the trip trying to make sure that he doesn't try to fall off the horse. While he might not understand why, but he feels like this group already thinks him unusual for not knowing how to ride. He doesn't want to cause any issues until he is back to some kind of civilization and figure out where the fuck he is.

******

It’s rare that you actually have any errands to speak of. Life at court is nearly as luxurious as every single book and movie always made it out to be, but the days are getting warmer and longer, so you had relished the chance to leave the castle walls on your own today. As on your own as you can be when you have a resentful servant following you for feet behind every step you take.

The local weaver who has made your new cloak - lighter, bless her, and somehow mostly water repellent because of how she has treated the wool - had sent you on your way half an hour ago and now you’re walking in awkward quiet back up to the castle with the servant girl behind you. It could be worse. You think, rolling your eyes to yourself. She could be telling you how much she doesn’t like you instead of just staring at the back of your head. Even after being here for almost a year, some people still were wary of you as an outsider.

“Cailan!” The young squire that rounds the corner of the bustling village inside the castle walls is a welcome sight for your chatty self today. If Cailan has returned from the forest, that means Gareth is returned as well. You wave across the busy crossroad and hurry to catch Cailan before he rides out of sight. “Cailan!”

Cailan is well used to you shouting out for him in your accent unique and he turns his head. "My lady!" Pulling on the reins of his horse, he directs the beast over towards you, pulling short a few feet from you and dismounting. "My lady, we found one of your countrymen!" He blurts out excitedly as he rushes up to you, excitement written on his young face.

You laugh, enjoying the teen’s joke, and shake your head. “Cailan, have you been too long in the sun?” There is absolutely no chance in hell that they found one of your countrymen anywhere near here. You still don’t even know how you got here.

"'Tis the truth! We found him near the river, close to where you were discovered." He leans in and lowers his voice. "He speaks in the same strange accent and wears the unusual clothes you said are from your country."

It takes longer than you’re proud of for you to react - nearly swallowing your own tongue and choking on your breath as your mind starts to reel. “Cailan, are you positive?” You ask him slowly, belying the fact that you’re vibrating in place. Someone else is here? How did they get here? Do they remember? Where are they from? WHEN are they from? “He was wearing the same clothing I was? Denim? Sneakers? You’re sure?”

Cailan frowns at the words, trying to remember what they correlated to in your strange clothing. “The shoes on his feet, they had - they were strange. A symbol on the side.” He raises his hand and draws a Nike check mark in the air. “They were very worn.”

“Mary, mother of God.” You cross yourself - the product of growing up with intensely Catholic family and then being dropped into this intensely Christian kingdom - and look up to the sky as though this Nike-wearing countryman of yours might have simply fallen out of it. “Take me home, Cailan.” You’re not even asking, just demanding it as you gather your dress and cloak over one arm and sling yourself up onto the squire’s horse behind him. “Aisling,” you look back over your shoulder at the servant girl who you know is even more confused than you are. “If my countryman is in any condition similar to myself when I arrived, he will need a bath and mead.” Someone else is here!

******

Zach starts to worry when he doesn’t see one fucking car in sight. Where the fuck is he? He squirms in the saddle as the group on horseback make their way through the village surrounding the castle. Everything looked and smelled authentic. Not disgusting, but those pigs in a pen next to what was obviously a butcher, weren’t just brought there yesterday for a set. What the fuck is going on?

******

You’re practically pacing a groove into the stone floor of the receiving room, wringing your hands and waiting for Cailan to return with Gareth and the traveler as Cailan continues to call the man. You were specific, probably asking for things far above your status, but considering you practically never asked for anything at all, you would risk it this time. The second Gareth and that man set foot inside the castle walls, Cailan is supposed to bring them straight to you. Here, in a public space. Because asking for him to be brought straight to your quarters might as well be asking to be fucked right in the middle of the throne room. And although the King and Queen favour you, that is definitely pushing it.

******

Zach groans as he dismounts the horse, barely keeping from falling on his ass. Gareth come and slaps a hand against his back. “Come. My lady will have prepared a proper welcome for her countryman. We must not disappoint her.”

The sound of boots in the short hallway gives them away. Gareth’s sure-footed stride is one you know by heart, and while you’re certainly always glad to see the handsome, brawny knight, he’s not who you’re itching to see turn the corner.

Now Zach is in shock. Trying to hide the panic when he realizes this is actually a fucking castle. This isn’t a set, and he knows for damn sure there are no stone castles like this in LA county. He’s pinching his arm, trying to wake himself up as he follows the knight through the halls.

“My lady waits within.” Cailan turns one more corner, holding his head high as he’s certain that he has followed every instruction from both Sir Gareth and you to the utmost.

Zach follows and stops when Gareth walks up to the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Gorgeous curves, in a dress that does nothing but flatter your bust and accentuate the dip of your waist. He swallows and stands there nervously as Gareth picks up your hand and presses his lips to the back of it.

The smallest goddamn breeze in the world could knock you over when Cailan and Gareth escort a third man into the receiving room. Slightly shorter than Gareth himself and not quite as broad, olive skin and chocolate coloured hair compared to the Knight’s blonde hair and paler complexion - this man is absolutely, unmistakably, one hundred percent from the twenty-first century. From head to toe, his faded t-shirt, nearly destroyed jeans, and worn through Nikes are pretty much the same as every guy you ever passed on the way to work in the afternoon.

Gareth is Gareth, as always, and while his traditional greeting of a kiss to the back of your hand would normally have you melting into the stonework, there’s a slightly more pressing matter at hand today. “Sir Gareth…” the doors are open, and any ears could be listening, otherwise you wouldn’t bother with his title. “My lord, will you introduce me to this stranger? He has the look of my countrymen about him.” And it’s been so long since you could say that.

Zach twitches as he wonders why you would say that, until he realizes you don’t speak with the same accent as the men. You are…you are American. Stepping forward, he holds his hand out to shake. “Zach Wellison.” A million questions roll through his mind, but he can’t ask them now.

He’s American! You move to shake his hand immediately, a move with completely confuses Gareth and Cailan, and you suddenly can’t stop smiling from the shock of it all. “Hi, Zach.” You break out into a grin. “Welcome to Camelot.” A handshake is more contact that you have with most men these days - Gareth excepted - and Zach’s hand is large and warm around yours.

Camelot. The fact that the same place he was reading about before this happened makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Or maybe it was your touch. “Interesting to run into a fellow…countryman here.” Zach offers as he reluctantly drops your hand.

“The only two of us to have ever been here, as far as I know.” The affectation you’ve picked up after a year here - the speech pattern you’ve slipped into and gotten comfortable with - seems to immediately evaporate with him. “Can I ask…how you got here?” Because you can’t remember a goddamn thing.

“I— I don’t know.” He admits, shaking his head and looking around. “I was at the library and then - poof, I’m on the bank of the river.”

“The library?” Your jaw drops to the floor, but you have a pretty good instinct that this conversation should be continued in private. “Gareth?” To hell with formality for the moment. “I have asked Aisling to draw my countryman a bath in my chambers and retrieve a bottle of mead to welcome him. To offer such comforts is…traditional for us.” In the world of lies you’ve told since getting here, this is completely minimal. “But I am afraid I neglected to think of clean clothing for him. “I do not suppose new things could be procured for him before supper?”

Zach’s eyebrow wings up, but he doesn’t comment or argue with your statement. Instead, he watches the larger man frown at what he could only assume is the impropriety of a man bathing in a woman’s room. Although the mention of a bath and clean clothes makes this place seem like Heaven.

You breathe, thinking about what you’re asking of him, and step in closer to Gareth to lower your voice. “Think how strange the ways of Camelot once were to me, my lord. And try to remember that just because my request is strange, does not make it wrong.” Honestly, you’d only asked the servant girl to draw a bath because you remembered how disgusting you’d felt when you arrived. And Zach Wellison would definitely need new clothes before being presented to Arthur. It wasn’t an unreasonable request.

Gareth softens slightly, remembering how timid and nervous you had been when you arrived, he would think that this strange country of yours taught you nothing about surviving. He nods. “Of course, my lady. I shall have fresh clothes brought to you chambers.” He picks up your hand again and kisses it. “Make your countryman feel welcome. I wish only for your happiness.”

“Thank you.” It’s a soft little whisper, one of pure appreciation, and you beam at him for a second. This very normal day is now anything but, and frankly you’re ecstatic about it. You hadn’t realized how much you missed your own kind of person until the chance to talk to one had arisen. “Zach?” You turn to catch his attention but find his eyes already on you. “Please, come with me? Hopefully we can get you feeling a little less…confused.”

Disappointment hums through his system when he discovers that Gareth's lady is the woman in front of him. Of course the first woman he had actually seen for the first time was already with someone. He nods, unable to help with way that his stomach flops when you smile at him and hold out your hand. "Thank you, uh, Gareth." Zach tells the knight with a grateful nod.

“Put your hand under mine.” You whisper, when Zach looks confused about why you are holding out your hand in midair. Walking side by side is a slightly more formal prospect here, right down to the distance apart you should be standing. “And come this way.”

He nods, biting down on his lip to keep from asking you a million questions. Sensing that right now, in the open, is not where he needs to grill you on what the fuck is going on. Instead, he follows your directions, your hand warm on top of his and tries not to break his neck as he tries to take in the details of everything around him all at once. Situational awareness, it was what he was taught in the Marine Corps and he was out of his element right now. Too many changes coming at him at once.

Castles are huge things - stone cities contained behind high walls - but you are lucky to have very centralized chambers. Properly, it is so that Arthur never had to wait long for you to arrive after summoning you, but right now it’s a blessing you’ll gladly take at face value. “So…” Your voice is still quiet as you walk, but you’re brimming with energy. “Where are you from?”

He glances around. "LA. You?" The answer is more convoluted than that, but it's where he was when he was brought here. "Where the fuck are we?"

“Camelot.” You hum the word at him even as you’re practically bouncing with every step. “I-I was in LA before this, too. That can’t be a coincidence. I mean originally I’m from New Hampshire, but the fact you’re here and you know where that is and you speak twenty-first century English is fucking wild.”

"Camelot." Zach shakes his head. "I was reading a book about Camelot. It's the last think I remember..."

Your eyes widen when your head snaps over to search his bewildered face. “The Lost Tales of Camelot?” The name of that book will be burned into your brain forever. It’s the last memory of LA you have, as well. “Is that what you were reading? The library book?”

His own eyes dart over to meet yours. "Yes!” That was it. That was the book." He bites his lip and looks over at you. "Is that— is that what you were reading, too?" He asks, trying to figure out a connection between the two of you being in this place together.

“It’s the last thing I remember.” Nodding slowly, you continue to navigate the winding hallways of the castle you have called home for so long. “That means…shit.” Knowing that time has marched on without you isn’t quite the comfort you had forced yourself to think it would be if you ever got home and found that it was months and months later there, too. “When are you from?” You ask him cautiously. “It was the first of May in 2020 when I fell asleep on my living room couch reading that book.”

Zach makes a strangled sound and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “Ma- 2020?” He looks around because his voice rose in his surprise. “It’s March 14th, 2021.” He tells you, voice much lower than before. “At least it was when I was at the library.”

A rueful smile is the best you can do to stifle the way your stomach lurches. “It’s…it’s March 14th,” you tell him with a nod. “In the year of our Lord 498.”

He stops short, nearly tripping over himself as he sputters. "4-490-498?." He chokes out and starts trembling as he processes it. "There's no— no." He shakes his head. "There's no way."

“It’s insane.” You can agree to that wholeheartedly as you approach your chamber door and find Aisling there waiting. “Try to keep it together until we’re alone, okay? Then I promise you can have a nervous breakdown in the tub.” The girl lets you pass, of course, with a curtsy and thin smile that is entirely for Zach’s benefit. You know Aisling doesn’t think much of being a bard’s servant, but Zach is exceptionally handsome so apparently that is going to make it okay for now. “Stay here,” you instruct her as kindly as you can while trying to convey how important it is that she stay put. Thankfully, you don’t usually have visitors. Except for important ones.

Zach takes in the room, a bed that has a canopy over it, something out of every little girls dream. A stone hearth with a large fire that has been built up in front of it and a large wooden tub right in front of it, small footstool next to it with a cloth and some kind of jar sitting on it. "I—"

“It’s not exactly the Beverly Hills Hotel, but it’s not bad.” The fact that you have one whole room to yourself and that you only have to share your bed for sex and not necessity actually showed the status you hold - the celebrity - even if it’s just one room. “The bath is hot.” It’s a lot to take in. You know it is. You had only been so lucky that you had had a woman to show you around early on. The Queen is kind, even if she had found you a little odd at first. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get the hang of a medieval bath bomb, but there’s beeswax and ash soap beside the tub, and…” you pick up a bottle from the long table against the opposite wall. “The best mead I’ve ever had in my life. Better than any hipster IPA or bitch brunch rosé you could possibly find on Rodeo Drive.”

Zach snorts and looks around again. "It's better than anything I've had in a long time. Unless you consider that week I slept in a storage shed display in front of a Home Depot." He blurts out before he realizes what he said and flushes, shuffling slightly and there is a belligerent expression on his face, like he expects you to look down on him. Why wouldn't you? Everyone else does now.

Five or six different stages of confusion make their way across your face before you even have a prayer of processing what he means, but the utter sympathy on your face speaks volumes when you finally work it out. His clothes. The library. The homeless population in LA was astronomical when you left and COVID was only making the problem worse for those who had to suffer through it. “You were homeless?” You shake your head adamantly and grab two drinking horns from the carved shelves beside your table and immediately pull the cork from the mead bottle in your other hand to pour two drinks. “I’m so…Jesus Zach, I’m so sorry. You won’t be, here. I promise.”

He shrugs his shoulders, embarrassed about his circumstances. Defensiveness is his protection, had been for a long time. "No need to be sorry." He spits bitterly. "Did it to myself, right?" He scoffs, remembering how often that sentiment was thrown his way. "Obviously I must have done something or I'm a junkie."

“To be homeless in LA? You just aren’t a millionaire.” You scoff and hold out a drink as a peace offering for making him uncomfortable. “I had four roommates for what was legally a three bedroom apartment. My room was a converted laundry room.” There’s a slight pause before he takes the horn from your hand and you see the blink of a tattoo on his hand. “Military?” You guess softly, knowing how many homeless vets you saw in the park every week.

He looks back at you and relaxes his shoulders slightly before he takes a large drink of the mead. "Ooh-Rah." He huffs. "Marines." He sighs and looks at the horn before he grunts. "You were right, this is good. It's been - fuck - two years since I've had a beer?"

“Go easy on that, then,” you warn him with a grin. “I didn’t water it down. It’ll kick your ass on an empty stomach and your new equivalent of an over the counter pain killer is a poultice from the heater.”

"No wonder they didn't know what the fuck I was talking about when I asked for an Advil." He chuckles and takes a smaller sip of the mead. "Is that offer of a bath serious?" He asks after he lowers the cup again. "Because I have to say that a bath and the rest of this drink -er, mead, sounds like heaven."

“By all means.” Motioning to the tub with one hand, you refill his drink with the other and settle down on the trunk at the end of your bed, using it as a seat. “I don’t know what Gareth will dig up for clothes, but we definitely can’t have you showing up to supper with Arthur in jeans.”

"Arthur." Zach shakes his head and starts to strip off his clothes. He had spent too much time in the military to be too modest and you didn't look like you were leaving. "Is this— so Arthur really existed or is this some kind of— what? Alternate reality?"

“I’m not sure.” There isn’t much for privacy in this small space, but you angle yourself away to give him as much as possible - frankly you’re way too fucking excited to see someone else from the twenty-first century and afraid that if you leave him alone, he’ll get too disoriented. You would have given anything for another ‘countryman’ when you arrived, and you weren’t going to desert him now. “I mean, no one was really sure if this place was real or just legend, so for all I know we’re just magically inside a fucking book. I just know that I’ve been here for almost a year and…” You swallow thickly and take a long sip of your drink. “And this is my life now. I don’t know how I got here so I don’t have any clue where to even start in getting back again. This is reality now. Whatever that means.”

He nods and groans, stepping into the water once he is stripped down before he lowers himself into the hot water. "Jesus." He hisses in pleasure. "I - what do you do? What are you doing here?” He picks up the horn and leans back in the tub. "Do you have a role in King Arthur's court?" He chuckles slightly at the statement.

“It gets less weird to say, I promise.” You chuckle and try not to bite your lip at the blatantly pornographic sounds he makes as he sinks into the water. Don’t turn around and make it weird, you remind yourself. “I am His Majesty’s bard. On-call entertainment any time he wants. In exchange I am always fed, have my own room, beautiful dresses, and a servant who thinks waiting on a bard is beneath her.” You chuckle at the last bit, knowing Aisling can probably hear you. “It’s hell of a lot better than waiting tables at the Encino Chili’s while I tried to weed out the actual singing auditions from hundreds of porn offers.”

He closes his eyes, humming slightly. "Entertainment, huh?" He chews on his lip. "Is that like court jester?" He jokes, feeling the hot water seep into his muscles and he relaxes for the first time in....years.

“Thankfully, no.” You’ve seen what that poor jester goes through when the king is in a bad mood. “I’m his personal singer and storyteller. King Arthur is a big Elton John fan, for the record.”

The entire situation is completely surreal, and he can't help but laugh. "Is he more of a Candle in the Wind or Rocketman type of man?" He asks, unable to resist the image of a man who was essentially a myth enjoying the musical works of Elton John. He couldn't exactly blame him, Crocodile Rock was his own personal favorite. Reminded him of working on his dad's truck with him when he was little.

“I think I would get myself executed trying to explain what a rocket is in the first place. No. But he loves Your Song,” you admit sheepishly. “Although he definitely thinks I wrote it, so please don’t ruin that for me.”

"My lips are sealed." Zach promises. "Anything that I know would definitely get me killed, especially military-wise." He huffs. "Our swords were ceremonial only."

“We’ll find something for you to do.” There’s very little translation between modern military technique and the Knights of the Round Table beside the mentality, as far as you can tell. Certainly the weaponry is vastly different, and the Marine Corps doesn’t ride horseback. “Unless you want to continue to be a soldier. In which case I could ask Gareth to see if anyone is taking on squires.” He’d be much, much too old to be a squire traditionally, but all kinds of exceptions can be made for the right favour.

Zach shakes his head. "I don't think they have any clue what PTSD is." He mumbles. "I don't want to kill anyone else." He wasn't the type of man to brag about the people that he killed. It had been war, but it still doesn't mean he wants to continue to do it. Especially given the fact that this was close combat, not bombs and guns. There was no calling for an airstrike.

You turn, instinctively reaching across the small space to touch his shoulder. “Then we’ll find you something else. Something peaceful. I promise.”

Zach chuckles. "I'm sure I'll be so useful." He takes another sip of the mead. "My street skills will translate to something. although I'm sure that the ability to read and write will be impressive."

Quick to avert your eyes so you’re not staring at a stranger in the bath, you nod and swallow another sip of your own drink. “There’s no standard spelling here which drives me up a wall, but being a scholar is incredibly prestigious. Enough to get you a few offers of obedient daughters for a wife, if you want one.”

That makes him nearly drop his horn of mead. "W-what?" He sputters out, face flushing at the idea that people would pursue him to marry their daughters.

“Only if you want.” You shrug your shoulders at him. “But…this is it, Zach. I don’t know how we got here, and I don’t know if it’s even possible to get back. So we’ll find something for you and get you settled in.” Shoulders shrinking, you shrug at him helplessly. “I’m sorry. But I don’t think it’s possible to get back to LA.”

Zach's heart sinks at the idea that he might be stuck here for the rest of his life but his brow furrows. "Have you— where were you discovered? Was it the same place that I was? Or was it someplace else?" He asks, trying to figure out if there is a particular portal.

“Cailan said they found you in almost the same place I—" A soft knock on the outer door interrupts you and Aisling sticks her head inside with an armload of clothing and leaves it on the table beside the tub and goes out again, but not before you catch her eyes running over Zach’s figure in the tub. “Thank you, Aisling,” you usher her out of the room with a noise that barely stops short of a hiss. No one here has tattoos and the men aren’t circumcised, so presuming Zach is like most American males - you don’t want his dick to become a talking point. For his sake.

Zach lifts a brow at your tone and sits up as she walks out of the room. "Is everything okay?" He asks quietly, sensing the there is some tension and an underlying issues that he's not aware of next.

“She’s a gossip.” You murmur, shutting your chamber door behind the girl’s back. “And, um…assuming you’re like most modern American men…you were…I-I mean you don’t have…” You huff out a sigh. “The last thing you need is to be labeled the foreigner with part of his dick cut off…”

Chuckling, he shakes his head. "Oh." He bites his lip and gives a small shrug. We can always say that it is a part of our ways." He offers. "Along with my tattoo." He nods to the side of his shoulder where he is sporting the Eagle, Globe and Anchor of the Marine Corps with the script Semper Fidelis underneath. "At least the phrase is Latin?" He jokes with a grin.

“Trust me,” you snort, shaking your head. “She’s not interested in your arms. People around here gossip their asses off and then turn right around and pretend every girl is a pure little angel.”

"Well, she won't get an opportunity to find out if I'm circumcised or not." He tells you with certainty. He didn't like the fact that she would look down on taking care of you, even if you were strange in her eyes. It smacked too close to the prejudice he had received while living on the streets.

You’re not entirely sure why you find that reassuring - his determination in the subject. Maybe it’s just nice to know all men aren’t horn dogs. Either way, you motion to the stack of clean clothes with a small smile. “I hope you’re not too manly for leggings. Boxers won’t be invented for another fourteen-hundred years.”

He snorts and shoots you a grin. "You want to know how we kept from having chaffing on forced marches in the Marines? Marching twenty miles is no joke." He asks you conspiratorially. "Women's panty hose. We all wore them under our uniforms."

The sound that comes out of you is practically a snort, and your shoulders shake with laughing. You can’t even imagine some of the asshole Army fucks you grew up with having the balls to admit to wearing pantyhose. “Think of those like long underwear,” you tell him when you stop giggling. “In a few weeks you won’t need them anymore, but Wales in March is cold before global warming.”

He frowns slightly at the mention of it being cold. Despite your assurances that he would have a place to sleep, he was in a time and place that was not his own, with nothing but the clothes on his back. He couldn't even imagine trying to survive a cold night here. "I'm sure I'll find out." He sets down the empty horn and picks up the clay pot of soap and scoops some out while he leans forward and dunks his hair in the still warm water.

Something about the way he says it makes you frown, but you shake it off in favour of giving him some privacy while he actually washes up. “Arthur’s nice.” You offer, hoping a change of subject is a good idea. “Likes dirty jokes and hearing stories about how great he is…just like you would expect any king to be. Just stick to calling him ‘sire’ until he says you can call him something else. Guinevere really has a thing about manners but she’s also incredibly kind. And Merlin is kind of like everybody’s meddling aunt. He knows everything. Every little bit of gossip and rumour. I’m fucking shocked that he hasn’t been more suspicious of me, honestly.”

His head reels as you casually drop names that he's only read in book or seen in move portrayals. Talk about them as if you have talked to them yesterday, because you have. It makes him shake his head in wonder even as he moans at the feeling of the soap being worked into his scalp. His hair had been getting greasy and it's been at least four days since he's managed to wash his hair in a sink.

“I can have some of that soap sent to your chamber.” It’s a small offer, as far as you’re concerned, but you can’t imagine how long it’s been since he’s had a proper bath if he’s been homeless. “It’s not the usual stuff…that’s handmade just for me…beeswax, honey, ash, and clover from the forest. I know it sounds precious, but the normal stuff they use is lye soap and I just didn’t feel as clean.”

"I— thanks." He continues to scrub his head, nails scratching against his scalp deliciously. "I guess if I have a room, it would be nice." He says that part softly, not wanting to insult your offer, but there was always the chance he would be kicked out on his ass.

“You will.” You’re sure of that. Arthur won’t deny your request on that front. Not when there’s plenty of rooms to spare since the last group of traveling artisans cleared out when the snows lifted. “You’ll have your own bed to sleep in tonight.” Shrugging a little, you toss him a huff and half-smile. “Or you can visit the House, if you want a shared bed. But that’s up to you.”

Zach's eyes widen slightly, and he shakes his head. "No, I— I prefer to share a bed with someone willing, not paid." He's only ever slept with a prostitute once, after his first deployment and he really hadn't liked the way that he felt about himself after.

“If you change your mind, only go to the House, and tell them Dandelion sent you.” You don’t really mind admitting to being a patron of the local whore house, mostly because the girls there love having a customer who specializes in eating pussy. Knowing they could trust you went a long way towards gaining their favour when you were supposed to sing while they entertained the knights. “Th-that’s me. Dandelion.” You shrug a little at the moniker. “I loved The Witcher, so I kinda stole the stage name.”

Zach lifts a brow and looks over at you. "Hmm." He hums and looks towards the door and lowers his voice. "Does Gareth know that?" He's not judging, he just hadn't expect you to engage in something like that during this timeframe. He scoops more of the soap into a cloth and leaves the soap in his hair while he starts scrubbing every inch of his skin he can reach while he is sitting in the tub.

His discretion is appreciated, if nothing else, since you had told Zach that Aisling likes to gossip. “I haven’t been a patron since Gareth started courting me,” you tell him quietly, a little surprised that you’re so keen to open up to him. Zach is easy to talk to in the first place, and he’s like you. And it’s such a relief to talk to someone like you. “The reason I say to only go there is that they’re Merlin’s favourite, so he makes sure that all the girls and boys there are clean and protected.”

"I appreciate that, but—" He flushes slightly. "It's been a while since..." He trails off and concentrates on making sure that every inch of his feet are squeaky clean before he stands up. The military and the streets have left him with less modestly than most and he honestly doesn't care if you see him. You are familiar with a man's body obviously and you are being courted by someone, so he studiously keeps the idea that you are a nurse or caretaker in his mind.

“Totally up to you.” You rush out, quickly turning away again when he just stands up in the bathtub without turning away or feigning any kind of modesty. It’s not that you have any kind of Puritanical ideas about nudity, it’s that Zach is really fucking attractive. And hung. Fuck you definitely just looked right at his dick by accident. Clearly your throat awkwardly, you down the rest of your drink and get up to put the empty horn on the table across the room.

Once he has soaped up his body as much as he can, he can honestly say he feels like a brand new man. groaning when he sits back down and starts scooping up water so he can rinse his hair. "God this is— I could live right here." He groans as the soap runs out and he can feel the squeaky clean strands between his fingers.

“If you want to.” Steadily facing the wall, there’s still a smirk in your voice. “Slightly unconventional, but the Ballad of the Bath Man might be my greatest story yet.”

He chuckles and looks around at your back. “I don’t have anything you haven’t already seen.” He tells you. “I used to shower with thirty other men daily. You lose all sense of modestly.”

“Just trying to be polite.” And not have his body end up in your fantasies, which are currently strictly reserved for the equally magnificent Sir Gareth. It’s not like you can’t always tell when men are walking around with hard ons in this world, so dick size never stays a secret for long, but goddamn. “For all I know, you’re extremely precious about no one seeing the fucking third leg you’re packing.” Alright, so you’re not exactly the delicate flower you have to pretend to be in public. Of anyone, Zach might appreciate that.

Zach snorts and chuckles while he finishes washing off the soap and leaving his skin shiny and clean. He stands again and steps out onto the freshly laid reeds in front of the fireplace, groaning at the heat seeping into his body. "That's why my nickname was Tiny." He jokes.

“Very appropriate.” Clearing your throat a little is the best way to make sure he sees that you’re pointing to the table beside the bath, because if you turn around to face him again he’s going to see how flushed and bothered you are. “There’s a towel there for you. Or the Arthurian equivalent, anyway. Not as soft as terry cloth but it does the trick.”

It's cute that you are embarrassed but he does follow your finger and grab the cloth so he can wrap it around his waist. "So I'm assuming these hose, leggings whatever you want to call them are held up with a belt?" He asks, not believing that they would have anything like elastic for at least another 1500 years.

“They’re drawstring.” From the corner of your eye, you can see that he’s wrapped up in the towel and it’s a relief to be able to turn around to talk to him again. “The actual trousers that go over them need the belt. Then you have a tunic, and a surcoat. Then another, bigger belt goes over the surcoat that you can hang stuff from. Sword, knife, pouch, whatever.”

"Are we sure we can't wash the jeans and t-shirt I was wearing?" Zach asks, not really meaning it but it's a hell of a lot more complicated than the modern clothes.

“We can.” If that’s what he really wants, you’ll be happy to send them to the laundresses. “But I promise you’re going to be more comfortable than you think.”

"No." He shakes his head. "I shouldn't advertise that I am an outsider when I meet the king." Even if it does sound fantastical, he knows that he needs to tread lightly and adopt their ways while he is here.

Rifling through the stack of clothing, you can see it’s a combination of things. The hose, pants, and tunic all look like they might have been Cailan’s, but the surcoat, belts and boots are all beautifully crafted and embroidered leather that are very obviously from Gareth’s own wardrobe. “You’ll look like a gentleman in these,” you tell him with a smile. “They’re Gareth’s, I think. Which means they’ll hold up well until we can have some of your own made. It takes a few days…since we can’t just go to the mall.”

He walks over and lets his fingers glide over the embroidery. "It's very nice." He nods to the very fine velvet dress you are wearing. "Much like the dress you are wearing. You look like the heroine or love interest in a period piece."

“Oh, this old thing?” You laugh, knowing that he is literally the only one in the world right now who would understand that line as a joke. “I-I changed…before you got here. Cailan found me in the courtyard and said they’d found you and I just…well, it sounds silly. But I wanted to look nice.” It’s worse than silly. It’s probably downright dumb that you had immediately put in your favourite dress to try to look like a fairy tale princess when another modern person arrived in Camelot. Like he was walking into a movie or something.

He gives you a slow perusal and nods. "It - I couldn't help but think you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen." He admits with a slight flush to his cheeks. He knows you are spoken for, but you had admitted wanting to impress him, so you deserved to know how much you had succeeded in that.

“That’s…” you shuffle a little in place, hating the momentary flush of self-consciousness that comes over you. All your curves and extra bits weren’t desirable in LA. They weren’t fashionable and they made it even harder for you to book gigs when you even got past auditions. The notable discovery that fat is fashionable in Camelot because it means you’re rich enough to feed yourself was almost a slap in the face. But once you had settled in? It was remarkable to feel desired. Sought after. The first time you’d walked through the courtyard garden with Gareth had made you feel like a whole new woman. But Zach is from LA. In 2021. He’s just being nice. “That’s very sweet of you. Thank you.”

He can tell that you don't believe him. Or maybe his compliment doesn't mean much. After all, he might be from your time but he hadn't exactly been a desirable person to have compliment anyone. His jaw clenches slightly and he turns to study the clothes carefully. "Sorry." He mumbles quietly, reaching for the leggings. Getting dressed is probably needed and better so you don't have to be around a naked man who makes you uncomfortable.

“Don’t be.” Fuck. You cringe and drop your face in your hand. “I-I’m just…not great with compliments.” Shrugging helplessly, you shift to face the wall again so he can get dressed. “Being a plus sized singer in LA was fucking torture on what little self-esteem I had left. Which wasn’t much to begin with.”

"Plus sized?" Zach's eyebrow wings up and he shakes his head. "Because you aren't a size zero 'thanks I'll just have the small garden salad, no croutons, salad dressing on the side' type?" He mimics. "That's bullshit, you're fucking gorgeous." He always gets upset when he sees people be shamed for having a little extra weight on them. Fuck there were times when he would give anything to have a few extra pounds to spare.

You laugh a little despite yourself, just glad to hear that he’s a decent human being under all that conventionally attractive coating. “Lucky for me, there’s no sizes and no thin-is-in paradigm here. Not even any make up. I guess…lucky for you, too? If that’s your type.”

Zach pulls up the hose and pulls the drawstring tight. "I'm covered." He huffs but he does shoot you a grin when you look over at him. "I mean, anyone who doesn't like someone based off dress size or not looking like a completely different person with makeup is an idiot." He tells you. "Soft, warm and when they first wake up."

“How a person looks when they wake up is the purest version of them.” That’s something you’ve always believed, and you’re fully smiling again when you turn around to help him on with all of his new layers. “I can help with the rest.”

"Well, I would hate to embarrass a countryman of mine by improperly dressing." He jokes, happy that the smile on your face reaches your pretty eyes. His hand comes up and he rubs his jaw. "Do they prefer if I shave?" He asks.

“At the moment, Arthur is clean shaven. He thinks it makes him look younger.” Rolling your eyes slightly, you hold up the tunic for him to slip into. It’s longer than a standard shirt and therefore requires a little maneuvering. “You can use my knife if you want to shave.”

"I should probably do that before we dress me." He looks around. "Is there a mirror or should I beg milady to take pity on a fellow countryman and assist him in shaving?" He asks loftily, adopting a fake accept to make you smile again. He likes that smile when it's happy.

“Your countryman is very willing to help.” It makes you giggle, the silly little things, and the way you can relax around him. A looking glass is something you have no desire for since you still can’t stand your own reflection and they are extremely pricey items - but you’ve shaved Gareth on a few occasions and the small moments of intimacy have helped you hone the skill. From the table, you produce a delicate and extremely sharp, short bladed dagger. “We’ll get you a knife, too. There’s no utensils here. Just hands and knives to eat with. So everyone carries a knife.”

"I have a knife." He tells you. "In the pocket of my jeans." The pocket knife might not be the best form of protection to have but it was better than nothing when the pipe he had carried in LA didn't deter someone. He's a bit proud that he is able to contribute something for himself.

Curious, you dig into his pocket with the expectation of a Swiss Army knife of some kind and come out with a modern military-issue blade that is definitely sharp enough to shave with amongst other things. “Definitely keep this concealed.” You tell him, rolling it over in your hands. “Someone might want to steal it. Because it’s unique, I mean.”

“Oh, right.” He rolls his eyes at himself and pulls out his wallet. “I’m sure that I need to hide the wallet with my ID in it. Considering what they don’t have here.”

“I’ll take you into the village tomorrow and we can get you a trunk or a lockbox of some kind.” It’s far too late to go tonight. All the tradesmen will have closed up their stalls for the day and supping with Arthur is an hours-long affair when he’s in the mood to celebrate. “Oh shit.” You frown instantly. Celebrate. “You don’t…dance? Do you? By any chance?”

“Uh,” There is a slightly panicked look on Zach’s face. “I learned to dance for a buddy’s wedding, but just like- formal.” He doesn’t think you mean dancing like a club. “I’m sure it doesn’t translate to 5th century AD.”

“Remember how I said Guinevere loves manners?” You can’t help the way you cringe apologetically when he sits down on the edge of your trunk to let you get a better handle of shaving his face. “She loves dancing. The day I arrived, she asked me to show her a dance of my country.” Which had been her exact words, and you had been proud of yourself for not giggling. “So I’m positive she’ll ask you the same thing.”

“Okay.” Zach is rusty, but the steps were simple. “So I show her the waltz?” He asks softly.

You blow out a relieved breath and nod. “Yeah. That’s perfect.” The first small touch of your hand to his skin shouldn’t feel so good, and you remind yourself to focus. “I taught the minstrels a bunch of Elvis over the winter and Can’t Help Falling in Love is a perfect, short waltz.” It’s a hell of a lot better than you had come up with, but you were on the spot back then.

He huffs a laugh and cuts his eyes over at you. “Arthur must believe his bard is the most talented musician ever.” He knows that you are just trying to get by, and he doesn’t fault you for it, but it’s hilarious to think of Arthur and his Knight of the Round Table listening to Elvis before the man was ever born.

“It’s been my way to survive.” The blade against his skin is sleek and smooth, and beautiful in its own way. “I don’t take credit for writing most of it. And some of what he likes are my own songs.”

“I’m not faulting you for it at all.” He’s quick to assure you, not wanting to think he’s insulting. “If I could carry a tune? Shiiiiiitt.”

“It’s a good life.” Honestly, that’s a bit of an understatement, you think as you scrape the blade carefully along Zach’s jaw. “I have a good life here.”

“Do you miss home?” He asks softly, eyes closed in pleasure as you remove the hair from his jaw.

“I guess so? A little?” You sigh softly, concentrating on what’s in front of you. “Sometimes. Mostly I miss comforts. Indoor plumbing, pizza, Netflix. Things like that. But a world without COVID or the godforsaken state of American politics? No Puritanical Christianity? No blatant mistreatment of military vets by the institution that made them? Camelot is a lot closer to the paradise we read about in books than I ever thought it would be.”

Zach understands that, he really does. But he also has the very strong feeling that the two of you don’t belong here. “Who wouldn’t miss pizza?” He murmurs.

Your hands stop moving and you chew in your bottom lip for a second while you look at him. “Things are good here.” You repeat, a little bit to yourself as much as him.

He doesn't push, especially since neither of you know how to get back home. It wouldn't be a good thing to try to alienate a person from his own time that has been living here for nearly a year. Instead, he tilts his head back farther. "Thank you." He is quiet about thanking you, not wanting his throat to move too much while you are scraping a blade over it.

“Of course.” There’s not a single damn reason in the universe you wouldn’t help him. No one in the world understands each other better than the two of you right now because of one weird library book.

Zach feels as if he is starting fresh when you are gone. Rubbing his hand on his cheek, he gives you a grin. “Add a steamed towel on my face and you could charge $200.”

You chuckle a little and shake your head, offering him the towel again to wipe any soap remnants off his face. “Maybe if we ever do go back, I’ll go to beauty school. Just for you.”

He stands and looks at the other clothes. “Well, let’s play dress up.” He hums, holding up the outer layer of pants. “Always wanted to be a knight.”

He could be, with time and training, except for the part you completely respect about not wanting to kill anyone ever again. “Technically,” you throw him a smirk. “We’re dressing you up like a prince.”

“Wha—oh yeah.” He won’t begrudge you deciding that a technical prince is who you needed to have in your bed. “Gareth is Arthur’s nephew, right?”

“Arthur has six nephews and no legitimate heir.” Something you know all too well, both from Gareth and from the countless conversations you’ve sung alongside. The king has a penchant for using your singing as white noise that used to really irritate you, but you’ve gotten over it. “Agravain, Gaheris, Gareth, Gawain, Yvain, and Galeschin. All Knights of the Round Table.” Helping Zach on with his tunic, you step back a little and nod, pleased that the clothes all seem to fit him well. “No one has been crowned, though. There’s no official heir. I think Arthur is still holding out hope that the queen could carry a legitimate child before she gets too old.”

He huffs, shaking his head. “Good luck to him.” He ignores the pang of jealousy. “I’m literally the last living person in my family and doubt I will ever have kids the way my life was going.”

“Things are different here.” You remind him softly, hoping your hand on his arm isn’t taken as pitying when it’s meant as an offer of comfort. “We are whoever we want here. You can be whoever you want.”

It’s not his place to tell you that this isn’t where you belong, not with no clear way home. So he just nods and gives you grin. “I’m sure I will learn all about it. What was that movie when we were kids? A Kid in King Arthur’s’ Court?”

“I think about it every day.” The laugh that bubbles out of you is relaxed again. Happy. “I wish I had had some bubble gum in my pocket when I got here. I would have relived that Mad Dog Bubble Gum scene so fast.”

Zach snorts and bites his lip. “So what would you give if I had bubble gum?” He asks slyly. It was a trick he used sometimes when he could only have water. Chewing on gum would trick his body into thinking he was full for a while.

“Zach, you beautiful fucking human.” The utter childlike delight on your face is undeniable and you practically jump up and clap your hands. “Do you really? “

He laughs and nods to the pile of clothes he had stripped out of. “Look in the flannel shirt.” He tells you as he pulls on the borrowed pants.

The stack of clothes he arrived in is fairly untidy now, and it doesn’t take you long to locate the pack of Juicy Fruit with a few sticks missing. “Oh my god,” you giggle again, holding out up. “You really do. Oh, today is the best day.”

Zach grins, proud that he can provide you with some joy and a little taste of home. “What is mine is yours milady.” He tells you with a dramatic bow.

“Likewise, my lord.” The practiced curtsy you offer him is essentially second nature now, but it feels playful and silly here in your chambers as opposed to the seriousness that happens in the rest of the castle. “Surcoat next, and I promise you’ll be warm.”

He shrugs into the garment and realizes you weren’t lying. It is warm. Not in a stifling way, but the thick brocade is nice to ward off what is most assuredly a chilly night after the sun goes down.

You hum a little, stepping back to look at him once you’ve set the wider of the two belts around the outside of the surcoat and made the whole look complete. “You look…” It suits him. The whole thing suits him. Dignified and handsome in a whole different way than you had expected. “You look like a prince.” Not a borrowed one, not dressed up like one. He really does look it, through and through.

He snorts and gives you a grin while he widens his arms. “Just call me the Prince of Paupers.”

“Prince Zachariah is not an impossible thing to be.” You’ve only met one other man with the name since arriving - a kind of slightly too preach monk called Brother Zechariah - and it makes you glad that he won’t have to deal with any name confusion. “Boots, your Highness?” They’re the last thing for him to put on. Hopefully they’ll fit as well as the rest.

Zach comes back over and sits down so he can try the boots on. “Somehow, I doubt I would look as noble with my worn out Nikes on.”

“If Heath Ledger could pull off the Nike swish in A Knight’s Tale, you can too.” When was the last time you even made this many movie references? Let alone to someone who understands them?

“Heath Ledger, I am not.” He rolls his eyes even as he tucks his tongue in his cheek. “Although if I have to fight for anyone’s honor here, I expect the 5th century rendition of We Will Rock You to accompany me to the ring.”

You snort, smirk splitting your face in two. “Look me in the eye, your Highness, and tell me you don’t fully believe that I would get out there and introduce you like Paul Bettany in the lists while I teach the crowd how good a stomp-stomp-clap feels?”

“Are you going to walk down a road naked and spouting Chaucer too?” He hums playfully.

“I have done far more scandalous things in my day.” It was a hidden garden and Gareth hadn’t found it quite as amusing, but still.

“I’m sure our stories could make everyone in this kingdom either faint from shock or burn us for depravity.” Zach huffs, reminding himself that you are used to the causality of modern life, but these people are not. The boots are on his feet and they fit perfectly.

“Camelot is still way more in touch with its pagan side than history wants us to know.” Despite the sizable medieval cross necklace you’re wearing - which was itself a gift from Gareth at the new year. “Honestly, Zach?” Taking a step back, you cross your arms and appraise his appearance one more time. “You’ll blend right in, in the castle.”

“Until I open my mouth.” Zach tells you, rolling his eyes at himself. “Then it’s obvious I’m an outsider.” He doesn’t mind though, and he’s grateful for all your help. “Now I guess we find your Knight?” He asks cautiously, reminding himself that even though the two of you were getting along, you were with Gareth.

“I’ve already trained them to think Americans are charming in their weirdness.” It had been easier, when you arrived, to just admit you were from somewhere else and your customs were different, then to try to blend in and fail. But he has a point - he needs to learn the castle and meet people. Not just stay here and talk to you. “It’s almost supper.” The darkened sky tells you so. “We should go to the Great Hall. Gareth might already be there.”

Zach offers you his hand again like before and you take it, making him again marvel at how warm and soft you are. “Then show me to the great hall milady.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf

Once...: @raisonppascxl @skvatnavle @luminescentlily @lowlights

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[coffeecatsandcandles]

𝐖𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧

Chapter III | Series Masterlist

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐕- 𝐈 𝐆𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐬

➵ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | bucky barnes x reader

➵ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3k

➵ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Abduction, reader gets badly hurt, hydra, mentions of death and violence. Featuring Nat, Tony, and Bruce.

დ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | დ 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | დ 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢

You woke up on the floor of the room with a jolt, taking a moment to remember where you were and what had just happened. You looked around, remembering that Rebecca was gone. Your baby was gone.

Fighting tears, you ran out of the office, out of the building, and onto the streets of Brooklyn, frantically asking strangers if they’d seen your baby. Your baby was missing. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that you looked absolutely insane. Screaming swears at the top of your lungs, you ran back into the building in hysterics, every employee you’d gotten to know- even befriended- now missing. It was all a front. It was all a disguise. They wanted information out of you about Bucky and Steve, and they took your baby. They weren’t ever your friends. They were the enemy.

Spotting two built men in military vests, you went against your better judgements and bolted towards them, ready to fight them with every fiber in you. “You sons of bitches! Where’s my daughter?” you screamed, punching their chests hoping they’d feel just an ounce of the pain you were feeling. But they didn’t budge, them being over twice your size. They grabbed you as you kicked and screamed, forcefully carrying you to what you at first believed was Hugh’s office, but the guards hit buttons hidden underneath Hugh’s desk and the bookshelf behind it opened to reveal a hidden laboratory. All of your former coworkers, people you thought were your friends, walking around and filing reports or holding down screaming patients as they injected them with something.

Your eyes skimmed the laboratory for your baby. But Rebecca was nowhere in sight. The men shoved you onto an operating table and you continued to scream for help, not looking any different than the other patients surrounding you. The more you looked at them, the more you realized that they were some of the homeless veterans you’d helped in the past. God, this place was pure evil. “Quiet, hündin!” One of them said in a heavy German accent as he stuck a needle to your neck, sedating you.

Whatever they injected you with, it began working immediately. Your muscles slumped, your screams died down, and though your mind was still racing, you could no longer emote. You were stuck in this emotionless state, your thoughts screaming in your head with no chance of getting out.

You spotted Hugh approaching you as he showed a slick, evil smile. “Mrs. Barnes, we’re building an army of our own. And you’re a part of it, meine geliebte.” You could’ve sworn you were going to pass out right there, but Hugh had another thing in mind. The guards took out another vial and needle, a shining blue substance, and flicked it to get the air bubbles out. You wanted to scream even more, or even spit at them. But the sedatives turned you into a slump of a human. They injected you as you hyperventilated through your nose, your mouth unable to open. There was barely enough energy in you to keep your eyes open, but they were too busy continuing to skim the room for Rebecca.

Your blood felt as if it were boiling, your senses felt heightened, like you could feel and hear your blood rushing through your body. At that point, you weren’t sure if it was because of the adrenaline trying to come back to you, or because of whatever was in that vial.

“We’ll be seeing you soon, Mrs. Barnes.” Hugh said as the guards lifted you up, taking you to another corner of the room with a massive chamber. The second your skin touched it, you would’ve retreated back and shivered if you had the energy to. The chamber was freezing, and you tried with everything you had in you to move out of their hold, but whatever sedative they used on you was strong. They strapped you in, and it was only then that you could muster up a few groans in protest. Your back couldn’t retreat back at the cold touch of the chamber against it.

Before shutting the chamber doors, Hugh leaned close to you, his mouth just inches away from your ear. “Hail HYDRA.” He said, his voice venomous as the guards closed the chamber doors and you were overcome by the feeling of ice on your skin.

2014

“She look familiar or something, Cap?” Natasha inquired as Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Your unconscious body thawed on the operating table as Bruce drew your blood, planning to take it to the lab for testing later.

“Probably some dame he courted back in the day,” Tony joked.

“I do know her.” He said, causing Natasha and Tony to stop in their tracks.

It was supposed to be like any other rescue mission. They’d take on the guards, rescue the hostages, and move on. Steve had done it hundreds of times in his three years since coming off the ice. There had been reports of suspicious activity in an abandoned building on the outskirts of Brooklyn. Steve’s home.

He was filled with regret and heartache when he woke up, in 2011 rather than 1946, and everyone he’d ever known was surely dead. It was a culture shock, the new world being too different for him to handle at first. He remembered the first things that came to his mind the second he woke up.

Where the hell am I?

How did this happen?

Where’s Peggy?

Where’s Becca?

He needed to find you and tell you he was okay. That he didn’t leave you and Becca behind. But when he discovered it’d been 65 years since he saw you last, he figured you were long dead. He didn’t stop searching for Rebecca. He couldn’t sleep unless he knew exactly what happened to you; if you’d lived a long life with Rebecca, if you’d remarried, or if something terrible happened while he was gone.

He hoped it wasn’t the latter, but after three years of digging and tracing back your every move, his worst fears became true. Rebecca had been taken from you. You were frozen by HYDRA, a victim of their plan to keep building.

He’d learned that shortly after you’d been frozen, the US Army had infiltrated the HYDRA lab, rescuing the patients that had survived and arresting the guards and scientists. He’d learned that Rebecca was completely unharmed when the Army found her, and she was put into the foster system after you were unable to become conscious again after your first attempt at being thawed. You were being preserved, still under ice (with many failed attempts to revive you), at an Army base until 1979, when that base was infiltrated by HYDRA copycats.

You were thawed successfully once in the 1980s by HYDRA, in an attempt to assassinate a major American political figure. But they failed in brainwashing you. You had no memory of this.

Now, in 2014, you’d been rescued from the HYDRA lair by the Avengers. Captain Steve Rogers, otherwise known as Captain America, Tony Stark- son of Howard Stark- Iron Man; Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow; and Dr. Bruce Banner, Hulk. They’d found you with a faint pulse, and brought you back to the Compound, attempting to safely thaw you.

“She was my best friend,” Steve added.

“I thought that Bucky guy was your best friend,” Natasha said.

“You can have more than one best friend,” Bruce nervously attested.

“No you can’t.” Natasha said. This was an argument only children would have, but it seemed, if only for a few minutes, that they were as naïve as children. None of them knew what to do in this situation. They barely had the patience to listen to Steve’s stories from back in the 1940s, and now here you were, someone he knew from that time. And who knew the hell you’d been through?

“She was married to Bucky, I’m her daughter’s godfather.”

“Oh shit,” Tony muttered, completely surprised. You weren’t just some woman Steve might’ve dated back in the day. You meant more to Steve than that. This was a layer of Steve’s life the team knew nothing about.

“I have to be there when she wakes up.”

“Cap, that’s a bad idea. She needs time to process, she thinks you’re dead. You being there will just freak her out.” Tony said.

Natasha placed her hand on Steve’s shoulder. “He has a point, Steve. You’ll be there for her eventually. She’ll just need some time.”

“She’s in good hands, Cap. There’s no need to worry.” Bruce added.

Steve looked at you. Your face was unfittingly calm, your lips were a shade darker from the cold, and he spotted a few ice flakes on your eyelashes. His heart hurt for you.

You eventually woke up, many hours later after everyone but Bruce had left. “Good morning, sunshine.” Bruce said, “Sorry, I thought long and hard about that one. I didn’t mean for that to sound the way it did.”

You tried to speak, but your voice was hoarse. The last thing you remembered clearly was the HYDRA agents strapping you into the chamber and being unable to move or scream.

“You’re at the Avengers Compound, my name is Dr. Bruce Banner. I know this is probably very upsetting, but I can assure you, you’re safe now.”

You looked around, spotting fancy equipment and technology that you’d never seen before. “Rebecca,” you finally said, “where’s Rebecca.”

Bruce fiddled with his hands, looking through the file Natasha and Steve helped make for you. “Mrs. Barnes-“

“Please don’t call me that,” you said, remembering the last person to call you Mrs. Barnes. Not only that, but it also reminded you too much of Bucky.

Bruce corrected himself, calling you by your first name instead. “It’s the year 2014. I don’t know exactly where your daughter is, but in your file it says she was adopted in 1946. She’s okay.”

You did the math in your head. It’d been 68 years. You hoped she was still okay, though she definitely had no memory of you, Bucky, or Steve. You slowly sat up, Bruce helping you. Your head started pounding and your ears started ringing. Rebecca lived her whole life without you. She grew up without your care, without knowing how deeply and how passionately you, Bucky, Steve, and Peggy loved her.

Peggy. She crossed your mind in those few seconds; you wondered what she was up to, if she was even still alive.

“It’s alright. I know this is a lot to take in. But after running some blood tests, I found that some time ago, you were injected with a similar serum that SHIELD gave Steve Rogers. Whenever you’re ready- and you can take as much time as you need- I would like to run some more tests on your abilities.”

“Abilities?” you asked.

“Many people here have different abilities- you should see what happens to me,” Bruce joked, causing you to tilt your head in confusion.

“Where am I going to sleep? Where am I going to live?” You asked.

“There’s a unit you are welcome to stay in for the time being.”

You nodded, thinking. Your mind was jumbled, and you couldn’t form a cohesive thought to save your life. But you managed to continue speaking. “I can do some tests. I just need a few days. And a bath.”

Bruce lightly laughed. “Of course. And there’s something else you should know-“

“What? You’ve actually been pulling my leg and it’s still 1946?” you joked, a little too hopeful.

Bruce gave you a sad smile as he helped you off of the table. “Not exactly.”

Your room was undecorated, with nothing but a simple bed, desk, and dresser. Sitting on your bed, you let out the tears you’d been holding in for decades. The world around you was foreign. You were grateful the Compound was in a more isolated area. You might’ve lost your mind if you looked out the window and saw a busy city. The sight of a field of grass and a long road was so simple, but it meant so much to you. The only thing that looked out of the ordinary was an automobile parked out front, way too high-tech looking to belong to your generation.

There was a knock at your door, and you quickly wiped up your tears and let out a soft “Come in.”

The door opened, and you were greeted by none other than Steve Rogers. Your head started spinning again, and you were sure you’d pass out at the sight of him. He was still broad, still towering over you, but still the same Steve you knew from decades ago.

“Steve?” you asked, your voice soft and hoping your mind- or whatever new technology this year had to offer- wasn’t playing tricks on you.

“You’re alive.” He stated quietly, not sure what else to say or even how to act. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, but he wanted more than anything right now to scoop you up and hug you, letting you know how grateful he was that you were okay.

“You’re alive!” you said. Slowly, you gave in and hugged him. It was long and extremely needed.

“And you’re a super soldier,” he said, “who would’ve thought?”

“I thought you were dead.” You stated, not letting go of him just yet.

“I read about everything that happened. I want you to know that I did all the research, I’ve spend the last three years looking for her. Rebecca is alright. She’s alright.”

“You know where she is?”

“Not really, I only found her adoption records and her new name. I don’t know if she’s in New York or if she left. But I didn’t find an obituary or anything, she’s still alive. Rebecca Proctor.”

Your baby wasn’t a baby anymore. She was approaching her seventies, an old lady who’d experienced every aspect of life you wanted to help her through. You wondered if she had children, or even grandchildren.

Steve told everyone on your behalf that you would need a few days to cope. A few days to walk around the city, to get used to the new world, was needed. There was talk of you even going on missions with the team as a new recruit; you weren’t sure how to feel about that. You didn’t want to fight, but with these new supposed abilities, you felt like you were needed.

You and Steve traveled to Brooklyn, and though you were very overwhelmed by the crowds of people, Steve assured you that you were safe with him. There were still restaurants and stores that you recognized. An old sandwich shop you remembered was owned by a curly-haired, lanky man with dark, rugged features was now owned by someone who was a spitting image of him, no doubt his son or grandson. It was still an entirely new world, but it still oddly felt like home. The ice cream place you and Bucky went on your second date was replaced by a store that sold fragrant soaps and perfumes. You nearly stopped in your tracks and left your jaw on the floor when Steve took you to your old apartment building. It was completely renovated, the old rickety metal stairs visibly more sturdy and the residents all mindlessly scrolling on their cell phone screens instead of interacting with neighbors like you used to. Looking over at the two doors you remembered to be yours on the top floor and Bucky’s on the bottom, you spotted four young women, no older than twenty-two, laughing as they walked up the stairs to your old unit. Underneath, in Bucky’s old unit, there was a balding man in a white tank top and sporting a thick mustache smoking a cigarette.

“I think I need a drink,” you admitted, mentally exhausted from the exposure.

“I hate to break it to you, but super soldiers can’t get drunk.” Steve said, “Plus, you have a blood test coming up. How about a coffee?”

“That’ll do,” you said, the sadness evident in your voice.

Even the coffee shop was overwhelming, all the different flavors on the menu, the people at tables behind you on their computers, the music that was just a little too loud for your liking. Caffeine wasn’t going to help you in this moment, it would only ignite the flame that was your anxiety, but Steve got you one anyway, a regular coffee with a little bit of milk and sugar.

You weren’t used to seeing Steve like this. When you were first starting to date Bucky, Steve seemed to want to be anywhere that wasn’t near the two of you. After having Rebecca, you grew a little closer, him being the only other man Bucky trusted to take proper care of you and his daughter. After all, you did agree to make him her godfather. When he was all you had was when you started to get closer. He’d talk about his feelings for Peggy, tell you things about himself you didn’t even think to ask, and held you while you cried for Bucky. You’d both moved back into your old apartments when you returned to Brooklyn after Europe, Steve telling you that he would be able to hear you if you needed him and he’d be up the stairs in a matter of seconds. The amount of times you knocked on his door, crying because you hated that you were sleeping in your bed alone, was too high to count. He was so patient with you, understanding the pain that you were in and wanting to make you feel better.

With Steve in this new world with you, though you still had a lot of questions and concerns, you felt a sense of peace. Your mind had quieted down and you were able to focus more on rationalizing and thinking of positives rather than worrying and being on the verge of tears yet again. For a few moments, you were okay.

Then all hell seemed to break loose in your mind when you heard the barista call “Earl grey tea for Rebecca.”

-

⁂ taglist:

@jackiehollanderr @5sos-imagine @mercurial-make-em-ups @harrypotteranna23-blog @friendlyneighbourhoodgothicpagan @whatinthestyles @bucketstark @oh-my-gerd @sdevorax @supernatural-lover @blossomedfloweroflove @shesakillerkween @thefandomplace

[switchbladedreamz]

Home

Gonna say Sy's first name is gonna be Lucas/Luke

Captain Syverson x Fem!reader, fluuuuuuuffff

I'm from Oklahoma, and this is how we talk, and it's how Texans talk. I see authors trying their best to capture the southern vernacular and I applaud you- y'all're welcome to use this as a guide.

Apostrophes and italics: 'hnnngh' is thoughts. Regular dialogue uses the usual quotations " "

Spoiler: reader nor Sy like children.

Summary : Sy and reader served together, she enlisted bc she was kicked out of her home. When for the first time in four years she's off duty, she asks her captain if he knows somewhere she can stay since until she finds one in her own state, she doesn't wanna stay in Texas for too long. She's an Oklahoman, and as every Okie will tell ya for no reason Texas is stupid.

A/N: we are born with a slight hatred of Texas in our blood for some reason.

Homelessness among Veterans isn't something to joke about, if you would like to help go to www.woundedwarriorproject.org/veterans/charity

***I, the author, do not consent to stealing, plagiarism, or posting any of my work anywhere unless done so by myself***

Luke woke with a grunt as he heard his bedroom door open and a voice cooing to him. "Hey sleepyhead, I made your bean soup, please wake up". Rubbing the sleep and sandman trails put of his eyes- he rolled over looking at the owner of said voice. "The fuck is bean soup?" The baritone of his voice lower due to sleep, "bean soup?" He grumbled in a whisper.

"Coffee. Up. Please. I'm bored.". He smiled and finally sat up. He caught the way his friend was trying to secretly look at his torso. So he decided to stretch his arms above him and lean back at the same time, a yawn escaping. 'Damn that felt good' he thought to himself but when his eyes opened she was gone, though he could hear her piddlin around in the kitchen. He slipped a shirt and some shorts on to meander his way to the kitchen. "Mmh. Bacon, thank you but you don't have to cook (Y/n)". She looked up at him with the most genuine emotion in her eyes.

"I really wanna thank you sir. If it wasn't for you offering your place, I'd probably end up being another statistic." His heart clenched, he could see her fighting back tears as she flipped the bacon in the pan. "Hey now, its Luke or Sy. Not sir, not when we're home, on American soil. And you don't have to thank me. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, kid. You've literally taken two bullets for me. I'll help ya find a nice place, maybe here in Texas" he prodded. He'd grown fond of his second in command these past few weeks. And everyday she cooked, helped clean, offered to pay for anything and everything. It was getting on his nerves but in a good way. She rolled her eyes when he mentioned her living in Texas. "Sir- I mean Sy... how do you like your eggs?" Evasive maneuvers, that's how the morning is going to go, alright then. A grunt left him, "over medium darlin" "you got it hun".

To city slickers, they would think that these two attractive adults are flirting, but that's really how southerners talk. They can't speak a word without a pet name in the sentence.

"Damn it woman, can't you just shut up and let me tell you how great this state is?" Sy was driving, (Y/n) in the passenger seat. She was laughing her ass off. "Look, I can't (pronounced like "cane-t") help it is okies are born with a hatred for Texas." "Well that ain't my fuckin problem, now listen. Oklahoma is shit, it's the last in education, in the top 5 for allergies, and all your favorite musicians come to Texas." "That's all you got, ain't it?". As he slows and stops to a red light he looks out the window for a beat, turns back to her and starts laughing. "Yes ma'am, that's all I got". Her laughter turned from giggles to uproarious, him joining her. The neighboring Subaru driver looked at them with disdain. That didn't help the case either. He turned into your favorite ice cream place, "I've had the gourmet shit across the pond, and the fancy shit here. But fuck don't nothin taste better than Braum's. The taste of home.".

P.o.v. switching

I smiled. This man is my best friend. "Honestly, though." I replied, holding the door open for him. He lifted his arm above my head onto the door, essentially jutting his giant armpit in my face- "After you". I refused and stood my ground. "No no, I insist. Ladies first" i smiled. He just shoved me through the door "girl if you don't get your butt in there". More giggles from us. It was noon on a Sunday so of course it was busy. "Damn this place is packed, we can go somewhere else-" I spoke, "nonsense, I love this place too. We can wait out these old folks and the kids.." after he said that a kid screamed. Which led to a horrendous domino effect of seemingly every infant and toddler screaming. "Nope" we said in unison and turned around.

Sy couldn't sleep. He had tossed and turned but the memories were getting bad. He was sweating. He had tried his grounding techniques, a cold shower, breathing techniques, it didn't help. It was difficult. His door creaked softly, Luke reacted quickly by grabbing the gun under his opposite pillow and aimed. "At ease hun. Just me. Your tossing and turning kept me up..." she trailed off but he could see the sweat and the way her chest was heaving though she tried to calm down- to hide it. "May...may I?" She queried, pointing to the opposite side of the bed. He stared at her for a few seconds too long and she let out a nervous laugh and turned around. "Wait. Yes. You may. I'll put this in the nightstand.". Meaning the gun, she smiled softly and nodded in acknowledgment. She crawled into his white sheets, nestled her head on his navy blue pillow and under the blue and white comforter.

P.o.v. switching

By the Gods did his sheets smell nice, he smells nice. Like a human should, not dirty and perspiring like a whore in church. (Its a common phrase here, I'm not slut shaming). I couldn't sleep either, the pharmacy wouldn't have my meds for another week. I would be lieing if I said I hadn't thoroughly enjoyed my time here. Its clean, homey, the guest room is nice and cozy. And I think I want to live here. 'What the fuck was that? What did I just say? Yeah totally gonna file that away for now. It's not like I like-like him or anything. Skipping over that too' I looked over at Syv- Luke, nope that's weird, Syverson. He was staring at the ceiling. "Well this totally isn't awkward with us both laying like boards. We're adults. And adults can sleep in the same bed and uh.. yeah." "Yeah..." he agreed. Well at least we're on the same page. "So..can't sleep". A very exasperated sigh was what I was met with for an answer.

"Right". "Wish you weren't so fuckin awkward bud" "Me too Sy. Me too".

"Just memories is all." "Same here. Heh."

A pregnant pause interjected itself between us. Until he rolled over to face me. He smacked his lips "nevermind" and rolled back on to his back. Oh hell no, I hate that. "What?" I asked and rolled to my side. "What?" He asked. This mother... "Don't "what" me, I asked first what were you gonna say?". He didn't answer. "Come on, that's like my second biggest pet peeve. What is it?".

"Would you want to move in with me?". Woah. Okay. This is happening fast, did he read my thoughts? I think I took too long to answer. He grumbled, always grumbling, this one. "If you're offering. Yeah I wouldn't mind. What made it cross your mind?". "Well i like having you around, I'm not suggesting anything other than being roommates. I mean you help keep the place up, and you're a good house guest. And with wages going up, that means the cost of living is going to up and it'd be alright to have this place to split with someone. And you're not a civilian per se-" "uh oh you're using fancy words there cap", he chuckled "fuck off. What I'm saying is, we get each other, we get along great and we know how to handle it if we have a ptsd induced panic attack.". "Wow. Woah, okay. So this is serious, yeah of course. Thank you." I scooch closer to hug him. And then the dam breaks and I start crying.

He just soothes me, "it's okay darlin, I know, I know. You're home".

A home. I haven't had one in years. I'm home.

[imtryingmybeskar]

Day Twenty of Steph's Christmas Writing Challenge.

This is my first time writing for Zach. Just a little meet-cute thing.

Zach Wellison X plus size F! Reader. Mentions of food and homelessness and some flirting off the bat. Word count: 852

Mistletoe

The first time Zach saw you, it felt as if the air had been driven from his lungs. A celestial being, bathed in the soft white glow of the fairy lights that you were winding through the branches of the Christmas tree. Your hair - buoyant and beautiful, your skin - radiant and smooth, the swell of your breasts and stomach -so soft, so curvaceous. And your legs! The shapely curves of your calves encased within the brightly glittering green nylon of your tights and leading up toward the gorgeous expanse of your thighs, currently covered by the material of your brightly coloured Christmas dress. He knew he was staring, but couldn't bring himself to look away, not even to blink, in case the vision in front of him would turn out to be a mirage.

"Ummm...a little help, please?" came the voice of the celestial vision, and Zach snapped himself out of it.

"Oh yeah...sorry," he muttered, feeling silly as he came to hold the tree and ensure it didn't trap you any more than it currently was.

"It's okay," you grinned, "I know the dress is a little distracting!"

Zach rarely suffered from embarrassment. When you had lived on the streets for as long as he had, your pride tended to take a hit. And even though he was now in a little place of his own, with a steady job and living what could conceivably called a "normal" life, some things tended to stick when you had the experiences he did under his belt. Still, he felt his face flush with heat at your words. You had seen him staring. Like some creepy pervert.

He was about to apologise when you added "A Christmas tree dress with actual baubles on? I had to have it. Even if they do sometimes fall off!" You finished arranging the lights to your liking and stepped back. "What do you think?" you asked.

"It's beautiful," Zach replied. "Very festive. The glitter is pretty and your baubles are-"

"I um...I meant the lights on the tree," you interjected. "But please, tell me more about what you think of my baubles!"

The playful tone of your voice coupled with the cheeky smile that spread across your face were almost enough to make him hard there and then but he fought his bodily urges and gave an embarrassed chuckle instead. "The lights are great," he managed. "Did you decorate all of this?"

You nodded, smiling. "I used to volunteer for another charity for homeless people in the last city I lived in and I always wanted to make Christmas as good as it could be. I'm grateful that they've given me a free rein to do what I want here too! And 'll be making some Christmas dishes throughout December, so if you like stuffing and pigs in blankets, I'm your gal!"

"I mean, who doesn't like Christmas food?" Zach asked.

"Right?!" you replied. "So...um...do you volunteer here too?"

Zach could feel it. The retreat. The closing off. It was something he had spoken to his therapist about at length. The desire to compartmentalise his entire experience of being on the street. Pretend it had never existed. As if he could only be whole again if it was no longer a part of him. He had to be brave - he was a decorated war veteran for heaven's sake, the thought of telling someone that he did indeed volunteer here because at one time he had relied heavily on this place shouldn't grip his stomach with icy terror the way it was now. Then again, he'd never told anyone that he was attracted to about his past - hadn't actually been attracted to anyone like this for years.

He had hesitated too long and you were talking again. "Hey, forget it. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be nosy-"

"No, no," Zach interjected. "You weren't being nosy. It's just a...complicated issue." You accepted that readily with a nod of your head and Zach ploughed ahead before he lost his nerve. "Maybe...we could talk about it? Over dinner? That is...if you want to. And...you're single. And...not too busy with Christmas stuff-"

"I'd love to," you said, stopping his words with yours before he had a chance to talk himself out of it. "And um..." You looked suddenly shy and Zach found himself fighting his urges again, this time to sweep you into his arms and kiss you. Something which was made even more difficult when he followed the path of where your finger was pointing directly above his head. He looked back at you with a cheeky half grin of his own. "I debated even putting it up at all," you said, taking a step closer to him. "Didn't seem like the kind of thing we should have here. But I'm glad I did. That is...if you want..." Your words trailed into silence as Zach pressed his lips against yours, chastely, softly, his desire for more tempered with the knowledge that you two had all the time in the world.

Day Twenty One

Taglist - @thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16

[storiesforallfandoms]

too good ~ tommy shelby; peaky blinders

word count: 1625

request?: yes

@pachuh​ “Hello, can i request a tommy shelby x wife reader or sister reader with all of the shelbys, whatever you prefer, in which the reader is extremely kind, caring, always smiles and helps everyone in the family and people keep telling tommy how is she with him/how is she part of the family and he gets mad or self conscious idk you take it from there🙃 thanks! Sorry if its so specific”

description: in which tommy’s wife is much different than he is, and it gets to his head

pairing: thomas shelby x female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

Tommy watched as his beautiful wife served drinks to her adoring customers. He couldn’t blame them, she was the most beautiful and sweetest woman in all of London. She always had a smile on her face, very little ever upset her. Not even the work of the Peaky Blinders. She was a beautiful woman with a heart of gold, and everyone could see that. There was no surprise that the nights she was bartending the Garrison was full of men who came just to see her smile.

For once, Tommy didn’t feel jealous of the way those men looked at her. At one point, he would’ve killed any man that even looked at his woman the way these men looked at her, but (Y/N) was different. She was true, loyal. She had love in her heart for one man, and he was lucky enough to be that man.

As if feeling his eyes on her, (Y/N) glanced at him across the pub. He smiled brightly and raised his glass to her. She smiled back and winked at him before getting back to work.

“Some woman you got there, Tommy,” commented a man as he sat across from Tommy. He was a regular at the bar recently, his name was Henry or something. Always managed to get (Y/N) laughing.

Okay, maybe Tommy was a little jealous.

“She’s one of a kind,” Tommy agreed, not even trying to hold back the glare he was giving Henry.

“I heard she was down helping the homeless Veterans or something today,” he continued. “Heart of gold, that one.”

Tommy just nodded, glaring over his glass as he took a swig. What did this slimy fucker want?

“Wonder what she sees in you, ay?” Henry questioned. “She’s the polar opposite of you and your family, after all. She actually has a heart, a good one too. She cares so much about everybody. What does a good woman like her see in an evil git like you?”

Tommy jumped up before he could stop himself and grabbed Henry’s collar, his fist raised to hit the man. Before he could swing, (Y/N) raced over to the two men and grabbed her husband’s raised fist.

“Okay you two, that’s enough!” she exclaimed. “Honey, let Henry go.”

Tommy was shaking in anger, but he couldn’t beat this shit out of this waste of space in front of his loving wife. Not when she was looking at him with those beautiful, innocent eyes that he loved so much.

He shoved Henry away, nearly knocking the man over. “Fuck off.”

Henry looked between Tommy and (Y/N), who was also giving him a disapproving look. He huffed at Tommy, fixing his collar before leaving. (Y/N) turned to Tommy, putting a hand on his arm. “Are you okay, love?”

“Fine,” Tommy responded coolly, shrugging her hand off of him. “I’ll see you at home.”

(Y/N) watched as her husband stomped out of the bar, confused and hurt by his tone. But she didn’t have time to go after him, she was the only barmaid currently working and she had plenty of customers waiting to be served. She sighed, putting back on her signature smile and continued on with work.

~~~~~~

(Y/N) arrived home late that night. All the lights in the house were off, except for the dim flickering light of a candle in the living room. When she entered, she saw her husband sitting on the couch with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. Not his first glass, judging by the nearly empty bottle sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

Tommy didn’t even look up as (Y/N) entered. That’s how she knew something was really wrong. Even when Tommy was having a bad day, he always greeted (Y/N) with a kiss, on particularly hard days he’d just hug her without a word. He wasn’t even acknowledging her existence right now.

Ignoring the slight annoyance and frustration that was bubbling inside of her, (Y/N) crossed into the living room and picked up the bottle of whiskey to get rid of it. Suddenly, Tommy leaned forward and grabbed her wrist.

“Leave it, I want to finish it,” he half slurred. (Y/N) crinkled her nose in disgust at the smell of alcohol on his breath. She thought she’d be used to it from working at the Garrison for so long, but there was just something different about when Tommy reeked of alcohol.

“I think you’ve had enough, love,” (Y/N) told him in a gentle voice.

Tommy rolled his eyes, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “My loving wife thinking about what’s best for me as always.”

(Y/N) looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Did I do something to offend you, Tommy?”

Tommy ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. “No, no, no, of course you didn’t. You could never do anything to offend me. You’re so bloody perfect, you could never offend anyone.”

Now (Y/N) was very confused. She sat down next to her husband on the couch. He looked away from her, not wanting her to see how he was feeling on his face.

“What happened at the pub earlier, Tommy?” she asked him. “I know this all has something to do with that, what did Henry say or do to make you so angry?”

Tommy didn’t want to think about that fuck face. Just hearing (Y/N) say his name made Tommy want to go looking for Henry and finish what he didn’t even get the chance to start back at the bar.

It wasn’t just how Henry looked at (Y/N) and how he spoke of her that made Tommy angry. It was the fact that Tommy knew that he was right. Everyone had said it to him his entire relationship with (Y/N). Even his Aunt Polly had made a comment about the juxtaposition between (Y/N) and Tommy.

“She’s such a sweet angel, Thomas. She’s the exact opposite of us, how did you trick her into joining this family?”

And Tommy knew that everyone who made those comments were right. (Y/N) was the sweetest person he had ever met. She was the polar opposite of Tommy. He didn’t even understand what (Y/N) saw in him. Every day he worried that she would finally realize she could do so much better than him, that she could find a man who was the same as her, and would leave Tommy.

(Y/N) took Tommy’s hand in hers, making him finally look at her. “Tommy, you can tell me what happened. I want to know what Henry said that made you this upset.”

Tommy sighed heavily. He had never told (Y/N) any of this before. But she deserved to know. It was wrong of him to revert back to his old ways of bottling everything up and trying to drown his sorrows in alcohol.

“He told me that you’re too good for me, called me an evil git and asked how a woman like you ended up with a man like me,” he finally said after a prolonged silence. “I’ve heard it a lot since we’ve gotten married, from many different people. Hearing it today, I just snapped. If you hadn’t intervened I probably would have beaten that fucker within an inch of his life, which would’ve just proven his point.”

(Y/N) looked at Tommy in shock. She couldn’t believe anyone would have the guts to say that to Thomas Shelby. Of course, long before they were wed, (Y/N) was well aware of who Thomas Shelby was, and who the Peaky Blinders were. That would intimidate anyone, but it didn’t intimidate her. She treated Tommy the way she treated everyone else, with a genuine smile on her face and an attitude that would make even the saddest dope smile. Tommy always said that’s what attracted him to her.

She cupped Tommy’s cheek in her hand, making him look at her. “You know that’s not true, right? There’s no way that I’m ‘too good’ for you, Tommy. What other people say about us, about our relationship, means nothing. All that matters is you and me, and I love you more than anything in this world and nothing will change that.”

Tommy pulled away from her, standing up and pacing around the room. “You don’t understand, (Y/N), I am a bad man. I’ve done bad things, things that you have even witnessed. You’re so much different than I am, you’re so good. You’re too good. You should be with someone who is good like you, not a bad man like me.”

(Y/N) quickly stood up and stopped Tommy, cupping his face with both hands and forcing him to look at her again. “Maybe I should be, but I don’t want to be with someone like me. I want to be with you, Thomas Shelby. You may think you’re bad, but I think you’re amazing. You’re smart, and you’re caring for your family, and you’re so protective over them as well. You do what you have to do to make money, I’ll never judge you for that. I don’t want to be with anyone else, I want you Tommy. Only you.”

A smile came across Tommy’s face. (Y/N) pulled his face closer and pressed her lips to his. Tommy relaxed into her kiss, holding her close to him and never wanting to let her go.

“I’ll fucking kill Henry if I see him at the pub tomorrow,” Tommy mumbled against her lips.

(Y/N) giggled and responded, “I’ll be sure to look the other way.”

[waytoomuchfanfiction]

Always Look on the Bright Side of Life

Author:  Alainne1

Fandom: One Piece

Details: 120k | Mature | Complete | Roronoa Zoro x Sanji | Nami x Usopp | Monkey D. Luffy x Trafalgar Law

Primary Tags/Warnings: Modern AU | Multiple POV | Heavy Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Implied/Referenced Rape | Homelessness | PTSD | Getting Together | Slow Burn | Angst with a Happy Ending | Platonic Love/Affection | Sexual Content

Summary: Sometimes life can be a bitch and when that happens, you need good friends more than ever. Because, you know, it's always darkest when you're alone.

AU. Set in the damp and dirty streets of Water 7 where people survive on whatever they have and fight to thrive, where crime and violence have become part of everyday life, and where everyone has their baggage to carry. This story has six main characters: Nami, who has been forced to work as a prostitute since her childhood; Zoro, a war veteran who just returned from Iraq and the memories of the war are still haunting him; Usopp, who hasn't seen a decent meal since he was kicked out of the orphanage; Law and Sanji, whose line of work is better kept away from the daylight; and Luffy, who in the middle of all this still finds reasons to be happy. The stories of these six people will get tangled together as they fight against the darkness surrounding their lives and their city.

Link

Readers Overall: There is a lot going on in this story. Multiple pairings with the primary being ZoSan but all of them are detailed. Please mind the tags, there are a lot of sensitive topics. This fic is really good though and I like how the the author builds the dynamics between not just the main pairings but all of the characters. Dark but with those good feels at the end of the day. 

Readers tbh

Oof. Okay. Where to start. There are a lot of warning to this story so it looks terrifying haha. Generally it was pretty straight forward in an odd way. Like, there is a lot of horrible things but the characters, generally, move forward. Friendship and support is a big thing in this story which I think is why I liked it so much. 

I adore the relationship between Zoro and Nami here as they are my favorite Best Friends pairing in OP haha. Wholesome. Like, legitamently wholesome and all the feels.

This is a dark fic but still triumphantly taking down the bad guy. I wasn’t actually expecting the whole bad guy thing and it added a good level of depth to this fic. It starts kinda slow but picks up after a while. 

Hmmm hmm. So this isn’t the most~ intricate writing, fairly to the point but it wasn’t off putting. There’s some random stuff here and there I don’t think the author really needed but eh. I’m a picky bitch sometimes ahaha. Overall I like this story. 

[valkyrieofsmutlist]

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

@valkyrieofsmut‘s Bucky Barnes Masterlist!

My Masterlist is one of the first things I posted, and now it’s too far away to update! So here’s some more Bucky!          More Smut

Series

Never got over you (Complete!)  (Y/n), a physical trainer at the gym she worked so hard to lose her extra weight at after high school, and Bucky, a veteran sent home after losing his arm, are put in an uncomfortable situation; they are now housemates. Problem 1: they don’t like each other. Problem 2: the sexual tension between them keeps building. Problem 3: things keep pushing them together when they try to stay apart. Problem 4: they keep fantasizing about each other in ways that are definitely not helping the sexual tension. Problem 5: they’re not sure what it is, yet, but it’s sure to be as bad as the others.

Love, recorded (Complete!)  Ellie and Bucky have been friends for forever, they hang out together, work through the same temp agency, and live together, too! Everything is great, until they can’t pay rent. Now they’ll be homeless together, too. Bucky knows it’s not fair to ask Ellie to become a cam girl, performing erotic acts for money, to pay the rent, but they may have no other option. Hopefully they’ll be able to make rent before feelings for their best friend tears their relationship apart.  

I think I want to marry you (In processing)  CollegeAU. Bucky and (Y/n) get a little close while studying for finals. Tests are over and they celebrate the tried and true college way; alcohol. But in Las Vegas you can get into all sorts of trouble while drunk. After graduation, Bucky, who has spent all of college in ROTC, is shipped out, and (Y/n) finds a man she wants to marry. Problem? She finds out she’s already married, and Bucky doesn’t want to sign any divorce papers. He doesn’t like her fiance, either.

Falling for a surrogate (In (slow) Progress)  ModernAU. Nat and Clint want to have a baby, but she can’t conceive due to a past injury. A friend of Nat’s makes a living as a surrogate for couples who can’t conceive and offers to help in exchange for a place to stay. Bucky meets her and finds that her growing body is something he wants, and not just for the short term.

One shots

Weak  Bucky always has to keep tight control over himself, staying strong when the hardiest man would give up, but (Y/n) broke through his walls without his permission. Will he be able to handle it if he’s not in control?

The girl from the cafe 100 follower celebration  After living through all he has, Bucky is a bit shy. Steve wants to help him out of his shell and decides to use his crush on the girl in the cafe of the tower as the way, and a party Tony is throwing as the place.

Best failed prank ever @gaybybirth’s 10k celebration  (Y/n) has had a crush on Bucky since he came to the tower a while ago, but he’s a cocky playboy who likes to tease her. She has had enough and decides to get back at him with an attempted prank that goes wonderfully wrong.

How I see you   @omnomsauruswrites 200 followers celebration  (Y/n) is feeling really down, and after a terrible date, Bucky wants to make her feel better, but can he convince her that he thinks she’s beautiful? You can bet he’s about to do his damnedest!

Count ‘em for me   @propertyofpoeandbucky’s mystery writing challenge  (Y/n) and Bucky have unresolved sexual tension. She gets mouthy on a mission and Bucky decides to teach her a lesson, but she never dreamed she’d like the punishment this much, and neither did he… But he knows how to handle it. Counting to ten should be easy, but with Bucky overseeing you, it’s one of the hardest things ever… One of them.

The truth about the dare  Tagged by @tephi101 in truth or dare game  Friday night- game night! Tony is an ass, everyone knows that, but when Bucky practically runs away from a dare for (Y/n) to give him a lapdance, -for the second time!- she starts thinking it has something to do with her, but Bucky wants her to believe that that’s not the case, so (Y/n) gives him a dare to prove it.

Salvator  (not a smut)  Bucky finds a half dead kitten on a mission an brings it home, Dawn helping him nurse it back to life and keep it hidden from Tony. Over time, he has started coming out of his shell, and realizes some feelings that he didn’t know he had. So, did he save the kitten, or did the kitten save him?

Bucky’s cookies @devilbat‘s Christmas challenge  Bucky misses some things about his past; his mother’s gingerbread cookies are one of the things that always had happy memories associated with them. He can’t recreate them, but it does lead to an opportunity to create more happy memories.

Be good for Sarge, Kitten  Bucky wants to give (Y/n) a wonderful night. This is really… mostly something I wrote for me because it’s a so called “special day”.

Steve’s birthday blowjob  (Stucky x reader) Happy Birthday, Steve Rogers! And America!

An Evening Snack  (Vampire!Bucky) In the days of elegant balls and husband searching, Bucky is a vampire looking for a meal. (Y/n) is immediately interested in him and follows where he leads, despite everyone’s warnings. Will she survive? 

Bad mission recovery Bucky comes back from a harsh mission and (Y/n) takes care of him.

Double Stuffed Birthday (Stucky x Reader) (Y/n) has a crush on her neighbors, who are together. She writes them off as unattainable as lovers, since she doesn’t think they like females- until she hears a woman making noises through their wall one night! She’d been ok with only being friends, but, if she can have it all, she’s going to go for it. 

Let me keep you warm (working title, in processing)

Ok, so this was just messages that I read, and was inspired… In processing…

More Smut

(Hey, yo, just letting you know that this is the OP here, reposting on side blog for better access to edit.)