#we are working on the wire/foot biting problem

[cloudywithachanceofsephiroth]

The dog and his favorite toy #7

[cheynovak]

American Sin

Soldier boy x Angel aka Y/N Female supe

Summary: set somewhere in the 70s. Before gunpowder soldier boy had another sidekick who he couldn't get along with... until one horrible incident.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Almost rape, Name calling,SB being SB, talk of virginity, ...

English isn't my first language.

Please do not copy my work. Sharing/likes and comments are appreciated.

**Chapter One: Hell’s Angel**

The club reeked of sweat, booze, and cheap cologne. Neon lights flickered, barely cutting through the haze of cigarette smoke curling toward the ceiling. The bass from the speakers thrummed in Soldier Boy’s chest, but he barely noticed. He was nursing a glass of bourbon, legs spread wide, one arm thrown over the back of the booth.

The bartender had sent some groupie over—a redhead with legs up to her neck and stars in her eyes. She giggled, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, but he wasn’t paying attention. He had bigger problems.

Like the girl sitting across from him.

Vought called her Hell's Angel, which was some real ironic shit, given that she walked in here with a damn rosary around her wrist.

Her outfit told a different story: a black leather mini-skirt, ripped fishnets, a cropped tank with “God Is Dead” scribbled across it in red. She had the look—Vought had made sure of that—but everything else about her screamed not one of us.

But the world and Ben would soon start to call her, just Angel.

“You’re shitting me, right?” Soldier Boy’s voice was rough, slurred slightly from the whiskey. He gestured at her, as if the mere sight of her offended him. “This is what they sent me?”

She stiffened, crossing her arms over her chest. “I didn’t exactly ask for this gig either, sir.” Her voice was clear, cutting through the noise around them. She had a little bite. He’d give her that.

“Then why the hell are you here?”

A muscle in her jaw twitched. “Money.”

Soldier Boy snorted. “Yeah? You don’t look like the type.”

She glared. “Not all of us get a fat check for pretending to be America’s hero.”

That made him laugh—loud and mean. “You got some balls, sweetheart.” He took another sip of his drink, then pointed at her. “Alright, Angel, what’s your deal? What do you do?”

Her hands clenched into fists on the table. “Electromagnetic manipulation.”

He raised an eyebrow. “English, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes. “I control electricity. Short-circuit things. Cause blackouts. That kind of stuff.”

Soldier Boy exhaled through his nose. “Great. So if I need a goddamn lightbulb changed, you’re my girl.”

The sarcasm didn’t seem to rattle her, which annoyed him even more. “You want a demonstration?” she asked, voice sugar-sweet.

Without waiting for permission, she flicked her wrist toward the neon sign above the bar. Sparks shot from the wiring, the glow flickering before the whole thing popped and died, plunging half the club into darkness.

Shouting. Chaos. The bartender swore. Someone tripped over a chair.

Soldier Boy just whistled low.

She smirked, satisfaction flickering in her eyes before she quickly wiped it away. “Can I go now?”

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” he said, leaning forward, his grin wolfish. “Vought wants us to be a team. That means we need to—what do they always say?—get along.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m not here to be your friend.”

“Trust me, I’d rather chew glass.” He knocked back the rest of his drink, then slapped the glass down on the table. “But Vought’s footing the bill for your mom’s meds, right?”

She flinched—so quick he almost missed it.

“Yeah,” he said, dragging out the word. “I know why you’re here.” He leaned back, stretching his arms along the booth. “So I suggest you play nice, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want them cutting you off.”

The hatred in her eyes was delicious. Good. This was gonna be fun.

--

Vought Tower was nothing like she’d imagined. It wasn’t just a building—it was a goddamn kingdom. Floor-to-ceiling windows, gold-trimmed decor, and a constant swarm of assistants, PR reps, and corporate types pretending the world revolved around them.

Y/N had been here for months now, long enough to get used to the bullshit.

She had learned two things fast:

1. The public liked her, but they *loved* Soldier Boy and Crimson Countess more.

2. She didn’t give a shit.

Vought could dress her up however they wanted—make her wear leather, throw her into staged bar fights, and slap a rebellious nickname on her—but the public wasn’t stupid. They saw through it.

Her ex-boyfriend hadn’t helped.

One interview. One smug asshole telling the world she was a prude, that he hadn’t been “allowed to touch her,” that she was just some Catholic good girl pretending to be something she wasn’t.

That was all it took. The media went wild.

“Hell’s Angel? More like Heaven’s Nun.”

“America’s Sweetheart? Or America’s Ice Queen?”

It was all bullshit, but she ignored it. As long as Vought kept her mom’s medical bills covered, she didn’t care what people thought.

The Twins, though? They thought it was hilarious. That’s how she ended up outside Soldier Boy’s room.

"He needs you. Urgent.” That’s what the twins had told her, all wide-eyed and serious. And like an idiot, she believed them.

The second she pushed the door open, she knew she’d fucked up.

Soldier Boy was naked. Completely, unapologetically, stark-fucking-naked.

Not alone, either.

Three girls—two blondes and a brunette—were tangled in silk sheets, their bare limbs draped over him like he was some goddamn king. The room smelled like liquor, smoke, and sex.

Soldier Boy barely even looked surprised.

She? She stood there frozen, mortified, her brain short-circuiting worse than the neon sign she’d fried back at the club.

One of the blondes giggled. “Well, well. Looks like someone got lost.”

Soldier Boy just smirked. That smug, lazy smirk that made her want to slap him. “Ah sweetheart, I'll be right with you, I'll finish Cathy..."

"Kate." One of them corrected him.

"Kate," He started over "I'll finish her and your next."

Her stomach twisted. Her face burned. She wanted to disappear. To run, to burn her eyes as he did what he said and just... get along with it.

The girls giggled and moaned.

Her jaw clenched. She straightened, forced her expression blank, and leveled him with a cold stare. “Vought says you’re supposed to be a role model. Guess that’s a joke too.”

Then she turned on her heel and walked out. The laughter rang in her ears long after she shut the door behind her.

Inside the room, the girls were still talking, their voices muffled but clear enough.

"I read she’s a virgin," one of them giggled. "Guess she couldn’t handle you, huh?"

Another one chimed in, fake sympathy dripping from her voice. "Yeah, Soldier Boy, better stay with us. You need a real woman."

More laughter. More of that smug, taunting amusement, like she was some naive little girl who didn’t belong here.

She clenched her fists and walked on.

--

The smell of coffee and fried bacon filled the kitchen as Y/N sat at the counter, idly stirring her cereal. She wasn’t really hungry, but she had an early morning photoshoot, and skipping meals would just give Vought’s PR team another excuse to ride her ass.

She was halfway through a spoonful when he walked in. Y/N tried to focus on her breakfast, but her brain had other ideas.

Ben.

Fresh out of bed, looking like he didn’t give a single shit about anything.

His robe was wide open, showing off that broad, muscled chest, and the only thing he had on was a pair of low-slung training pants. The man didn’t believe in modesty. Never had. He strolled through the kitchen like this all the time, half-dressed, yawning, scratching his chest, stretching his arms over his head—like he knew people were looking.

Ben was right there, standing across from her, half-dressed like he always was.

Robe hanging open, coffee cup in hand, his chest on full display. And lower—her gaze betrayed her, flickering down to where his sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips.

And. Well.

Jesus Christ.

Was every man blessed like that?

She had no frame of reference, no real experience outside of a few PG-13 make-out sessions, but something told her that what she was seeing was... above average.

Way above.

Memories of that night flashed in her head—walking into his room, seeing him in full glory, tangled up with those three girls. The sounds. The way he barely even looked surprised, just amused by her reaction.

She swallowed hard.

Heat crept up her neck, and she forced herself to look away, staring down into her cereal like it held the secrets of the universe.

But it was too late.

She could feel his smirk before she even looked up.

“Something on your mind, Angel?” Ben’s voice was slow, thick with amusement.

Her stomach dropped.

Shit.

Slowly, she lifted her eyes, only to find him watching her with that cocky expression—like he’d caught her red-handed and was enjoying every second of it.

“Not at all,” she said quickly, too quickly.

His smirk widened. “Huh. Could’ve sworn you were staring.” He took a casual sip of his coffee, gaze never leaving hers. “Lotta thoughts running through that pretty little head of yours?”

She gritted her teeth. “You’re disgusting.”

He chuckled. “Disgusting?” He gestured at himself lazily. “Sweetheart, I saw you looking. I get it. You got questions.”

Y/N’s face burned." I don’t have questions.”

“Sure,” he said, unconvinced. Then, just to be a bastard, he adjusted the himself in his sweatpants.

Her eyes betrayed her again.

His laughter was damn near sinful. “You’re adorable.”

She shot up from her seat, gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing keeping her from electrocuting his ass right there. “I was not looking,” she snapped, voice high with mortification.

Ben leaned in, voice dropping to a mock whisper. “Angel, if you’re curious, all you gotta do is ask.”

Her hands sparked.

He grinned. “Careful. Wouldn’t wanna short-circuit the place just ‘cause you got flustered.”

He grabbed a mug, pouring himself another coffee like he didn’t have a care in the world and sat next to her. “Big morning, Angel?”

That damn nickname. He only ever used it when he was feeling extra annoying.

She didn’t look up. “Photoshoot.”

He snorted. “Lemme guess—more fake ‘bad girl’ bullshit?” He leaned against the counter, taking a slow sip. “Think they’ll finally give you a miniskirt that doesn’t make you look like a Catholic schoolgirl trying too hard?”

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stay calm. Ignore him. Don’t take the bait.

But he wasn’t done.

He smirked over the rim of his cup. “Or maybe they’ll just put you in a nun outfit. Wouldn’t want America’s Virgin to give anyone the wrong idea.”

Her grip on the spoon tightened.

He loved this. Ever since her ex went running to the press, Ben had made it his personal mission to tease her about it every chance he got. And in private? He was worse.

"Twenty-one and still pure as snow," he drawled, shaking his head. "Jesus, sweetheart. What are you waiting for, marriage?"

She knew he was trying to get a rise out of her. She wasn’t going to give him one.

Calmly, she took another bite of cereal, chewing slowly before answering. “What I do or don’t do isn’t your business, Ben.”

He chuckled. “Oh, sweetheart—everything in this place is my business.”

Her eyes flicked up to him for just a second—just a second—and he caught her.

That cocky smirk spread wider.

He saw the way her gaze had drifted, how she’d let it skim over his chest, down to his abs, before snapping back up.

Shit

Ben leaned in, setting his coffee down on the counter beside her. Close enough that she could smell the faint traces of whiskey still lingering on his breath from last night.

“Careful, Angel,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement. “Look too long, and people might start thinking you’re curious.”

Her face burned.

She inhaled sharply, grabbed her plate, and stormed out of the kitchen without another word.

Ben’s laughter followed her down the hall.

She hated him.

She hated him so damn much.

--

The studio lights blazed hot overhead as Y/N shifted in her pose, adjusting to the photographer’s demands.

It was supposed to be a simple shoot. Just another set of promotional images—leather, fishnets, smoky eyeliner, the whole rebel girl act Vought was still trying to push.

But from the moment she walked in, something felt off.

The photographer, some industry creep named Mitch, had barely looked her in the eye when they introduced him. Instead, his gaze dragged over her body, assessing her like she was just another prop.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Mitch called, circling her like a vulture. “Let’s see some attitude. Hands on your hips, chin up—yeah, that’s it.”

She adjusted.

He frowned.

“Nah, nah, let me—”

Before she could react, his hands were on her.

Instead of just directing her, he physically grabbed her waist, twisting her slightly. “Need you to angle this way.”

Y/N stiffened. She didn’t like being touched. Not like this. Not by him. She stepped away subtly. “You can just tell me what you need.”

Mitch ignored her.

The shoot continued, and every few shots, he found another excuse to touch her. Adjusting her stance, tilting her chin, running his hands over her arms under the guise of “fixing” her pose.

Each time, Y/N moved away. Each time, he did it again. Trying to get her into very intimate poses and stands.

Something in her gut twisted.

Then, when she tried to step back again, his grip tightened She froze.

The overhead lights flickered.

Mitch smiled like nothing was wrong. “Relax, sweetheart. You’re too stiff. Here let me help you relax..."

Her breathing picked up. “I said—”

Before she could finish, he shoved her back—into the wall.

The impact knocked the breath from her lungs. Panic slammed into her, sharp and blinding. His hands roamed lower.

He yanked at the fishnets Vought made her wear, his fingers tearing through the fabric.

“No,” she choked out, begging. “Please—”

His grip was firm. He wasn’t letting go. Terror locked up her limbs.

Then, all at once— The entire studio exploded in light.

The bulbs burst in a violent flash. Sparks rained down from the ceiling. The room hummed with electricity, static crackling in the air like a coming storm.

Mitch yelped, stumbling back. That was all she needed.

She ran.

--

Ben was still at the kitchen table, halfway through his coffee, when the lights flickered. At first, he thought it was just her.

Angel had been moody as shit that morning—not that he minded, it was fun to mess with her—and when she got worked up, electronics tended to act up. But this?

This was different.

The entire building pulsed like a power surge was about to take out the grid. The bulbs in the ceiling buzzed, flickering erratically. For a second, he thought they might explode.

Then, just as quickly as it started, it was over.

Ben raised an eyebrow but didn’t think too much of it. Not until a blur of black and leather came tearing past the kitchen.

She was running, eyes wild, breath ragged, shoulders shaking.

The coffee mug hit the table with a sharp *clink* as Ben stood. He barely had time to process it before instinct kicked in—follow her.

She was halfway down the hall when he caught up, grabbing her arm. “Whoa, whoa—”

The second he touched her, she lashed out. She fought.

Not the usual way—no smartass comments, no playful shoves. She fought like she was fighting for her life.

Ben had seen her in combat, had watched her take down men twice her size without hesitation. But this? This was different.

She was panicked. Wild. Desperate to get away.

“Hey! Angel!" he barked, gripping her tighter. She kept struggling, arms flailing, her hands sparking dangerously.

Ben sighed, then hauled her over his shoulder like a damn sack of potatoes. She kicked. She screamed. She damn near electrocuted him.

He didn’t let go.

Back in the kitchen, he set her down on the counter, hands firm on her waist to keep her still. “Alright, enough, ” he snapped. “What the hell happened?”

She wouldn’t look at him. Her breathing was too fast.Her hands were shaking so badly she had to clutch the counter. She looked like she was on the verge of collapsing. Her face and eyes puff from crying hysterical.

And then—he saw it.

The ripped fishnets. The fabric, torn at the thigh. The bruises already forming on her legs.

Ben went still. Something inside him turned cold.

His jaw clenched. “Who?”

Y/N swallowed hard, still refusing to meet his eyes.

His grip tightened. “Who did this to you?"

--

Taglist:

Jensen: @jackles010378 @libby99hb @winchesterwild78 @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-baby-momma @ancles @tulipsvanilla @thesilmarillionblog @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kr804573 @kamisobsessed @hobby27 @globetrotter28 @kindollss @muhahaha303 @shadysoulangel @lyarr24 @spxideyver @impala67rollingthroughtown @panickedbitch @deansimpalababy @livya99 @yvonneeeee @ladykitana90 @stoneyggirl2 @imsiriuslyreal @panickedbitch @roseblue373 @n-o-p-e-never @ariasong11 @lmpala1967 @sherlockstrangewolf @spnaquakindgdom @writtenbyhollywood @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @healojane @star-yawnznn

[drivinmeinsane]

Stranded : 12 Days of Goosemas

Day Two ❆ Driver / Reader

{12 Days of Goosemas 2024 Masterlist} ※ {Regular Masterlist} ※ {ao3}

❆ Summary: A little car trouble gives you and Driver a moment alone before you visit your family for the holidays. ❆ Rating: No mature content. ❆ Content/Tags: domesticity, holiday travel, fluff, no use of Y/N ❆ Word Count: 1551 ❆ Author's Note: Pulling so much overtime at work kicked my ass in December and is still kicking it with no end of these 70+ hour weeks in sight, but I'm sure we can muster up a little seasonal coziness in January for some overdue Goosemas prompt fills. 🤞

Your eyes are like starlig-

“Nope,” you mutter under your breath and twist at the knob to change the station—abruptly cutting off yet another Christmas song crooning over the old speakers.

Much to your chagrin, the Malibu is too old for a CD player by about a decade, leaving you at the mercy of whatever radio stations Driver’s beloved ‘73 can pick up through its warped antenna. In a bid for sanity, you have made a game out of dodging all the holiday tunes that have floated across the airwaves. Working a shitty job during December is enough to make almost anyone want to leap out of a moving vehicle at the first jingle of bells.

Your dramatic reactions and desperate lunges at the dial have coaxed a few lopsided smiles out of Driver as he takes you up north for your annual family gathering for the season. The mechanic’s presence behind the wheel is a welcome comfort. Even more welcome is the hand resting on your thigh. Each movement of his thumb back and forth over your clothed skin softens the tense lines of your back until you’re tucked into your seat like it’s a comfortable armchair.

The peace is shattered when the car starts jerking—stuttering like an old woman in her death throes. Driver pulls his previously relaxed hand off your thigh and drops it onto the stick. You don’t have time to do more than let out a startled gasp at the sudden jostling. He ignores your surprise as he shifts down in gear, struggling to keep the wheel steady. The Chevy bucks against his efforts, fighting him with every rotation of her tires.

Driver takes to the shoulder. The action forces the vehicle’s momentum to slow as the wheels catch on the snow that has been pushed to the side of the road by the snowplows that have been working since before the rise of the sun to make the miles upon miles of pavement traversable.

You barely hear him let out a frustrated exhale of air while the car idles roughly in park before he kills the engine. The resulting silence is loud without the crackle of the old radio and the persistent hum of the engine. Driver leans down and fiddles with the loose wires hanging down underneath the steering column. He’s talked about getting a lower dash panel, but still hasn’t found one that will properly fit.

Eventually, the sound of the hood popping free from its latch reaches your ears through the solid body and glass of the car.

Without a word, Driver pushes the keys to the Malibu into your hand for safekeeping. The rabbit’s foot is soft in your palm. He’s giving you his luck.

The wind that darts into the car after he opens the door is cold enough to bite at you through your layers. Despite her state of constant repair and modification, the vehicle does have a good heater and you already miss it. You tug your coat tighter around yourself.

You wince in sympathy while you watch the mechanic round the front of his car. He always runs cold, layering up even in the heat of the West Coast. You’re surprised that you can’t see him shivering in his jackets through the rapidly fogging windshield.

While he works, you pull out your phone out of your pocket and flip it open with a satisfying click of the hinges. No bars. The signal doesn’t improve upon extending the antenna.

“Shit,” you groan, putting the phone away.

A faint sense of worry starts worming its way into your mind. If Driver can’t fix whatever problem has the old car acting up, it’s going to be a long wait until either someone else comes along or your family sends out the cavalry hours after the two of you were due to arrive.

In the effort to dispel your growing concern, you pop open the glove compartment and poke through the items. The space is mostly empty. There is the insurance information, an unopened air freshener, and a chipped screwdriver. Some takeout menus… a map and a pen. There is nothing of note to be found, nothing that screams personal value or sentimentality.

Would it kill this man to allow himself a little clutter?

Movement catches your eye and you startle into shutting the compartment as you see a flicker of your partner dropping to his knees in the snow in front of the vehicle. He falls completely out of sight. You unbuckle your seat belt and open the door with a creak that makes your jaw clench with the sheer volume of the sound in the snow-muffled quietness.

“How’s it going?”

Driver has worked himself underneath the front of the car, you realize as you move to stand by one of the headlights. You pass concerned eyes over him from the thighs down. Snow and asphalt salt are doing their best to soak into his clothes.

“Complicated.”

Dropping into a squat beside him, you wobble slightly on the uneven surface and steady yourself by grabbing his knee. He doesn’t startle at the unexpected touch. The two of you are long past any wariness.

“Want any help?”

“Toolbag, please,” comes the reply. You have to strain to hear him over the wind.

Easy enough, you decide and stand up to inch your way around the car. You lean against the cold metal to keep from slipping and making Driver drag you back up the embankment should you slide right off the road’s shoulder.

You twist the key in the lock of the trunk and pull out the heavy bag once the lid opens. It feels as though he has crammed the entire contents of a mechanic’s shop inside the confines of the bulging leather.

The bag lands with a thud when you complete the slightly perilous journey back to Driver’s side. It nudges against his leg. Before you can ask what he needs from it, his hand shoots out and he fishes out a tool by touch alone before withdrawing the appendage back out of sight. Clanking noises and the scraping of metal against metal ensue for just a moment.

He emerges from underneath the Malibu, holding onto a metal cylinder. His hair is mussed and your eyes drift and latch onto the band of his bare stomach from where his jackets have rucked up. The skin turns a pretty pink in the cold, triggering him to shove the thick material down with chilled hands. He rolls onto his knees and picks up the tool bag as he rises to his feet with a crunch of salt and snow.

“Go sit. Just need to clean this out,” he says, slightly raising the object he’s holding. It looks like something pulled out of a pile of scrap in junkyard,

“What’s that?,” you ask. You’re already opening the passenger side door, not needing to be told twice to get out of the air so frigid that your breath steams with every release of your lungs.

“Fuel cylinder.”

“Cool.” What he said means absolutely nothing to you. As you smile at the mechanic, you make a mental note to ask him for details. It’ll be worth it to see him get that soft sparkle in those blue eyes and actually talk.

The leather has cooled slightly in your brief absence. Settling into the seat is a process of suppressed hisses at the temperature and the relief of being out of the wind. It’s not long before Driver is throwing himself back behind the wheel and tossing a clean rag onto the dashboard followed by a less grimy looking part. It’s streaked with moisture from where it was hastily scrubbed with snow and wiped off.

‘’s cold,” he says, close to complaining as he ever gets. “How ‘bout your family moves somewhere warmer?”

You laugh. “They like it up here, besides, if they did, I would have less opportunities to do this…”

His questioning look turns into the widened eyes of mild outrage as you lean over the gear shift and put one cold hand under the hems of his layered clothing to press it against the warm expanse of his stomach. He exhales, sharp, catching your wrist in one large hand. He makes no effort to actually end the contact. His fingers are even icier than yours.

“Might as well get the other one over here,” he says, dry.

You take him up on his suggestion and proceed to work your left hand higher up on his body than your captured right. The winter sunlight is strong enough through the windows that the fine trail of hair on his abdomen lights up gold.

“You should probably warm yours up too,” you remark, leaning over even further.

Driver meets you in the middle with an eager kiss. His free hand skates over your coat, fingers seeking the edge of the garment to find your heat of your bare flesh. You hum appreciatively into his mouth at his efforts. You won’t be able to touch him as much as you’d like around your family without raising some eyebrows and being that couple. It would be a shame to not make the most out of your time while you wait for the cylinder to dry.

<- previous day // next day ->

[lostonehero]

This is dumb

Werewolf Arthur and Werewolf Oscar blindfaith.

Oscar knew the moment he laid eyes on Arthur. They were the same. He did greatly enjoy the other man's scent it made his inner wolf happy, so of course he offered himself up to help. He's a priest, and Arthur needed help. Although it was getting late and tonight was a full moon, thankfully however where they were going was pretty remote, so he didn't have to worry about any innocent bystanders.

The beastary was something else, however, and it was getting harder to focus. Thankfully, they didn't miss the exit the second time. He shut the book as they drove up to the abandoned property. "We should do this quickly. It will be night soon."

"R-right." Arthur nods as he gets out of the car. "Leave the book inside it's raining."

"Of course." Oscar places the old book on his seat and shuts the door. "Where should I start?"

"We can do a preliminary search, I'll check the barn. Can you look around the main house?" Arthur stares past him.

"Yes, of course." Oscar smiles and splits off.

......

"Arthur the stone!" John huffs. "I put it in Oscar's pocket."

Arthur stops. "You fucking what!" He growls, his emotions were like a live wire and he wanted to bite John. He wanted to make him submit. He nearly bites through his lip. "Fuck... fuck.... FUCK. John we can trust Oscar and you betray him like this."

"Trust him? We barely know him. Arthur, do you hear yourself? You're the one who made the deal with Scratch." John growls back. "You are getting yourself worked up over a stranger."

Arthur grits his teeth. He goes to yell at John again, but an odd muscle strain in his hand snaps him out of it. He flexes his right hand.

"Arthur, we can not just sit here while you stare at your... oh..? There seems to be an odd pain in my hand at the palm. It's as if your muscles are being pulled, but I can see no problem." John was curious, holding up his hand.

A cold dread settled in Arthur's stomach. "John, is tonight a full moon?"

"The sun will be setting shortly, I won't be able to tell you, however, due to the clouds. Why is that important?" John was getting annoyed.

Arthur flexed his right hand and swallows. "How far is Oscar from us?"

"He is by the house.... he has taken off his coat, which is odd considering the rain outside, which has slowly been turning to sleet. He is motioning to us and holding his coat. I do not understand what he is trying to convey."

Arthur could cry in relief. "He's like... ok ok shit fuck we don't have much time."

"You're right. We have to leave and find out about the order of the fallen star... Arthur why the fuck are you undressing?" John sounded baffled. "It is only going to get colder as the sun sets. You are going to freeze, stop removing your fucking clothes!"

Arthur got undressed as fast as he could before the first shooting pain went down his spine, and he went to his knees. The ground was muddy, and he forgot how painful this would be. "J-john."

"Arthur! What is wrong? Have we been hurt ha- SHIT." John cursed as pain curls in his hand and foot. It felt as if the muscle and bone were being shattered and reformed. "FUCKING ARTHUR WE'RE UNDER ATTACK THE KING THE-"

Arthur curls into himself more bones shift and crack reforming. He can hear Oscar howl in pain across the way, and that's the last thought he had as the moon rose.

"Arthur? Arthur!" John felt wrong he couldn't feel his fingers, and he was disoriented.

A low growl answered.

"Arthur, there seems to be a giant wolf approaching us." John looked around and saw another set of paws. The color of the fur matched Arthur's hair.

The giant wolf seemed to be bigger than what they were at the moment. They sniffed the air and stood on guard.

John could see the giant wolf walk around them.

Arthur made a noise like a low animalistic growl and lunged.

John could see a glowing stone in the larger wolf's hip? But it didn't look to bother the creature. He knew that stone to be Scratch's stone. Did this wolf kill Oscar? Would they kill them? He didn't have time to process as they started to move fast together.

John lost track of time, from the three dead deer, and whatever they were being mounted by the giant wolf with a bite into their flesh and Arthur giving one back to the wolf in the after throws of passion. The storm broke, and they were in the barn after breaking down the doors. "Arthur, the larger wolf will not fuck you a third time no matter how much you whine." He sighs feeling a dull ache in his paw? Paws? He didn't want to think about it. The other large wolf was whining, too curled up next to Arthur.

Something was different... they were shrinking, and John could feel his hand again and move his fingers. "What the fuck was that?" He could see light filter into the barn as the sun crept over the horizon.

John watched the giant wolf turn into Oscar, who was now stretching and gripping his head.

"Yes, yes." Oscar groans as he sits up. He covers his mouth as he burps and drools a slightly black liquid and curses when he sees it on his hand. "Definitely scratch here.... explains why you're loud." He wiped his hand on the barn floor and cracked his back. He looked over to Arthur. "Yes, yes, you had fun..." He raised his hand to his shoulder where a bitemark was present. He gets up with a jolt and starts to pace and mumble in Latin.

"Didn't know he spoke Latin." John mumbles as Arthur hisses and gets up. "You're awake! What the FUCK was that?"

Arthur grimaces he's more sore than he normally is after a full moon. Probably because he spent it with another wolf. Thankfully, he didn't feel hungry. He scratches at his stubble and stretches before he gets up.

"Arthur, are you even listening to me?" John shouts.

"Mmh." Arthur hums. "John, I'm fine, we're fine."

"You didn't sleep last night! You turned into a beast! Oscar was a giant wolf and fucked you! You ate like 3 deer! You kept growling at me." John huffs.

"Mmh, right." Arthur yawns stretching again. "John, I'm a werewolf. That's why I asked about the moon."

"You are making no sense!" John growls. "What the fuck is a werewolf?"

Arthur pinches his brow. "Right you know about all these other horrors but you don't know what a fucking werewolf is."

Oscar stopped pacing. "Arthur, who are you talking to?"

"A voice in my head who controls my eyes left hand and left foot. His name is John." Arthur sighs.

"What the fuck Arthur?" John growls.

Oscar pursed his lips and paused for a moment. "Like scratch?"

"Yes.... wait..." Arthur whips his head towards Oscar. "What do you mean?"

"Scratch tried to possess me the first time, with the incident with Marie's husband." Oscar yawns. "Sorry. It didn't exactly go how the entity wanted, but it gave my wolf a voice, and I think my wolf also ate a piece...." He stops and makes a face. "Sorry again... um, right, so is John the name you gave yours after an incident with an entiy?"

"Jesus, it can talk to you?" Arthur pauses. "Not excatly, John is a fragment of a god who again controls my eyes left hand and left foot."

"For fucks sake Arthur answer my damn question!" John pouts.

"Are you alright?" Oscar pauses. "You're making a face. John, did you want to ask me something?"

"Arthur i.... wait, he's asking me?" John lost his anger replaced with an odd tone.

"John doesn't know what werewolves are. I suppose I was in a coma during the last full moon, so I couldn't turn." Arthur sighs.

"Oh, I can answer. I was turned when I was quite young. The folks thought I wasn't going to survive the attack. Werewolves are people bitten or born as these creatures who turn into giant wolves during the full moon. However, we get enchanced senses and unfortunately instincts while we are normal the rest of the month. Also, a lot more than normal bodily hair." He motions to his incredibly muscular frame and the dark black body hair that covers his arms legs chest and back. "Also sharper teeth and pointed ears."

Arthur nods. "I've been like this for a decade, nowhere near as long as you, Oscar."

"So that's why you were removing your clothes." John hums. "They get ruined when you turn."

"Correct. I hope I have enough salvageable clothing. I can go out in public." Arthur broke into a small smile as Oscar chuckles.

"And you were complaining that I took too long, I got extra clothes I put in the trunk when we visited the parish." Oscar smiles. "The nuns are quite helpful this time of the month. The church isn't a stranger to those afflicted like us."

"Thank you, Oscar." Arthur smiles a bit wider.

"Of course, happy to help out." Oscar's face lights up in a soft blush.

.......

They ended up back at Noel's place, and he gathered the order of the fallen star would meet in a months time. Oscar went back to his parish, but he would be helping out. John didn't understand why Arthur insisted on that fact. Speaking of Arthur, he seemed to finally fall asleep. It's time for him to stew alone with his thoughts.

A low animalistic growl broke John from any peace.

John moved his hand, and Arthur was snoring loudly like that didn't happen.

"Don't.... don't.... hate... you." The voice growls as if it wasn't used to speaking. It sounded as if it was Arthur's voice but pitched down and thrown into a blender.

"Where are you, fiend?" John growled as Arthur turned over, trapping John's hand under him. "Shit."

"Wolf....."

"Wolf?" John paused and recalled Oscar talking about his own Wolf. "You're Arthur's wolf?"

The voice growls. "Don't..... belong....."

John can imagine the wolf pawing at their muzzle, trying to get words out. "Our plans are to separate if that is what concerns you."

The wolf growls deep and low.

"Do you..." John pauses why was he entertaining this beast it will only effect them during a full moon. It sounded like a child.

The wolf went quiet, and John felt a tug, and suddenly, the scenery changed.

John was in a tattered yellow robe. A broken white mask was his face while black spills from the cracks. His lower half was a mass of tendrils, his arms were long, and his hands long with sharp talons. He didn't have time to process as sharp teeth bit into his shoulder.

"Own.... you." The giant wolf growls through his teeth.

John pulled himself away, and his shoulder stung as he watched the wolf sit and stare. He didn't know what this place was, and it definitely wasn't a dream. "What did you do?"

"Arthur.... owns you.... no..." The wolf growls and turns away. "Wake...."

"Wake?" John tries to move forward, and he is suddenly slammed back, staring at the ceiling as the first rays of sun shine in the window.

Arthur yawns. "Morning." He sits up and rubs his eyes. "Sorry, force of habit."

"Arthur what the fuck." John stares forward stunned.

"What?" Arthur yawns and scratched his stubble.

John pauses. "You weren't there?"

"I wasn't where?" Arthur gets up and smooths out the bed.

"There was a wolf, and it had your hair color. It spoke to me." John was careful with his next words. "I had a body, and the wolf bit me."

"Did you dream?" Arthur sounded genuinely curious.

"It wasn't a dream, I don't sleep." John huffs.

Arthur pauses and casually rubs John's hand. "I think that might have been my wolf." He frowns. "We don't overlap, Oscar explained it better, but the thing we share is instincts and unconscious behaviors. I've only ever encountered it once when I was first turned during my first full moon. It stripped me of my humanity it was not a pleasant experience."

"Should I try to befriend it?"

"I don't know John. You're the one in my subconscious. If what you tell me happened, then I have to be asleep for you two to interact, and that means I can't interfere." Arthur reaches out for his bag to pull out fresh clothes.

"I suppose befriending would be in my best interest, I rather not be bitten again." John groans. "We should talk to Oscar."

Arthur smirks. "Glad to see you're happy we have friends."

"Fuck you." John huffs.

.......

Oscar knew it was Arthur who opened the doors to the church before he turned around. Ever since the previous night and the black fluid, his senses have gotten even stronger, and his wolf is more vocal. He spots a few nuns looking his way and shakes his head. They were a bit too invested in his full moon habits. He turns to face Arthur and realizes he still has a ways to go before they are close enough to actually talk. He walks forward and stops in front of Arthur. "What brings you back? I thought you were discussing things with the detective today."

Arthur clears his throat. "Could we talk in your office? John and I would like to speak with you."

Oscar nods. "Of course, follow me." Heads them to his office and shuts the doors, and with a click of a lock, the doors were sealed. "How can I help you two?"

Arthur takes a seat shifting uncomfortably. There is a strong scent in the air, and it is filled with things he hasn't really felt in years. He sneezes and rubs his nose. "Sorry.... yes, I'm getting there." He sighs. "John met my wolf while I slept."

"Oh." Oscar tilts his head. "Ok, um, I don't know what you want me to say."

"He wants to know what your wolf is like, to gauge how he should approach it when he is dragged to my subconscious." Arthur frowns. "No, I'm not bringing that up."

Oscar sits back and taps his fingers against his old desk. "Dangerous and opinionated." He frowns and crosses his legs. "Territorial, and unfortunately, it's become harder to separate ourselves when he's always in my ear and the instincts sing in my blood. He isn't smart by human standards, but he is an animal. I don't expect him to be that way. Incapable of lying and cunning." He grimaced and scratched his beard. "Show yourself to not be a threat. You have to remember they are animals with dangerous nature's."

"What's your wolf saying now?" Arthur raised his brow.

Oscar gave a sheepish expression. "Nothing appropriate for this place of worship." He sighs. "I don't claim to be a good priest or even a good man, but I would like to help others. You've helped me, Arthur, and I only wish I could do the same for you." He pauses. "Ah, r-right John, did that help?"

"He says you're giving mindless beasts too much credit." Arthur sighs.

Oscar's eyes, the pupils dialate into lines for a moment, and he holds his head. "Please refrain from calling him that. I mean that for both of our sakes." He rubs his eyes, and they return to normal.

"Are you alright?" Arthur gets up from his seat.

Oscar holds out his hand. "Fine, I'm fine. Wolf got a bit riled it shall pass. It's unfortunate that John wasn't aware of werewolves, I have a few questions about my own about the outer world and why the creatures only make the wolf stronger."

Arthur sits back down. "What do you mean? Scratch wasn't at the barn." He pauses and nods, listening to John.

"I told you before about my first encounter of scratch." Oscar pauses as Arthur nods again. "Marie didn't exactly pick her sister as the first choice after her husband. She used her husband to get me there, but I don't blame her she was scared and just needed help."

"Oscar...."

Oscar shakes his head. "Well, a simple knock on my head got me to the floor. I woke up coughing up a black flem, and well, my wolf was aware." His lips pull into a frown. "My wolf is very insistent that they finished their meal after the night in the barn. Now, I don't exactly know what that means, but I know I haven't felt a need to eat since. Which isn't entirely uncommon after a full moon. My wolf tends to over indulge in wildlife. But after the first encounter with Scratch, I was coughing up that black flem for weeks, I haven't since the barn. Well, I'm drawing this out, but does John know what that is about?"

Arthur's face went from serious to confusion to bewildered. "He only said I'm befriending the wolf before it kills me. John, do you think my wolf would kill you? John, be serious, I highly doubt Oscar's wolf killed and ate the fragment of an old one. Yes, I know Marie thanked us for her sister's return." He sighs heavily. "I apologize, Oscar."

"No, no, it's ok. For what it's worth, I feel the same Arthur. To kill and eat a god would be madness, even a fragment." Oscar pauses. "I'm still getting used to these outer realms and old gods. If anything, it's strengthened my faith here because it means my god could be real."

"I'm glad Oscar." Arthur frowns. "I'm not going to take a nap, John, so you can start playing nice."

Oscar chuckles. "How about I treat you two to some lunch? I'm sure Noel would like to keep us both in the loop for future plans."

Arthur nods. "Yes, he is meeting with his contact today."

......

"Good, you both made it." Noel, let's both Oscar and Arthur inside his office. "Now I told you over the phone Dennis is joining us. He'll be pretending to work for Larson while getting us information. Don't kill him."

Dennis chuckles from his seat and tips his hat with a smile. "Still alive boyo, and the good priest you're in this as well."

Oscar looked away. "R-right." He takes a seat next to Dennis, so Arthur didn't have to be next to him.

Arthur took his seat. "Butcher."

"Still with those eyes of yours." Dennis hums.

Noel sighs. "Now that's enough. We need to go over our plan . It is odd that the meeting begins during the day, but they want everyone there for the rise of the moon. Something about the full moon or something, it's a cult they have reasons for everything."

Arthur frowns. "The full moon is important? Is there any particular reason why?"

"The most we gather so far, it's for a ritual." Noel motions to Dennis.

"Something about separation, Larson is keeping strict timetables." Dennis shrugs. "But everyone will be there."

"Seporation?" Arthur hums and furrows his brows. "It's nothing good."

"Seporation from what?" Oscar scratches his chin and stares off into the distance. He stiffens and mumbles something in Latin.

"What wolf are you referring to priest?" Dennis smirks.

Oscar frowns and looks over to Dennis. "You know Latin?" He sighs. "None of which concern you, Dennis."

Arthur raised a brow and thins his lips. "Is there anything else of concern?"

"No, right now, we are just collecting information and staying low." Noel sighs. "However, Dennis, you will be playing a good little errand boy to Larson to keep up appearances."

Dennis gets up and tilts his hat. "See you later, priest." He states his regards in Latin and leaves.

Oscar bites his lip and draws blood. "My apologies for my behavior." He gets up suddenly. "I must go. You may call me at the parish if you need me." He rushed out of the room before either man can speak.

Noel raised his brow even higher. "Do you know what that was about?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Arthur sighs.

......

John sighed again louder.

"What do you want, John? It's too early to sleep. We have time to actually relax." Arthur frowns.

"I merely wish to befriend the wolf for my own safety." John huffs.

"I highly doubt that my wolf could eat a fragment of a deity. John, what Oscar told us could mean anything, and Scratch could just be a creature from the outer realms." Arthur pinched his brow. "You're perfectly safe."

John grumbles. "Fine."

"Just enjoy the peace." Arthur hums softly.

.......

John could cry, Arthur finally headed to bed, and he could feel his breathing even out to signal he was asleep. He waited, but no growl, not tugging pain. There was nothing!

"What the fuck." John tapped impatiently on Arthur's chest to match the heartbeat. Arthur made no move to wake, nor was there anything off about this arrangement. He stewed in his own thoughts as he counted Arthur's heartbeats.

A new noise alerted John to something. This was Noel's place, Arthur moved over here after helping Marie with Hattie. He looked from the singular gaze of where Arthur laid but could see nothing. He's thankful his partner learned to sleep with his eyes open.

"Oh fuck." That was Noel, his voice was full if sleep and the sound of shuffling feet are heard. "Didn't think the kid slept with eyes open. Fucking freaky."

John cautiously moved his hand to alert Noel he was awake.

Noel pauses. "Right. Arthur mentioned you can't sleep."

John moves his hand like a nod.

Noel yawns. "Sorry about that, John."

John watches Noel creep into his vision. He seemed tired and pale, frail in the moonlight.

"Nights like tonight feel too peaceful." Noel sighs, rubbing his face. "At any moment, something could go wrong. I have to remind myself I'm not there. Not in that hell, yaknow." He doesn't smile. "Goodnight John."

John could hear a low growl, but that was it for the night. It set him on edge until Arthur woke up.

......

[rodentcontrolsblog]

Chicago Rodent Control: How to Safeguard Your Property from Infestation

The Windy City’s Wild Pest Problem: Safeguarding Your Chicago Property from Rodents

Chicago is sadly no stranger to rodent infestations. Our sprawling metro with its huge sewer systems, garbage dumps, riverside restaurants and dense housing - makes for a veritable rat paradise. Residential buildings, shops and warehouses face chronic rodent problems across neighborhoods; with complaints rising sharply since 2020.

Let’s understand why Chicago is so infestation-prone, how we are affected and most importantly - what countermeasures property owners can undertake for preventing rat/mice activity inside our homes and buildings.

Decoding Chicago’s Pest Control Woes

From a rodent perspective, our city offers unlimited food waste, Benedictine water supply through sewer system and Lake Michigan alongside ample harborage options in buildings, yards and parks. Milder winters nowadays allow year-round breeding as litters need warmer temperatures. Climate change impacts like extreme heat/cold, heavy rainfall are also shrinking natural rodent habitats - driving them indoors for shelter.

Additionally, Construction boom has disrupted underground burrows while growing outdoor dining culture and improper trash storage in neighborhoods, alleys provides free meals encouraging infestations to spill over into adjoining properties.

So a combination of conducive environment, weather volatility and urban dynamics is responsible for Chicago’s uncontrolled rat populations beyond sanitation capacity - reflected in increased citizen complaints.

How Rodents Affect Us

Living or working in rodent-infested properties directly threatens -

Health & Safety: Rats can transmit dangerous diseases like Leptospirosis. Mouse allergens also trigger asthma. Rodent bites cause wound infections. Electrical fires or outages can occur from damaged wires. Burrowed yards, walls risk injury/falls.

Property Value: Infestations decrease real estate value due to unsanitary conditions. Prospective tenants/buyers get turned off by rodent issues. Banks deny loans on affected properties.

Business Revenue: Shops/restaurants with rodent presence face legal actions, fines or closures over health code violations - causing severe financial setbacks. Loss of customer base too over public image concerns.

Clearly, we must take responsibility to ensure our homes, offices, shops do not attract rodents and proactively prevent infestations - rather than suffer the damages later.

Fortifying Your Chicago Property against Rodents

While completely rodent control chicago-proofing buildings in Chicago is impossible, we can surely barricade entry points and deny rodents food, water and nesting grounds to every extent possible. Here are 7 ways to fortify your property.

Inspect Premises

Check all corners inside and perimeter outside for entry or exit holes. Seek gaps in walls, gnaw marks on wood. Identify potential nesting spots. Track activity signs like droppings, greasy smudges. This reveals vulnerabilities needing resolution.

Block Entryways Seal all crevices, holes with concrete/steel wool. Install weather strips below doors with adequate sweep. Mesh wire on vents blocks access via ducts. Maintain window screens. Perimeter fencing with concrete footing obstructs ground entry.

Manage Food Sources Store food grains, pet supplies in chew-proof containers. Frequently clear crumbs, leftovers and clean oily deposits. Never leave edibles uncovered. Fix dripping taps and seal open drink containers. Manage dumpsters properly with tight lids. Discourage outdoor feeding of birds/strays.

Limit Harborage

Declutter garden areas, storage spaces and basements by removing debris piles where rats nest. Structural changes like boxed-in pipes, raised stacks, woodpiles also deny harborage. Reduce ground vegetation and trim overgrown branches.

Stop Plumbing Access Seal pipe openings with copper mesh, perforated aluminium sleeves. Secure floor and sink drains with weighted traps preventing sewer entry. Waterless trap seals in lesser used outlets preserve barrier. Always maintain water seals.

Seek Professional Help If despite proactive measures, an infestation begins - immediately contact certified pest control agencies for inspection and dedicated extermination services involving trappings, baits, fumigation and proofing reinforcements. They can also advise on permanent rodent-deterrent fixtures.

Community Participation Liaise with neighbors, associations and local authorities to collectively address area-wide rodent issues like burrows in vacant lots, debris near construction sites etc. Unity bolsters prevention capacity.

Adopting these building fortification measures with infection control essentials like disinfections and monitoring can help Chicago residents protect our most valuable asset - our homes & properties. Staying vigilant and working together as a community is key to safeguarding the Windy City from its wild pest problems in the long run!

[junipcrs]

 juno  is  practically  brimming  with  excitement  as  she  enters  the  wired  studio  .  she’s  really  got  nothing  to  hide  and  after  years  of  watching  wired’s  autocomplete  series  ,  juno  already  has  a  whole  thing  envisioned  .  she  wouldn’t  necessarily  categorize  herself  as  a  nepo  baby  but  she  could  definitely  see  how  she’d  fall  into  the  category  .  super  rich  parents  .  a  mother  who’s  a  known  socialite  ,  philanthropist  and  at  one  point  ,  a  model  .  and  a  father   who’s  a  prominent  figurehead  in  new  york  real   estate  .  she’s  got  a  leg  up  on  the  others  .    //    @nepofminspo​

“  hi  i’m  juno  choi  and  this  is  the  WIRED  autocomplete  interview  ...  ”

autocomplete  suggests  the  most  common  searches  on  the  internet

“  i’m  actually  super  excited  for  this  .  i’ve  always  wanted  to  do  one  of  these  .  ”

so  WIRED  asked  juno  choi  some  of  the  internet’s  burning  questions​​

WHO  ...

“  alright  ,  here  we  go  .  ”  [  juno  is  chuckling  as  she  rips  off  the  piece  of  paper  ]

who  is  JUNO  CHOI  ?

“  that  feels  like  a  very  loaded  question  .  who  am  i  ?  what  am  i  ?  just  kidding  .  hi  ,  for  those  of  you  who  don’t  know  me  ,  i’m  juno  .  i  really  like  cars  .  ”

who  does  JUNO  CHOI  look  like  ?

“  i  think  all  you  kdrama  fans  might  know  the  answer  to  this  but  a  lot  of  people  say  i  look  like  this  one  korean  actress  ,  kim  yoo-jung  .  love  her  .  love  her  work  .  ”

who  is  JUNO  CHOI  related  to  ?

“  my  mom  ,  alexis  ,  and  my  dad  ,  colin  .  if  you’re  both  watching  this  ,  hi  .  ”  [  juno  waves  at  the  camera  ]  “  and  i  can’t  forget  josie  .  love  you .  ”  [  juno  makes  a  heart  at  the  camera  ]

who  does  JUNO  CHOI  look  up  to  ?

“  my  uncle  hunter  .  taught  me  all  i  know  about  cars  .  and  also  the  man  responsible  for  making  me  unbearable  when  it  comes  to  talking  about  cars  .  ”  [  juno  laughs  ]  “  and  jane  fonda  .  she  just  exudes  this  energy  that  i  personally  love  .  she’s  just  so  proudly  her  and  doesn’t  give  a  [  bleep  ]  ––  sorry  i  forgot  i  technically  can’t  say  that  .  ”  [  juno  sheepishly  chuckles  ]

HOW  ...

how  is  JUNO  CHOI  ?

“  i’m  doing  well  ,  thanks  for  asking  !  ”

how  can  i  meet  JUNO  CHOI  ?

“  uhh  ,  well  ––  if  you  ever  see  me  out  an  about  don’t  be  shy  .  come  say  hi  .  i  promise  i  don’t  bite  .  ”

how  tall  is  JUNO  CHOI  ?

“  i  think  i’m  five  foot  seven  ,  last  i  checked  .  ”

IS  ...

is  JUNO  CHOI  from  new  york  ?

“  i  am  ,  yeah  .  born  and  raised  in  manhattan  .  ”

is  JUNO  CHOI  in  a  relationship  ?

“  i  am  currently  not  in  a  relationship  .  single  as  a  pringle  and  that’s  okay  .  don’t  let  anyone  convince  you  that  being  single  is  a  problem  .  ”

is  JUNO  CHOI  in  love  ?

“  that’s  a  loaded  question  .  can  i  say  i  love  my  cars  ?  because  i  do  .  they’re  my  babies  .  but  if  you’re  talking  about  romantic  love  then  no  .  platonic  and  familial  love  ,  of  course  .  i  love  my  friends  and  family  .  ”

WHAT  ...

what  is  JUNO  CHOI  known  for  ?

“  i  guess  i’d  say  i’m  known  for  my  stunt  driving  work  ?  other  than  that  ,  i  guess  it’s  how  much  i  post  my  restored  cars  on  instagram  .  ”  [  juno  laughs  lightly  ]

what  is JUNO  CHOI’S  zodiac  sign  ?

“  i  am  a  virgo  sun  ,  scorpio  moon  ,  cancer  rising  .  ”

what  is  JUNO  CHOI  starbucks  order  ?

“  a  little  basic  but  my  go-to  starbucks  order  is  a  nitro  coldbrew  with  vanilla  sweet  cream  .  ”

what  was  JUNO  CHOI  first  job  ?

“  technically  ,  my  first  job  was  when  i  modeled  for  a  gap  campaign  in  2004  .  first  job  as  an  adult  ?  i  got  a  small  gig  as  a  stunt  driver  .  ”

what  was  JUNO  CHOI  first  movie  ?

“  john  wick:  chapter  2  and  i  will  never  forget  it  .  it  was  such  a  surreal  experience  and  keanu  reeves  ?  he  is  just  wonderful  .  love  him  .  love  working  with  him  .  honestly  love  any  movie  where  i  get  to  work  with  him  .  ”

what  languages  can  JUNO  CHOI  speak  ?

“  at  the  moment  ,  i  can  speak  korean  ,  french  ,  spanish  ,  latin  ,  greek  and  i’m  currently  learning  how  to  speak  italian  .  ”

DOES  ...

does  JUNO  CHOI  have  tattoos  ?

“  i  currently  do  not  have  any  tattoos  .  but  that  might  chance  depending  on  when  this  video  is  published  .  ”

does  JUNO  CHOI  have  siblings  ?

“  i  do  !  i  have  a  younger  sister  .  ”  [  juno  turns  to  stare  intensely  at  the  camera  ]  “  rosie  ,  if  you’re  watching  this  ,  i  want  my  jacket  back  .  you  know  which  one  i’m  talking  about  .  ”

does  JUNO  CHOI  like  LIVIA  KELLY  ?

“  she’s  one  of  my  closest  friends  so  i  feel  like  it’s  kind  of  a  given  that  i  like  her  .  that’s  a  pretty  big  requirement  to  establish  a  friendship  .  ”

does  JUNO  CHOI  do  yoga  ?

“  on  occasion  .  i  just  need  to  be  more  consistent  with  it  .  ”

does  JUNO  CHOI  have  a  pet  ?

“  i  do  !  i  recently  adopted  a  cat  .  ”  [  juno  pulls  out  her  phone  and  shows  a  picture  of  her  cat  to  the  camera  ]  “  his  name  is  dubu  and  i  love  him  .  ”

DID  ...

did  JUNO  CHOI  date  LIVIA  KELLY  ?

 [  juno  laughs  before  she  finishes  removing  the  piece  of  paper  ]  “  i  hate  to  disappoint  because  i  know  some  of  you  have  your  theories  but  we’ve  never  dated  .  you  heard  it  here  first  folks  !  ”

did  JUNO  CHOI  ever  delete  their  social  media  ?

“  delete  ,  no  .  gone  on  a  really  long  hiatus  ?  yes  ,  absolutely  .  ”

WHERE  ...

where  did  JUNO  CHOI  go  to  college  ?

“ i  went  to  columbia  for  undergrad  and  cornell  for  grad  school  .  ”

where  is  JUNO  CHOI  right  now ?

“  well  ...  i’m  currently  in  new  york  at  an  unnamed  studio  with  wired  !  ”

[  juno  tosses  the  prop  behind  her  as  the  extended  endscreen  comes  on  to  show  wired’s  other  videos  ]  

“  well  i  appreciate  the  kinda  intrusive  but  also  basic  questions  you  all  have  about  me  .  ”

[barnes-dameron]

hi, do you think you could write a mandalorian x reader where the reader gets hypothermia? maybe din goes off on a bounty hunt for a few days and a couple days into him being gone the heating completely stops working and reader can’t fix it and she gives almost all the blankets to grogu to stay warm? cue din freaking out when he comes back to a barely conscious and freezing reader and he warms her up and it’s just cute

Frigid 

*gif not mine

Mandalorian x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This seems very fitting for me right now since there’s a foot of snow outside of my house! The reader is gender neutral  

***

You looked out the wind shield of the Crest to watch the frantic swirls of snow that encompassed the ship. Though you couldn’t feel the cold at that moment, the sheer thought of it was enough to send a shiver down your spine, causing goosebumps to rise, and the tiny hairs on your arms to stiffen. The howling wind outside was so strong that it gave the Razor Crest a gentle shake. You hated the idea of coming to Hoth, but the Mandalorian insisted; a bounty worth a ton of credits was hiding out in a cave somewhere nearby.

Shaking your head, you descended down the ladder to be greeted with the beskar clad bounty hunter who was packing for his hunt.

“I shouldn’t be gone for long,” he said, his deep voice doing nothing to comfort you. “Keep the heater on, and you and the Child should keep warm.”

You nodded at his words, pulling your jacket closer to you at the mere thought of being cold.

“How long will you be gone?” you asked, trying to conceal your anxiety.

“A few days at most,” he replied, shoving a blaster into his holster before slinging his prepared bag over his shoulder. “But I’ll be back in no time.”

That was the last thing he said to you before departing into the white abyss, leaving you and the Child in solitude.

It was quiet in Crest, except for the hum of the heater and coos from the Child every now and then. There was little to keep you occupied, much less to distract you from worrying about the Mandalorian. There was nothing on board that interested you, and the Child couldn’t do a lot, much less talk. The only thing that kept you company was your anxieties. However, you put all those thoughts aside when it was time to eat. You heated up some pre-made soup, serving both the Child and yourself. But as soon as the hot broth reached your lips, the humming stopped.

Your heart began to quicken its pace as fear began to spawn within you. At of all the times for this to happen, why did it have to happen now? You stood up from your seat on the floor, grabbed the toolbox, and made your way to the control panel for the heater. Removing the metal paneling that was concealing the controls, you stared at the wiring and tried to make sense of the thing. You didn’t know much about this sort of thing, only how to hot wire a speeder, but you hoped that this wouldn’t be too different. You rearranged the wires, and nothing. You reprogrammed the system, and nothing. You stepped back, putting the panel back, then began your frantic search for anything that will keep you warm.

Days. That was what the Mandalorian said. He would be gone for a few days. A few days for you and the Child to survive without heat. You gathered all the blankets that you could find, all your clothing, the Mandalorian’s capes and shawls, and an old animal pelt you found in the back. The Child watched in curiosity as you began to make a nest of blankets and clothing in the small bunk. You grabbed the little guy, placing him on the make shift bed, and continued to wrap him in the Mandalorian’s capes.

“Go to sleep, little one,” you murmured. “Hopefully you’ll keep warm, and by the time you wake up Mando will be back, and we’ll be far away from here.”

You closed the door to the bunk, praying that the Child will stay warm and that the Mandalorian will come back soon. If anyone knew their way around this ship, it was him. You sighed to yourself as you pulled on more of your clothes, the layers hopefully keeping in your body heat. You made your way to the cockpit, and settled in the pilot’s seat, looking out the wind shield in hopes that a beskar clad figure would appear in the winter desert. You didn’t care how long it took, you will stay there to make sure he comes back.

Hours have passed by. The never changing scenery doing nothing to keep your interest, much less to keep you awake. You lost all feeling in your toes and fingers. You were now able to see your breath every time you breathed. You continued to shiver in place, trying to stay awake to see the Mandalorian. But the swirls from wind and snow caused your eyes to grow heavy, lulling you to sleep despite the cold that was beginning to bite your cheeks.

***

The Mandalorian dragged the body of the his dead bounty behind him as he approached the Razor Crest, but a certain dread overcame him when he entered the hull only to find the interior was just as cold as it was outside. His heart dropped as the idea of the situation washed over him. He released his hold of the corpse’s feet, the thud echoing. Din closed the hatch to the hull, and began to look for you and the Child.

He opened the door to his bunk to find a little bundle of blankets on top of his cot. Din pulled aside some of the blankets to find the little womp rat, curled in a ball with his eyes closed as he napped. Turning on the heat signature on his visor, he was relieved to see the Child warm. He nodded to himself, placing the blankets back on top of him before going to find you.

Din climbed up the ladder to the cock pit, and his heart began to sink when he laid eyes on you. You were nearly blue through the heat signature vision, and panic started to arise within the Mandalorian. He turned off the heat signature, and began to examine you.Your features lost color; your lips were pale and chapped, and eyes shut. Your body was shivering, and your teeth were chattering softly. Din shook your shoulders, and began to repeat your name, trying to will you to wake up.

Relief flooded him as he watched your eyes flutter open, though they seemed lifeless, it held the light of someone who had hope.

“What happened?” Din asked, trying to keep your attention before you go back into your sleep.

“H-h-heater,” you stammered out, your teeth chattering as you did so. “B-b-broke.”

Din nodded, before hastily ripping off the cape that rested on his shoulders. He wrapped the garment tightly around you, making sure it covered a good portion of your head so that some warmth could return to your face. It was then that he set forth towards the control panel, pulling out the tools that Kuiil gave him from what felt like ages ago. Din recounted the words and advice from the wiser being as he fixed the wiring and checked the internal structures of the heater so that it would last. When he gets back to Nevaro, he will pay a mechanic to install a new one so that this will never happen again.

Din sighed in contentment when he began to feel the haul warm up, the soft humming filling the air once more. Turning back, he returned to the cockpit to find you once again sleeping. Taking off a glove, he pressed the back his bare hand to your cheek but then instantly pulling back when feeling how cold you were. It would take some time for the whole ship to warm up, and he would have difficulty carrying you down the ladder. You were still unconscious, practically dead weight. He would have no problem with anybody else, but this was you. He didn’t want to even risk hurting you.

Weighing his limited options, Din decided to do what he thought best. One by one, the Mandalorian removed pieces of his beskar armor, setting it aside on the floor, but not removing his helmet. Once it was all laid side by side, Din dragged you off the pilot’s seat, moving you towards the door so that the heat could get to you sooner. He pressed his back to the wall, holding you close to his chest as he circled his arms around you; pressing as much of his weight on you so that you could receive some his heat as well.

Din didn’t know how long it took for you to begin to warm up or even regain consciousness. To be completely honest, he enjoyed this intimate moment with you, despite the circumstances of the whole situation. He took this time to remind himself that you were safe, alive, even though he was gone. Even though you were helpless in this situation, you remained alive.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt you shift under him. He turned his head to look at you; the color has returned to your face and your eyes fluttered open to reveal the light of life within them. Din brought his hand to your face once again, relieved that it was warm instead of frigid cold.

“Mando?” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

“I’m here, cyar’ika,” Din said, grabbing your hand and holding it in his glove less one. “Are you okay?”

“Better,” you replied, snuggling closer into his chest. “The Child?”

“He’s okay,” Din assured. “Sleeping soundly in the bunk.” Din stroked your hand, relishing in the soft texture that he so rarely felt. “Can you move?”

“I think I can,” you said. “I can wiggle my toes.”

“That’s good,” Din affirmed. “Do you want to get up?”

“Not yet,” you answered. “Can we stay like this for a bit longer?”

“Whatever you want,” Din replied.

He leaned his head back to rest on the wall behind him, allowing you to get closer to him; resting your head on his collarbone, right underneath his chin. If he were to lean forward, he was sure to feel the top of your head beneath his helmet. But this wasn’t about him, it was about you. He wound his arms tighter around you, but still held your hand, tracing patterns on the back of it.

“Hmmmm,” you hummed, causing Din to draw his attention to you.

“What?” he questioned, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Nothing,” you replied. “I just never really realized how warm you are.”

Din felt you squeeze his hand tighter, but he pulled away for just a moment. He positioned it so that your fingers would interlock with his, palm to palm. It was this moment that Din would cherish forever: holding your hand with you so close to him in the solitude of the ship with the heater humming in the back and the harsh cold outside.

Taglist: @tangledlove27 @absurdthirst @caswinchester2000 @16boyfriends-and-me

[stoneworldsimp]

the dying poet

senku x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of food/water deprivation, swearing

day seven.

fuck, fuck, FUCK!

it felt like you had been running for hours, trying to shake this wild animal off. you made sharp turns behind large bushes in hopes of losing it, you’d hold as still as possible behind large roots on the ground, but the animal kept finding you in one way or another.

“please go away,”you panted. “c’mon. you’ve been chasing me fucking forever, can’t you just give up?!”

you were tired; your legs were about to buckle in on themselves. dinner one night was suddenly ruined when you realized the fucker was watching you eat. in the beginning you thought it was only after your food, not you; you threw a random ration away from your camp in hopes to get it away from you. in hindsight, it only worked until you fell asleep.

you were lucky to wake up the next morning alive; your set up had been ripped to shreds, and footprints were on the ground around your body. it was painstakingly slow and nerve wracking to escape your position, but once you had everything you absolutely needed, you booked it.

sprinting for miles after miles proved to be very difficult for quite some time now.

the phone...it’s weighing me down. my bag of food isn’t even half as heavy as the phone.

looking down at the call button in your hand, you thought about tossing the phone. maybe i can fix it.. no, i don’t have any tools, the fucking animal chewed on them like dog bones. is there any way to put the wire back together...?

“FUCK my life!”

you took the phone off your back and threw it to you left, careful not to trip yourself in the process. immediately, you and your body felt the difference. with your new found energy, the run away was becoming easier, and helped you see a large cave just over the horizon. using the last of your energy, you took as large of steps as you can, and practically threw your body into the cave. the animal’s footsteps were nowhere to be heard, but you figured you didn’t want to take any chances and look behind you. you were finally breaking free from being chased, just a little deeper into this cave, and if i can find specific markings then i can backtrack—

a deep, loud rumble took you away from your thoughts. in no time, you were engulfed in dust and thick particles you didn’t know of.

the caved had closed in.

day one.

“i can do it.”

“are you sure? its a pretty perilous trip—“

“you should at least bring one other person with you—“

you sighed, exasperated that you had to defend your case once again. it had been days since the decision was made; you were going to make a trip to another part of the island in hopes to find extremely specific materials for one of senku’s projects... and it was far, far away.

quite frankly, you were the only one fit for the adventure. you were known to travel well on foot, had an exceptional sense of direction and you had a good eye for natural elements, as well as food; you also were unintentionally the least helpful when staying in the village. you didn’t have the crafting skills to successfully make glass or metal components for his experiments, and you never trusted your brain when helping senku with calculations and blueprints.

hearing senku and gen talk about this long trip to another part of the island was almost a dream come true. it was perfect for someone with your skillset, and kept you from being in the way of everybody else.

“it’ll be fine. c’mon, you guys have SOME faith in our traveler, right?”

you turned around, a smile on your face as you caught senku walking out of his lab. thank you, you mouthed.

once senku reached you and the group of villagers crowding near you, he spoke up again. “this trip is a straight shot from the bridge, the only problem would be that it’s going to take some time. possibly a month just to get there. but you,” he turned to face you,”have excellent outdoorsy-type skills that will make it really easy for you to spot what we need right away. everyone needs to stop worrying, because you’ll be there and back in no time. two months will pass like nothing.”

as the rest of the group walked away, mumbling their skepticisms, senku took your hand and tugged you back to the lab.

“what’re you taking me here for? oh wait,”you planted your feet at the front of the lab curtains, keeping the both of you from entering. “are you making me help you with your math again? because—”

“no, you’re pretty terrible at calculations,”he replied. “i have something for you.”

you puffed out your cheeks in embarrassment, but your expression completely changed once the curtain was opened.

on the table, there was a telephone. if was the size of a backpack, but it still had a speaker, a microphone, and a call button.

“i made it for you to take on the trip, in case you have any emergencies. i fully trust you in your own survival skills, but you never know if something extreme happens.”

you gave his hand a squeeze before letting go. as you walked closer to the table, you touched the outer fabric. you turned back to senku. “thank you.”

“you don’t have to thank me. i’m only making something that’s essential to your travels.”

“even still,” you trailed off. “i appreciate it.”

you turned back around and beamed at senku. “i’m not going to call you until i get there. i want to make sure that no enemies try to tail me if they hear me, as much as i’d want to give in right away and hear your voice. something like that...”

“how corny.” senku smiled and pulled you close while you laughed. you jumped a bit when his hands made their way around your waist.

“a bit touchy today,” you asked, grabbing hold of his shoulders. “but i’m not complaining.”

“i’m stockpiling the feeling of you for the weeks to come. we’ve never spent this much time apart before; it’s only logical.”

“i guess you’re right.”

he kissed you, multiple times; each one was deeper than the last.

day eleven.

he brought me a flower every morning, because i always slept in later than him. he’d wake up at the asscrack of dawn, just to have more time to jot ideas down. i used to try and pull him back to sleep with me, but he was so overflowing with plans, i didn’t want to stop him.

you turned on your side.

i remember he went to explore with chrome really early one morning, and apparently they found some huge meadow with a bunch of plants. ever since then, he would bring me a different kind; it was always a single flower, too. they were different colors and shapes, and some were enormous and some were smaller than my finger. he never woke me up for it, though. he would just leave it for me when i woke up on my own. it was always a surprise, almost startling when i’d open my eyes. it was my own pick-me-up for the day, in a sense.. no matter what happened the night before, waking up to a new type of flower would put me in a good mood every time. it was better than a coffee in the morning.

i wonder if he’s looking at the flowers with chrome everyday while i’m gone. man, i still wake up hoping to see a new one in front of me.

sure, reminiscing was fun and felt good, but what’s the point? you had eaten all of your food approximately two days ago, you only had about a teaspoon of water left, and there was no getting out of there. the way you came in had been covered in a dam of rocks. you couldn’t even dig yourself out.

you furiously wiped the tears that fell from your eyes. “senku...why did i think i could go alone?”

day fifteen.

poke, poke—

something was touching you. no, someone was touching you. your head bobbed side to side, in an attempt to shake them off.

damn, that’s persistent.

opening your eyes, you woke up to senku smiling. he was knelt beside your form. “wake up, sleeping beauty! it’s been almost three hours.”

it’s only been three hours?!

you sat up way too fast, and felt lightheaded as you tried to ask,”but...why didn’t you.. wake me up earlier? did everybody...did everyone eat already?”

he laughed. “yeah, sorry. we all thought you were out doing something with chrome. but,” he turned around, to grab something behind him,”i saved some in case you got hungry when you came back.”

you took the food in a dizzy haze. was it even food? you didn’t care too much, it felt like you hadn’t eaten for a long time. any food at this point was good food.

you couldn’t even swallow the first bite. “do you- is there..any water?”

“what?” senku pulled away from you, a look of disbelief painted across his face. it was clear as day.

you hesitated, feeling more lightheaded than before. “w- water?”

“don’t you remember?” he asked. he turned away from you. “there hasn’t been any water in days.”

it’s been days.

your body jolted from its spot, and harsh reality hit you square in the face.

yes, right. you shakily rubbed your eyes to make sure they weren’t cemented shut.

in the cave, finished your food, no water to be found. making yourself walk around was no use, either; without the fuel, your body was essentially just a trembling mess.

you scowled at yourself; unsure of what to do, what to even think.

day eighteen.

you remembered how he kissed you. the first kisses the most; you always had to tell him to not look so terrified. you also had to remind him to not stand like a statue when you kissed. pretty soon, after some reassurance, he got comfortable. there was nothing but confidence in the way he caressed your face in his hands. usually he was the one to pull away; you were so mesmerized, it felt as if the world completely stopped.

they were always quick and out of the way in public. usually, it was on your forehead or your one of your cheeks. the deep kisses you felt when you two were alone were incomparable. soft lips remained on yours for what felt like centuries. he tasted sweet, in his own way—

wait, who?

you licked your lips slowly, trying to think.

it was no use; you couldn’t even remember what he looked like. you lolled your head to the side and stared at the outline of a rock a couple of feet away.

once i get out of here, i’ll kiss him. whoever it was. it won’t matter if it’s just us, or more people. i’ll kiss him forever.

maybe if i go to sleep.. i can see him again.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Into The Woods

Warnings: noncon sexual acts; vaginal, anal.

This is dark!Lumberjack!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re sent to make a delivery to the man in the woods.

Note: This is for @imanuglywombat​ and @nellblazer​‘s Lumberjack Challenge. I couldn’t see if they were accepting dark fics so if they aren’t, I guess it’s just another fic lol. But anyways, the challenge inspired me.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“You sure Dezy isn’t going to make it?” You asked as you helped Gerry load the crate onto the trailer. 

“I’m sorry, I got all the other deliveries sent out with Milo but this one’s too far for him.” Gerry grunted as he closed the back of the open-top trailer. “I don’t know what’s gotten into Dezy. Second day in a row and yet I hear he’s down at the Horse every night.”

“Well, he’ll run out of beer money sooner than later,” You sighed as you pulled on your gloves. The air was starting to bite as the brief autumn was turning. “You sure you can manage without me?”

“Slow day in the shop,” He shrugged. “You just be careful.”

“Alright. I’ll do my best.” You climbed up onto the four-wheeler and fumbled with the thick key with the grizzly bear charm attached to it. “Maybe next time give me the easy ones.”

“I’ll tack an hour of overtime on your pay, how about that?” He chuckled. “You need to get out anyway. I know this place is small but you can’t spend all your time reading those harlequins in the dry good section.”

“They’re not harlequins,” You turned the engine and raised your voice as you gripped the handlebars. “They’re fantasy, Ger.”

“Sure, sure,” He backed away. “You go or you won’t make it back by sundown.”

“Never far off these days,” You mused as you revved. “See ya, Gerry. Don’t forget to down stock the fishing wire.”

“Which one of us is the boss?” He called after you as you pulled out, the small trailer rumbling behind you.

You turned off at the end of the street, past the business fronts that looked like cabins. The town looked straight out of Western but with more snow. The first of the annual powder had yet to fall but you could feel it coming. You headed over the lumpy tundra past the sparse trees that grew thicker the further you got. The paths turned narrower and you steered slowly through the damp forest.

You only went so far out when your uncle took you ice fishing and rarely in this direction. You slowed as the path grew more uneven, carefully traversing the thick roots and deep valleys. The noise of the engine bounced off the trunks of trees around you. It was more than an hour before you reached your destination. At least, you thought you were in the right place. Weren’t too many cabins hidden in these trees; well not many still inhabited.

You pulled into the clearing and killed the engine. You hopped off the ATV and stretched your legs, your thighs tingled from the rumble. You went to the trailer and open the door and slid out the heavy trunk. You braced yourself before you lifted and gave a grunt. You’d packed the load yourself. You carried it past the old motorcycle and the neat stack of wood which marched the way to the broad front porch. You slowly ascended the three steps up and set down the heavy crate beside the door.

A bench made of logs, likely by hand, stood just a few feet from the front door, a woven blanket folded over the seat. The curtains were drawn within and you started to wonder if there was anyone there or if this was just another forgotten scene. It all seemed so eerily still.

You knocked and waited for an answer. Nothing. You tried again with the same result. Then, after a cold silence, you heard a door open and snap shut but it wasn’t the one before you. You turned as a man appeared beside the far corner of the porch. He appeared disturbed by your presence as he emerged from the old shed, his flannel jacket marked with patches of dirt and his dark hair poking out from beneath a woolen cap.

“He usually just leaves it there,” He clapped his gloved hands together as he brushed away the filth. “Thanks.”

“Uh, sorry,” You turned and ambled down the steps. “I didn’t realise.”

“Don’t be sorry,” He stayed near the corner, kicking his foot up onto the stump where an ax waited to be used. “Better get going before the sun beats you.”

“Sure,” You went back to the four wheeler. His eyes bore into you as you climbed up. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just--”

“Thanks,” He said again. “Driving out here all this way. Appreciate it.”

“No problem,” You turned the key. “Have a good day, sir.”

The engine roared to life and you carefully turned around, the empty trailer clattering behind you. You couldn’t help but feel him watching you still. You wanted to look back, but didn’t. You twisted the throttle and delved back through the treeline. You hoped Dezy would get his shit together, you weren’t keen on doing deliveries.

🪓

The next day, you were back to your usual fare. You stood at the long counter of Elk’s General, watching the locals as they wandered in and out, perusing the aisles of groceries, clothing, or novelty goods. You rung them through on the outdated till and smiled after them as they left with their paper bags.

The usual midday lull came and you pressed flat your latest read on the counter. You crossed your arms over the edge and bent over the pages, losing yourself in the fantastical medieval setting. Gerry didn’t mind so much as you kept an eye on customers. 

The rusty bell above the entrance tinkled and you looked up suddenly. You turned your book over before you could lose your place. You stood up straight and smiled at your newest customer but froze as his eyes met yours. It was the man from the day before, to whom you had delivered the weeks worth of goods.

He ignored your usual greeting and marched over to you. He planted the bill for his delivery on the counter.

“I ordered six cans of maple beans. I have only four.” He said plainly.

“An oversight. I’m sorry, sir. Just a moment.” You gulped and flitted off to check the shelf. There were only the tomato beans in stock. You went to the back room and checked there. Nothing. You returned to the counter. “Looks like we’re all out but I’ll make a note to have them delivered when we get more. Or we can remove the charge from your bill.”

“Keep ‘em on,” He said as he reached into his pocket. “I can wait.” He unfolded the worn leather wallet. “I have to pay my account anyway.”

“Sure,” You reached to slid his bill closer and keyed the amount into the machine. “You could have called--”

“I don’t have a phone,” He growled as he counted out the bills. “I don’t like to be disturbed.”

You took the money and counted it. You avoided his gaze guiltily. You sorted the bills in the cash door and handed him his change. His gloves brushed your skin and he tucked the money away with his wallet.

“Good book?” He pointed to the novel.

“Alright, so far,” You answered quietly.

“I read his other one. The one set in Ancient Egypt. It was… interesting. Not my usual reading material though.” He tapped his fingers on the counter. “You have a good day, miss.”

He turned and left you as you returned his farewell. The door snapped shut behind him and you looked back down at the book. You opened the front page and read the list of works by the same author. You’d have to look into them.

🪓

Several days late, you were helping Gerry restock shelves with the newly acquired truck. The night before, you’d helped unload it and left it for the next day to sort through. Dezy sat behind the counter, half-keeled over on the stool, trying not to puke into his hands.

“Damn shit is hungover again,” Gerry muttered. “I got a whole list of deliveries today and he can’t even stand straight.”

“I can do it,” You offered. “Long as he can manage the till.”

“I don’t know if I even trust him to do that,” Gerry said. “You sure you wanna do the deliveries?”

“We got any of the maple beans on the truck?” You asked.

“A good amount.” He said.

“We owe two cans to-- well, I didn’t get his name. The man who lives way up in the trees.” You frowned, only then realising you new nothing about him. In that town, everyone knew everyone.

“Mr. Barnes?” Gerry reached over into the box and moved around several items before pulling out a can. “Quiet man. Doesn’t like to be bothered. Must’ve scared Dezy good to get him to shut up.” He took out two more cans. “If you’re willing to head up that way, you give him and extra can on me. He’s the only customer in town who pays on time.”

“Sure,” You stood, thankful not to be forced to kneel all day at the shelves. “The list?”

“Pinned up behind the counter as usual,” He caught a box of Corn Pops he hit with his elbow and swore. “Take a radio. Snow’s comin’.”

“Will do,” You said. “I should be that long.”

“Chill blowin’ in from the lake, bundle up before you go too.” He said.

“You sound like my mother.” You laughed.

“I feel like you’re mother,” He shook his head. “Now go, before I get sentimental.”

🪓

Gerry was right, it was cold. The four-wheeler seemed slower as the wind swirled around you. You stopped by each house and knocked before leaving your haul. You smiled away tips and bid each resident a good day before you rushed away under the protests of another delivery ahead of you.

Your last would take the longest, though it was the smallest. The tree cans rattled around the trailer so you stopped at the shop before you continued on and detached it. You placed the cans in a small box and secured it to the seat behind you with bungee cords. You fixed your gloves and pulled your cap over your ears before you set out once more.

The sky grew paler the later it got. A harbinger of snow. You took the same route as before, getting off once to push the ATV over a fallen branch caught beneath it. You carried on, the frigid air lashing your cheeks.

You drew up to the clearing as you had before. The motorcycle was gone, likely pushed into the shed in preparation for the first snowfall. The piles of wood had grown taller and the front door was open, the screen door a poor barrier to the looming winter.

You unhooked the box and climbed up the steps. You bent to set it down and be off. You looked up as you sensed something on the other side of the screen door. The man, Mr. Barnes, stared at you through the mesh, a mug in hand. You stood and smiled nervously.

“Your beans. An extra can for the inconvenience.” You said. “Have a good day, sir.”

You turned but caught yourself before you made it down one step as he spoke. 

“It’s pretty cold.” He remarked as he took the box in his free hand. “You like coffee? I just made a pot.”

“I appreciate it,” You turned to him. “But I don’t mean to impose on you.”

“I wouldn’t ask if you were,” He said stiffly. “I’d feel worse letting half a pot go to waste.”

“I don’t know, I should--” You glanced behind you at the trees.

“You came all this way to give me beans in this,” He held the door with his elbow and stepped through. “You don’t like coffee, I got tea.”

You took a breath as you looked back to him. “Sure. I’ll have some coffee.”

He nodded and stared at you. He blinked and moved to hold the door open. “Well, you wanna come inside? Or do you prefer your coffee frozen?”

“Uh, yeah, okay,” You kicked yourself and stopped right before the door. You smiled awkwardly and offered your name. “I just… figured you wouldn’t want a stranger in your home.”

“Bucky,” He returned and waved you inside. “Not many strangers in town. Not really.”

You entered and he followed you. The entryway was lit by an antique lamp and the front room was entirely dark. You knelt to unlace your boots as he stepped around you. You kept your coat on as the wind continued to seep in behind you.

“Kitchens just down the hall past the stairs,” He said as he continued across the wooden floor. 

“Okay,” You slid your boots off and stood, following his shadow to the kitchen. 

As you passed through the doorway, he placed his mug on the table and went to the cupboard. He took down another thick ceramic cup and sidled over to the stove. He filled it from the percolator and returned to the table to place it before you.

“Milk? Sugar?”

“I’m fine, black is good,” You accepted as he slid the cup over to you.

You sat, hesitantly, and removed your gloves. You tucked them in your pocket and wrapped your hands around the steaming cup. He pulled out another chair and sat. He looked into the mug and slowly drank from it.

“I didn’t know anyone still lived out here.” You said.

“Sometimes,” He answered carefully. “Spring and summer I spend working the lumberyards south of here.”

“And you live all the way up here?” You wondered. He gave you a sharp look. “Sorry, it’s just… curiosity.”

“I like it,” He shrugged. “It’s quiet.”

You nodded and resigned yourself to silence. You listened to the wind outside and looked around at the tidy kitchen. Most of the original structure remained, renovated but not replaced. Even the curtains seemed to be of another era; faded but without holes or tears. All the way up here, time always seemed to stand still.

“You finish your book?” His voice jolted you.

You looked back to him and sipped the hot coffee. You nodded again.

“I did.” You answered. “It was alright.”

“Just alright?” He asked. 

“I’ve read better and worse,” You said. “It was… entertaining.”

“Mmm,” He mumbled and drank his coffee. You mimicked him, eager to leave.

Ten minutes of silence and stunted small talk left your mug empty and your stomach gurgling. You stood and nervously teetered on your feet.

“I should go. It’s snowing already.” You glanced out the window.

“Sure,” He rose and gathered up the mugs and took them to the sink.

“Thank you.” You said and turned rigidly to head through the door. 

You trod down the hallway and stopped to pull on your boots. You adjusted your cap and shoved your gloves on. He neared and you pushed open the door and glanced back at him.

“Coffee was good.” You said.

He caught the door behind you and you marched across the porch. You rushed down the steps and shivered as you neared the four wheeler.

“Be careful,” He said in monotone. 

“I will, thank you,” You called back as you climb onto the seat. “Enjoy your beans.”

He waved and you turned the engine. You backed up and turned around. The snow had already left a thin powder across the ground. You steered into the trees and carefully began to weave around the trunks and along the uneven forest floor. 

The snow thickened the more it fell. You had to slow as the ride became more precarious. The downfall formed a thick carpet beneath the tires and soon, even beneath the shroud of branches, the snow formed a curtain all around you, making it nearly impossible to see. You stopped and left the motor rumbling.

You pulled the radio from its holster down beside the wheel well and turned the dial until you picked up the signal. It was static and crackled.

“Gerry? Gerry!” You held the speak to your lips. “Gerry?”

“Yeah, i--me, ---okay?” His voice went in and out.

“I’m okay but the snow is… I can’t see. It’s going to take me a while.”

“Wha-- breaking up--” The radio broke off with a high pitched scratch.

“Damn it!” You shouted and tried fixing the dial. It didn’t help.

You sat for a moment and put the radio back. You couldn’t stay and let yourself get snowed in. You’d have to keep going, slow but steady. You carefully pulled past the trees, blinking away the flakes as they gathered on your lashes. You stopped again to pulled your scarf higher over your cheeks and pressed on.

The third time you paused, you realised you were lost. A brief lull allowed your vision to clear and you had no idea where you were. You kicked the side of the ATV and cursed. You grabbed the radio again and turned it on.

“Gerry?” No answer. Several more tries with nothing but static.

You hung your head and clicked the radio off. You gripped the handlebars and looked around. You’d have to turn around and try to trace your way back but the snow was starting to get heavy again and--

“Hey,” You jumped as the voice sounded from behind you. “You okay?”

You turned to find Bucky standing by a tree. “How--”

“Looks like you just went in a big circle,” He said. “You’re about ten minutes from my place.”

“What are you doing out here?” You asked.

“Wanted to grab some kindling before the storm got too bad, then I heard you.”

“Kindling?”

“Dry it out, obviously, but might run out of what I have before this clears,” He looked up. “Look, it’s only gonna get worse. Why don’t you wait it out?”

“I don’t-- I can’t--”

“There’s more than enough room for both of us. Might be a bit dusty but… Wouldn’t feel right letting you get lost out here.”

You exhaled and looked at the radio.

“Alright,” You relented.

“I’ll lead the way.” He came up beside the ATV and passed to the front. “Just don’t get too close.”

“Okay,” You turned the throttle just a bit and kept a snail’s pace as he guided you.

He barely seemed bothered by the gusts or the deepening snow. Even as the air turned almost completely white, he didn’t waver though you squinted to keep an eye on him.

“You like beans?” He yelled back to you as he broke through to the clearing around his house.

“Maple beans?” You asked dryly.

“They go great with toast,” He said as he continued onto the shed and unlocked the wide doors. “Warm you right up.”

🪓

You sat at the table, alone. Bucky had excused himself after clearing his own plates. You still picked away at the beans and sausage, listening to the movement above. You scooped the last few bites up and swallowed, washing it down with a gulp of water. You stood and went to the sink to rinse your plate. As you set it in the rack, you were startled by a creak behind you.

“I cleared a bedroom for you. It’s a bit dusty around here.” Bucky said as he leaned against the door frame. “Bit cold, too. Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright,” The windows shuddered. “Better than out there.”

“I put some clothes out too. Might be a little big.” He explained. “Dinner okay?”

“Yeah, it was…” You tried to smile. “Alright. Um, just one second.”

You neared him and he moved aside. You went down the hallway to where your jacket was hung and pulled the radio out. He watched you as you fiddled with it and the speaker crackled on.

“Gerry?” You held it to your lips.

“Kiddo?” He said, clear but not entirely.

“I’m okay,” You said slowly as you held the button down. “Staying until storm clears. Call in morning.”

“Roger, kiddo,” He returned. “Be safe.”

You turned off the radio and placed it back in your coat pocket. You looked up at Bucky as he stared at you dully.

“Just wanted to make sure someone knew,” You said. “Wouldn’t want them to worry.”

“Of course not,” He said. “You want a beer?”

“What?” You were thrown off by the sudden offer.

“Beer. If you want you can grab a book from the study,” He pointed to the doorway opposite the front room. “Sit in front of the fire where it’s warm.”

“I’ll take the book,” You said. “I’m not much for beer though.”

“Hot chocolate? Tea?” He stepped a little closer.

“I’m fine,” You squirmed. “Thank you.”

‘Just let me know if you need anything,” He said softly. “Haven’t had a guest in a while but… I can be accommodating.”

🪓

You read three chapters before you found your way upstairs. Bucky showed you the room he’d prepared for you but didn’t say much more before he closed himself into his own. You changed into the long sleeve tee he left you and the jogging pants with the drawstring waist. You tucked your feet into the wool socks and rolled under the blankets. You were still cold. The top floor was entirely untouched by the fireplace below.

You drifted into a shallow sleep. Maybe an hour or two before you woke, shivering. You sat up and  reluctantly climbed out from beneath the covers. You took one of the blankets and wrapped it around you as you shuffled to the door. You slipped through, carefully not to let the hinges whine and plodded through the dark down the stairs.

In the front room, the fire burned a low amber. You crept over to it and took a log from the wrought iron basket just beside it. You placed it over the coals and stoked it with the poker until flames began to lick. You held your hands to the glow until you were no longer shaking.

You took a cushion from the couch and dropped it on the carpet. You laid down before the fire, wrapping yourself in the blanket as you basked in the warmth. You listened to the violent winds outside, softened by the heaps of snow which had gathered all around the cabin. Your eyes closed as you began to sink into the darkness around you.

You dreamt of the four wheeler, of the snow swirling around you, of losing yourself in the pure white. The trees curled and clawed at your as you were thrown from the seat. The snap of twigs filled your ears and your eyes snapped open. The fire popped as it burned, the room lighter but not much.

There was a heaviness around you. More than just the quilt, the thick arm wrapped around your middle held you close to the warmth at your back. Startled, you wriggled against the body and a groan slithered along your ear.

“What the--” You hissed as you grasped his wrist, his hand tucked beneath you. “What are you doing?”

“It’s cold,” His breath was hot as it seeped into your scalp. “You were shivering.”

“Let me go,” You tugged on him.

“Shhh,” He hushed. “It’s early.”

“Dude, not cool,” You pulled harder on his arm.

“Stop,” He said more firmly. 

“Get off of me.” You growled.

“You’re not a very gracious guest,” He snarled as he retracted his arm, only to grab your shoulder and push you flat on your back.

You latched onto his wrist, he was strong. He didn’t budge.

“You’re scaring me.”

“Scaring you?” He removed his hand. “How? What do you think I’m gonna do?”

He sat up, his broad shoulder stretched the waffled shirt he wore as he rubbed his eyes. He pushed his head back and took a deep breath. You pushed yourself up slowly beside him.

“What do you want me to do?” His hand settled on your thigh and he squeezed.

“Stop,” You tried to push his hand away and he flipped it to grasp yours. 

His grip slipped to your wrist and he twisted. He wrenched it over your head until you were forced onto your back. You cried out as he leaned over you, the blanket slipping entirely from your bodies.

“Came all this way for a few cans of beans,” He whispered. “Really?”

“Stop!” You repeated. “Please.”

“But you’re cold,” He uttered as he leaned closer. “You need to warm up… you’re shivering…” His nose touched yours. “Or… shaking?”

“Get--” His lips smothered yours as he shifted his body atop you. 

You struggled as he released your wrist and reached down to grab your knee as he forced his legs between yours. He bit your lip as he pulled and his hand clawed at the waist of the loose pants. He pulled until he snapped the string within and you kicked around him.

“What are you doing?” You beat on his shoulders. “Stop! Stop!”

“I don’t talk to people, they don’t talk to me,” He snarled. “I keep to myself. Even that dumb delivery boy of yours knows better.”

“No, no,” You slapped his chest as he sat up suddenly. 

He tore the pants down your legs until they were around your knees and pushed them up. The fabric kept you trapped beneath him, legs bent to your chest as he leaned over your once more. He brushed his nose against your cheek and snarled.

“You asked for this, honey,” He sneered. “You just couldn’t leave me alone… The way you smile at me, I can see it.”

“I was just--” You pushed against him. “--doing my job. Please, get off of me.”

He moved against you, his thighs pressed to yours as he felt between you. He pushed his own pants down and you tried to shove him off of you with your legs. You only made yourself dizzy.

The fire flickered against you, setting shadows across his features, his blue eyes caught the flame and glowed sinisterly. His rough finger tickled your cunt as he guided his cock along your folds. You grunted as you fought harder beneath him. He pressed along your entrance and you gasped, a horrified scream as he impaled you in a single thrust.

“Go on and scream.” He said. “No one will hear you. No one but me.” He jerked his hips and you cried out again. “I kinda like it.”

He moved his hips in sharp, short thrusts. He grunted with each, lower and lower, almost like satisfied purrs.

He sat up and hugged your legs to his torso as he rutted faster. He clung to you as if he was desperate, as if he couldn’t get enough. You scratched at the carpet. You whimpered each time he slammed into you, each tilt of his hips harder than the last. The clapping of your flesh mingled with your voices. You closed your eyes, holding back the sobs that threatened.

And then he stopped. Suddenly. He stayed inside of you as his grasp on you loosened. His body quivered and a low growl rose from him. He pulled out of you and pushed your legs aside to that you fell onto your side. Shakily, you pushed yourself, on knees and elbow you tried to crawl away, your pants tangled around your feet.

He grabbed your ankles and dragged you back as you slipped onto your stomach. He climbed over you, pinning your legs between his. He kneaded and pinched your ass, dusky, thick breaths rose from him. 

He pressed his thumb between your cheeks and you reached desperately for anything to get away. The edge of the carpet rolled in your grasp and you kicked your feet with a panicked whine. He pressed his thumb against your asshole and you shook your head as he buried your face in your arms. He pushed inside and you let out a shrill cry.

He poked in and out of you, your tight ring burned around his thumb. He withdrew it and forced his index finger in, then added his middle. Your pained groans only seemed to encourage him as he stretched you around a third finger.

He pulled his hand away and bent his arm over your shoulders as he lifted himself over you. He lined himself up with your ass as his hair hung around his head and brushed the back of yours. He took a breath and you held one in. He entered you slowly, letting out a choked grunt as you strained around him.

The tears pricked at your eyes and your arm shot up as you blind grabbed at air.

“Please, please, please. Stop.” You begged. “I can’t--”

He pushed deeper and your voice fizzled. He pulled back and thrust in again. Every time, he went a little further. Soon he was buried in you to his limit and you couldn’t breathe or move. He held himself inside of you and shuddered.

He began to rock and you moaned. Despite the pain, the fire that radiated from your core, it felt good. The more he did, the better it got. The pressure built, unlike any you’d felt before, and you gulped and groaned against the carpet. Shocked by him, by yourself.

He got faster and faster. Louder two as his snarls filled your head. You tensed and then in an instant, your strength drained from you. You came, harder than you had ever in your life. You murmured as your head lolled and he kept going.

He lifted his head and his fingers gripped the back of your neck as he lifted himself over you. He hammered into you from above as you lay prone and helpless beneath him. He exclaimed and you felt a warmth flow into you. 

He stopped and fell atop you. His weight held you down, suffocated you. His arm stretched up and he grabbed your hand, twining his fingers with yours.

“Stay as long as you like,” He rasped. “Snow’s not letting up anytme soon.”

[incorrectnessduskwood]

I know I'm just posting incorrect quotes but I wrote this on Sunday after more than six months without writing anything and I liked it, so I thought someone out there may like it too. Enjoy! :D

Pairing: Jake x Charlie (my MC)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, spoilers for ep 8

Charlie walked up the steps slowly, her backpack weighing down her shoulders, the take-out bags of Chinese clenched tightly in her left hand. She checked her phone the hundredth time since leaving her house, making sure she had gotten the right address. The restaurant in front of the motel was a pretty compelling evidence that yes, she was in the right place, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she had gotten something wrong; if she did, this was going to be a tad awkward for whoever was on the other side of the door.

Reaching the number 543, Charlie finally put the phone in her pocket, letting out a shaky breath out through her mouth. Pushing her hair out of her face, she closed her eyes and counted to five.

You’re fine. You’re in the right place. He’ll be happy to see you, you know that. Pissed maybe, but certainly happy too. Just knock on the door and everything will be okay

Finally, she knocked twice on the door, quiet enough so others wouldn’t hear but loud enough for him to hear; she only hoped he wouldn’t think she was one of the people that were after him. Time seemed to pass slowly and Charlie started to get restless. She tapped her foot on the floor, her breathing getting shakier with each passing second that she didn’t hear anything on the other side of the door. The bags in her hand were hot enough to warm her hand and she changed them to the her right hand, rasing her left one to knock again when there was finally shuffling in the room. Quietly, she waited for something to happen: for him to ask who it was, for him to start packing all of his things in a rush or for the door to open, she wasn’t sure which one.

Not bearing the silence and the lack of reaction, she finally talked, “You know, it’s kind of rude to leave a friend waiting outside in this weather. Specially when she has brought food.”

That, at last, got a reaction from him. Charlie heard footsteps, a loud noise followed by a curse, and the sound of the lock of the door. It didn’t open but she knew it wouldn’t take long anymore. He may not have known what her voice sounded like but he would know what to ask of her to know he’s safe; and she knew exactly what to answer.

“It’s also rude to just stop by the door when we both know you want to ask something so I’ll prove who I am.” No answer. With a sigh, she continued, “What was the first thing I asked about you when we started talking?”

Silence followed by some shuffling. Then, “You asked what kind of hack programs I use and I listed four of them to you.” Charlie smiled. I knew it was him. “What did you tell was your imagination about meeting me?”

“I imagined you were wearing your black hoodie, like you probably are now. I imagined your eyes looked so familiar because you are so familiar to me already. I imagined you would hold me in your arms and tell me everything would be okay because we were together.”

It took five seconds for the lock to turn and the door to open. Charlie stared at him with a soft expression, looking for his eyes to see the familiarity she knew she would find and learning what he really looked like; Jake was tall—a lot more taller than her—his long hair was as black as a moonless sky, his eyes a clear grey, dark bags from sleepless nights under them, his skin thin and pale from being closed off for so long. He was indeed using a hoodie, but this one was a dark blue instead of black, a Metallica T-shirt badly hidden under it.

Charlie knew he was staring at her just intently, memorizing her face, and she let him. She watched his eyes wander through her face, the lines around them softening and making him look a lot younger than he actually was. Amazement was etched in his face, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and Charlie thought she had never seen someone as beautiful as Jake; she wasn’t sure if it was because she was finally seeing him in front of her, or if it was because of the way he was looking at her, or if it was just the fact that she was so goddam happy for having found him. Whatever it was, Charlie was certain Jake was the most amazing human being she had ever seen.

After a few minutes, Jake finally let out a shaky breath and tentatively raised his hand towards Charlie, hovering it over her left shoulder. She gave one tiny step towards him, placing her own hand on his shoulder and softly pulling him towards her; it was the action Jake needed to pull her hard to his chest and bury his face on her hair, his arms closing tightly around her shoulders. Charlie moved her free hand to Jake’s hair, threading her fingers through it, and pressed her ear against his chest, listening to his heart beat as fast as her own.

She lost count of how long they stood there but, eventually, her bag started to weigh a lot more than it already did and she gently pushed Jake back enough to look at his eyes. “This is all good and great but we should probably get inside. It’s freezing, my bag’s heavy and the food is just getting cold.”

Jake chuckled, his cheeks blushing as he scratched the back of his neck and gave a step back. “Of course, I’m sorry. I guess my surprise overpowered me. Come on in,” he waved his arm towards the room, waiting for Charlie to enter before closing the door and locking it once again.

Placing her bag on the floor, Charlie looked around the room; the curtains were drawn shut, the bed was a mess of pillows and blankets, there were two duffles by the foot of the bed and an array of laptops and wires on the table. Nothing unlike what she had expected from Jake. She turned to him with a smile and offered him the take-out bags. “It won’t be exactly like you wanted but we do get to eat Chinese food.”

“I think the least of our problems are not being at the restaurant.” Jake took the bags from Charlie before placing them on an empty space at the table. He kept his back to her, seeming to be clearing some more space on the table. Charlie frowned, watching as Jake avoided her eyes when he closed the laptops and put them together on the bed.

“Jake? Are you okay?”

Jake’s shoulders tensed before turning back to her, his eyes shielded by a strand of her. “What are you doing here, Charlie? How did you find me?”

Charlie sighed, raising a hand to her shoulder to press on a tense muscle. “It wasn’t easy, I’m gonna give you that. But I knew what to look for and how to do it.”

“How? I mean, I didn’t know you could hack someone if you wanted to.”

“Well,” Charlie smiled, walking to one of the chairs. “I do have a few aces up my sleeve too. And after everything that happened, Richy, Thomas and Jessy finding the kidnapper and being so close they could’ve gotten caught, that last call from the kidnapper, I just…” Charlie sighed, burying her head in her hands. “I just needed not to be alone. And seeming as I promised you I wouldn’t go to Duskwood, I’m here. I’m sorry.”

She heard the other chair scrape the floor before she felt Jake’s hands on hers. He held them on her knees, his eyes staring at her. There were a few streaks of blue in them. “You don’t have to be sorry. I—I know it’s hard to be alone, believe me. And you’ll always be welcome by my side but Charlie… You’re putting yourself in risk by coming here.”

Charlie laughed humourleslly, pulling her hands from Jake’s and standing up. “Putting myself at risk? More than I already am? Have you seen everything that has happened since I joined the group? Richy being marked and then stabbed, Jessy getting attacked, Phil going to prison. Even you, Jake! I mean, they only found you because you were helping me, otherwise, Lilly wouldn’t even know about you and you wouldn’t have been included in the video. Did you listen to that last call the kidnapper made to me? Did you hear him saying he’s going to kill all of them and then me? How much more at risk can I be in after that?”

Jake didn’t say anything but Charlie could feel his eyes on her as she started to pace around the room. She avoided looking at him, breathing deeply to keep her emotions in check; the last thing she needed was to break down now. They still had a lot of work to do and she hadn’t heard anything from the others for hours and it was all starting to get too much. What if Jessy and Thomas were caught in the end? Did the Man Without a Face know where they live? Would he go after them like he said he would? What if the only thing she would find out would be the police calling to tell her all of them were dead? What she would do them? It would all be her fault, she would have let them all get killed and—

“Hey! Charlie! Look at me.” Jake’s hands were on her face, forcing Charlie to look into his eyes. “Breathe with me, okay? Come on. I don’t want you to pass out.”

Charlie took a deep breath, following Jake’s movements, looking into his eyes and trying to count all the different colours in them.When she finally calmed down, Jake helped her sit back on the chair, squeezing her shoulder caringly. Charlie watched as he opened the take-out bags, getting a little of each container on a plate before placing it on her hands. He then did the same with another plate and sat in front of her again, their knees touching as he stared into her eyes.

“I always find it easy to do things if I’m not hungry or even if I’m eating just because. I know it can also help with anxiety if you’re the type of person that eats when anxious, which, and I’m making an educated guess here, you are.”

She chuckled softly, looking down at the plate. “You do know how to make educated guesses. I’m guessing you like to eat while you hack into things?”

Jake shrugged, taking a bite of his food before replying, “I do. Clears my head and makes me less anxious.” Charlie nodded, trying some of the fried rice while ignoring Jake’s gaze. “Charlie, you know you can trust me, right? I know I’ve some mistakes along the way but it was never my intention to put you or any of them in danger. Whatever it is you’re feeling, I want you to know I’m here for you. You can tell me anything.”

“I know, Jake.” Charlie gave him a small smile and shrugged. “It’s just… I have never felt so powerless before, you know? I’m not the kind of person that likes to be controlled, that’s why I know how to fight, why I try to learn a little of everything to have at least some kind of knowledge if I meet someone that wants to talk or do something I’m not familiar with. But now?” Sighing, she looked back down to her food, pushing it around with her fork. “When Jessy was attacked, I couldn’t do anything but watch. The same thing with all the threatening calls and the in-site search and then with Richy—” Charlie’s voice broke and she swallowed back a sob. She felt Jake put a hand on one of her knees, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I had to hear him struggle without being able to do anything. Then I had to watch him choke on his own blood as he tried to tell me something I have no idea what it is. After he dropped the phone, I stared at it for so long, just looking at the sky, waiting, wishing for him to take the phone back, to say it was a joke.” Charlie’s eyes filled with tears and she put the plate on the table. “God, I wish this was all just a bad joke. A really, really bad joke.”

Arms closed around her shoulders and Charlie buried her face on Jake’s stomach, finally feeling the dam break. Jake only rubbed at her back, not saying anything.

“How many of them am I going to have to watch get attacked, Jake? Or killed? Jessy and Thomas barely escaped without any scratches from that house. Dan almost got killed in that accident. Even Cleo’s mom was threatened because of me. How much guilt do you think I can still take it? How much suffering can I put people through because I’m the one who’s a threat to the kidnapper?”

Jake let out a heavy sigh, hugging her tighter before letting go and kneeling in front of her. He took her face in his hands and raised her head so he could look straight into her eyes. “Charlie, I can’t answer that. Not so long ago, you asked me if I thought we had gone too far and I answered how far was too far when it came to someone’s life. You told me it was as soon as someone else was in danger and I see now that you were right. I’ve been so preoccupied with Hannah because she’s my sister and she and Lilly are my only family that I didn’t stop to think that everyone in the group mean something to you; they’re your friends, too.” Charlie nodded, feeling Jake clean a tear form her cheek. “And I should’ve seen that. I know I’m not the best at… understanding other people but I should’ve realized that everything that has happened had to have taken a toll on you just as it did when I saw Hannah getting kidnapped. Even worse because you had to experience things no one ever should have. And I’m so sorry, Charlie, I truly am.”

Charlie smiled sadly, placing a hand on Jake’s cheek. “You remember when I said I thought your eyes would look familiar to me?” He nodded, his expression changing to confusion. “This is what I meant. Even with everything that has happened, I can see everything you’ve shown me through the texts in your eyes. I can see your empathy, I can see how much you care about Hannah and finding her, and I can see your guilt too. Because you also feel it, don’t you? You feel like it’s your fault Hannah was kidnapped; because you weren’t fast enough to call to her.”

“You know,” Jake smiled, turning his head so he could kiss her palm. “You never cease to amaze me. You sometimes understand stuff in a way I can only dream of. Sometimes you know things I’d rather not have anyone know to not let them get too close but I can’t hide anything from you.”

“Well, you actually can hide things from me, for a while. I’ll just end up finding out anyway.”

“That is true. Just like you found out where I was. I’m still amazed by it, to be honest.”

“Okay, it actually wasn’t that hard either.” Jake raised an eyebrow at her and Charlie laughed, gently pushing him away so she could stand up. “I shouldn’t explain just to leave you curious about it and see what it’s like when you keep things from me. But I’m not that mean.”

Jake smiled, following her towards the kitchen. “That you really aren’t. Sarcastic, yes. Stubborn? Don’t even need to answer that. But mean? No, not really. So, how did you do it?”

“Well,” Charlie toyed with the glass in her hands. “Nym-0s is already connected to my phone, that’s why he was able to warm me of the attacks, right?” Jake hummed. “Which means it’s easier for me to actually get into your phone. And considering you weren’t expecting me to hack it, it means there are fewer protections against me. I only needed your location, which is fast to find, and here I am.”

“Who would’ve thought? Tricked by my own program.”

Charlie chuckled, placing the glass back on the sink and stepping towards Jake. “I’m happy you did or I wouldn’t have found you. And I really needed to find you.”

Jake’s expression softened and he opened his arms. Charlie didn’t hesitate before stepping into his embrace. “I think I needed you to find me too. You have no idea how many times I thought about asking where you were or for you to come to me, just so we could meet. Going through all of this alone is incredibly hard.”

She scoffed, shaking her head against his chest. “You can say that again. It’s also, like… I could’ve gone to Duskwood. I know I promised you I wouldn’t, but you wouldn’t be very surprised if I did.” Jake chuckled and hummed. “But I don’t know… I know everyone there is suffering too and would help and comfort me as much as they could, but none of them are you.”

“I know how you feel. I could’ve gone too. I mean, my two half-sisters are there and Lilly is probably suffering a lot more than I am, but it wouldn’t be the same as if I was with you. I felt a lot better talking to you by text than I would’ve if I had gone there. But now that you’re here,” Jake raised her head and Charlie could feel the ghost of his lips on hers. “I feel like I can take on the whole world and win.”

“You do know I don’t make you invincible, right?”

“Certainly feels like it.”

Charlie chuckled, shaking her head. “I feel invincible by your side too. Anyone comes our way, I’ll kick their asses.”

“I know you will.”

They stared at each other, their lips so close it was unnerving, and Charlie wasn’t sure what to do; she wanted nothing more than to just close the damn distance already, but she wasn’t sure if she could. How would Jake react if she did? Did he want it as much as her or would he panic and run away? She sure wouldn’t be able to take it if he did.

In the end, she didn’t have to do anything: Jake bent down and pressed their lips together, so softly Charlie sighed and melted against him, putting one arm around his waist and the other in his hair. Jake’s arms sneaked around her waist, pulling her even closer to him, and Charlie was sure they’d soon become, though she would never complain.

When they let go of each other, Charlie stared up at him with a smile, giddiness bubbling in her chest. Jake mirrored her smile, which only made her heart beat faster. Things weren’t okay yet and they still had a lot to do, but, like she said, as long as they were together, they were invincible and they would find a way to fix everything.

[joel-millerr]

Choices Are Made in an Instant

Chapter Six of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.1k

Summary: You and Mando help Ahsoka in battle. Then, when you get back to the Crest, he starts acting weird. You couldn't have been prepared for what happens next...

Warnings: SMUT, dom/sub mentions, mild choking, (maybe a bit of edging?) aftercare, graphic depictions of violence, a sprinkle of fluff. mando is possessive af during sexy time

---

“What’s the plan, again?” Mando asks you, not because he doesn’t know the plan, but because he wants to make sure you know the plan.

Scowling up at him as you sit on the floor of the Crest, Grogu slowly falling asleep in your lap, you roll your eyes when you see Mando put his hands on his hips like he’s annoyed with you. 

“Seriously?”

His head tilts to the side, and then shifts his weight over to one leg. For someone who doesn’t like to talk about their feelings, he sure does wear his emotions on his sleeve. Mando’s body language is a dead giveaway as to what’s going on under that bucket of his.

“Fine. If it’ll make you happy.” You pick the kid up off the ground and hold him in your arm as you explain to Mando—for the third time, what’s going to happen.

“Ahsoka will storm the main gate and engage the guards. You and I are going to walk around the wall and find a way into the village without getting seen. The Magistrate—”

“Morgan Elsbeth.” Mando chimes in.

“Yeah, whatever.” Using your free hand to wave him off because who cares what her name is? “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted—Ahsoka needs some information from Elsbeth so she’s off limits.”

“Good. You remember.”

“You know—”

“Yes?” He probes.

Lips forming a thin line, and realizing he’s just trying to rile you up you shrug it off and bite your tongue, instead opting to put Grogu down inside Mando’s bunk. The Child looks up at you with his big eyes, babbling incoherently. You wiggle your finger in front of him, causing him to giggle excitedly.

“Are you sure he’ll be safe here, alone?” You ask Mando over your shoulder, continuing to play around the kid.

“There’s no one else out here but us, and I’m going to engage the ground security protocols once we leave.” He explains as he fiddles through his armory, gently placing his pulse rifle back on its hook, and reaching over to his jetpack and strapping it to his back. “Nothing will penetrate the Crest.”

It doesn’t do much to ease your anxiety but since Mando seems comfortable with this, then this must be the safest place for him to be. Air exhales through your slightly parted lips as you turn to the armory and grab a vibroblade from Mando’s stock, strapping it to your right thigh. As time ebbs on, the sound of the blood pounding in your ears becomes louder and louder, and you’re unable to stop the steady thumping of your heart against your ribcage.  This feeling reminds you of spice running. The rush, the excitement, the worry of not knowing what could happen or if part of the plan could go wrong; it’s something you’ve always chased after.

The plan is almost foolproof, so you shouldn’t worry. Of course, the thought of something going wrong is always there in the back of your mind, but how often do you see a Jedi, a Mandalorian, and a smuggler working together? You’re almost certain this is the first time in the galaxy that this has happened, so how could you fail?

As you make your way to the ramp, you feel a rough leather glove grab hold of your wrist, and turns you around gingerly to face the Mandalorian.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks, tone low and husky, and it strokes that part inside of you that forces you to rub your thighs together.

No matter how much time you two can spend being around each other, the moment you’re standing only inches apart—you can’t stop your heart rate from picking up. Your mouth dries up like the sand dunes on Tatooine, and the only thing you can focus on is how fucking intoxicating this man is.

“You can stay here with him.”

His hand is still on your wrist, and you look down to where leather meets your skin. His thumb brushes small, gentle circles on your wrist; an otherwise small token of affection, but taking into consideration that Mando is willingly giving you such a gesture, it makes you heart do cartwheels.

“And miss all the action?” A smile stretches across your face, arching an eyebrow at him. “No way, Mando.”

“What if something goes wrong?”

“Then you’ll need all the help you can get.”

He whispers your name softly and drawls out exhale that cuts up through his vocoder, as if your name is his way of begging you to reconsider. The ‘T’ of his visor stays glaring at you, but it’s damn near impossible to sway you from doing something once you’ve set your mind on it, so no matter how he stares, it won’t make much of a difference. He knows this isn’t a battle he’ll win. Your free hand reaches out, fingertips brushing against his elbow, hoping your touch will help calm his apprehensiveness about you coming along.

“Mando, I’ll be fine. I know you like to worry, but I’ve been in plenty of worse situations and I’m still here.”

Making a noise deep in the back of his throat, he gives you a quick nod and lets go of your wrist. A groan threatens to escape through your lips at the sudden lack of touch, but you manage to keep it under control as he breezes passed you, hearing his boots hit the durasteel ground as he descends the side ramp of the Crest. Taking one last deep breath and looking at Mando’s cot where Grogu is resting, you walk over to the panel by the door, and whisper “We’ll be back soon, kid,” before pressing the button to close the door, watching it come down with a hum. You turn on your heel and march down the ship to meet Mando, who waits patiently for you to join him before using his vambrace to shut the ramp.

You tread towards the village in a comfortable silence. Nightfall is especially unnerving here. The air feels dirty, like dust and ash mixed together, trekking through large gusts of wind as it almost knocks you off your feet. The sky is a dark mossy green, glooming over you, almost like there’s an ominous presence watching the night unfold. Three clicks away from the wall is where you meet Ahsoka. She’s wearing a long robe that aides her in hiding within the shadows, the hood pulled over her montrals, cloaking them from being detected. Her lightsabers, not laser swords like you thought they were called, dangle off her waist. You eye them curiously, wondering how it must feel to wield one of them. The thought makes you chuckle. If you really wanted to know what it felt like to hold such a beautiful weapon in your hand, you just had to find someone to train you, and then you’d be privy to it. A problem for another time, though. Right now, you had more important matters to worry about.

Just as you reach the woodland edge, Ahsoka turns to you and Mando and once again repeats the Magistrate is not to be harmed.

“Save the prisoners,” She reiterates.

Offering her a nod and a smile of reassurance, her hand touches your forearm, squeezing it gently. Mando detaches his right pauldron—the one with his signet engraved and hands it to Ahsoka. It looks like a mudhorn signet. You’re reminded of what Grogu had shown you just a few days ago. Mando battling the ferocious beast, and the Child, watching him on the brink of death, feeling his need to save the Mandalorian.

“We’ll go around the perimeter,” He announces, shooting you a quick look that you acknowledge by dipping your head downwards. “Just make my death believable.”

The corners of Ahsoka’s lips curl upwards. “Don’t worry about that.”

You and Mando break off, choosing to go to her left. Being mindful of where you walk, and making sure not to rise any suspicions by making noise and accidentally stepping on a broken twig, your eyes shift constantly between the ground and the giant wall just a few metres in front of you. Given your experience with sneaking around, you’re basically a master at keeping to the shadows.

Once Mando’s content with the distance you’ve put between yourselves and Ahsoka, he scans the area of lifeforms with his helmet. Beckoning with his hand, he moves forward with you following closely behind him. You crouch over, making yourself seem as small as you head straight for the fortified village.

“We’re going to have to climb it.” He says, realizing the sound of his jetpack would be too loud and alert the guards.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to sneak around,” You jest.

Mando lifts an arm towards the top of the rampart and a grappling line shoots out from his vambrace, flying right over the top of the duracrete wall and latching onto the parapet. Tugging the rope to make sure it’s got enough of a sturdy grip for both of you to scale, he hands you the wire to climb first. Blood pounding in your ears and your heart racing faster than the fathier races on Canto Bight, you take the line from Mando’s hand and pull on it hard enough until your body is leaning backwards.

Your left foot presses against the rampart, making sure to balance yourself properly before your other foot hits the wall, then you begin scaling it. Mounting it quickly, you make it to the top in just under a minute—you can’t help but be impressed with yourself.

Once you climb over the parapet, you crouch down immediately, head whipping to the left then to the right to make sure there aren’t any soldiers in sight. In the distance you hear cries of pain, whooshing, and a loud bang. Ahsoka must have engaged the guards by now.

Taking notice that the coast is clear, you beckon for Mando to join you, and he scales the duracrete wall, beating your time by just a couple of seconds. Show off.

The village is a good… maybe thirty or forty feet drop, and the thought makes you groan. Already you can feel the ache in your legs and knees, but better to get it over with. As you’re about to jump off the wall, Mando’s arm comes flying out across your torso.

“What the hell are you doing?” He whispers through gritted teeth.

Standing there somewhat dumbfounded, your eyebrows pull closely together. “I was going to jump?”

“And break your legs in the process?” He asks rhetorically. Then, without waiting for your answer, he coils the grappling line around his arm that you used to scale the rampart and drops it on the other side of the wall.

“Are you sure you’ve done this before?”

Your eyes dart over to Mando’s eye slit, narrowing them as you watch him climb down just as fast as he came up. When you hear him reach the ground and taking one last look around, you grab onto the line and head down into the village.

The fighting in the distance has stopped, you hope that means Ahsoka’s made it through the barricade of guards. Darting between alleys through the village, you can hear her voice echoing in the distance.

“Your bounty hunters failed.”

Making sure to keep your centre of gravity low as you continue to navigate through the huts, you follow Mando on his heels until you see Ahsoka in your sights. She’s standing just a few metres away from Elsbeth, who has her own platoon of armed soldiers behind her, holding the staff in her hand, alongside the gunslinger Lang.

“Tell me what I want to know.” Ahsoka says, voice calm and stern. “Where is your master?”

Elsbeth stays silent for a few seconds, scowling at Ahsoka, eyes burning into hers, rage all but spilling out of her words. “Kill her.”

Lang takes a step forward, hands gripping his gun fiercely as he says with amusement, “Love to.”

A blast of red shoots out from his gun, narrowly missing her as she jumps onto one of the roofs. Her lightsabers come to life, beams of white whirl around her as she blocks an onslaught of blaster fire. You want to help her, to take down just even one of the guards, and Mando seems to sense your urgency because he grips onto your arm as a warning. You can’t blow your cover, not yet. The guards need to follow Ahsoka and leave the prisoners alone so you and him can free them.

The Magistrate instructs Lang to take her battle droids with her before turning on her heel and stalking back towards her fortress. She orders the remaining two guards by her side to execute the prisoners. Shrieks and cries fill the air as the prisoners start begging for their lives, and then your feet move before your brain takes notice, running straight for the guards before Mando can pull you back into the shadows.

You come up behind the soldiers, just as one aims their gun to one of the men strung up. Your hand flies to your blaster, unholstering it and shooting him right between the shoulder blades. He cries and falls to the ground with a loud thud. The remaining guard pivots towards you, aiming his own rifle at you but is shot down by Mando before he can pull the trigger.

“You were supposed to wait for my signal,” He hisses through the helmet as he appears from behind one of the houses to join you.

“You were taking too damn long.”

“And why the hell is the safety on your blaster not on?”

Narrowing your eyebrows, your mouth opens to answer but you have trouble finding the words. “Uh—is that reallyimportant right now?”

He doesn’t answer, but sighs somewhat angrily. Okay…

In the corner of your vision, you see the elderly man from yesterday emerge from one of the huts. Out of reflex, you catch Mando pointing his blaster at him. The man’s palms fly up in defense and freezes. They exchange a series of glances, ending with Mando placing his blaster back in his holster. They make their way to one of the prisoners, trying to gauge how to free him without hurting him or themselves.

The sounds of gunfire in the background catch your attention. Looking over to Mando and the elderly gentlemen, you really want to go out there and fight.

What if Ahsoka needs backup?

Surely, you should help her, right?

Hands fidgeting at your sides, your body racing on adrenaline and the urge to make these soldiers pay for what they’ve done, you take one last glance over to Mando who instinctively looks back at you. By his body language, you know he understands what you want because he squares his shoulders and takes a tentative step towards you. Shaking his head, slowly but nothing shy of authoritative, basically warning you not to go after her. Giving him a shrug and lips forming a tight line, you whip your body towards the sounds of gun fire and disappear into the shadows.

“Get back here!” Mando’s voice come from the commlink on your wrist as you continue zig zagging through the city, following the sound of gunfire. Ignoring him, you turn the volume down on your commlink until it’s fully muted, as to not draw any attention to yourself. Your body is running entirely on the electricity pumping through your bloodstream right now. Senses heightened to a degree you’ve never experienced before. The wind brushing against your hot cheeks, hearing the thumping of your heart in your ears, you feel everything so much stronger, now. Maybe it’s because you’ve never being in such a gritty battle like this, but it’s so much more intense than any spice run you’ve ever done.

Navigating through the huts and keeping yourself hunched over, you look out for any potential threats, coming up on dead-end after dead-end. You’re running out of time, and need to find Ahsoka now.

A hand touches down on your shoulder, causing you to gasp a little too loudly. Reaching over your chest and gripping the hand tightly, you twist your body around to face them while pulling downwards on their arm, vibroblade flying into your free hand. Relief overcomes you when you see it’s Ahsoka.

“Felt like you were missing out?”

You give her a smile, tucking the blade back into its strap on your thigh, hand clutching your chest as you try to come down from the sudden alarm. “Little bit.”

The moment is short lived when a blast of red gunfire flies by the back of your head, missing you by only inches. Ahsoka wraps her arm around your back, pushing you behind her as her lightsabers come alight once again, using them to dodge and ricochet incoming fire. As she continues to block blasts, a guard emerges from behind you, giving you only a second of time for your blaster to come out of its holster and into your hand, shooting them down with two blasts. Just as his body hits the ground, a second soldier comes right for you from the left. Your free hand shoots up close to your body, palm facing him. Taking a step forward, your arm straightens out and the power of it sends the guard flying backwards, hearing his skull hit the ground with an echoing crack.

You don’t have time to process it, to think about the fact that you’ve just heard that man’s skull split because you propelled him so aggressively into the ground. Turning your body back towards Ahsoka, she continues to fight off blasts, one of them knocking a lightsaber out of her hand and sending it flying through the air, landing just a couple feet behind you. Without even taking a second to think about it, you dash for the lightsaber, gripping it with your hand just as you fall over onto your stomach. A black gloved hand grabs hold of your shoulder, flipping you onto your back. The man crouches down and presses his body into yours, each leg on either side of your body, pinning you to the ground. You wrestle for a few seconds, dodging some punches but ultimately taking a couple hits to your stomach. All of a sudden, a bright white light nearly blinds you—the lightsaber buzzes to life, and then you’re pushing it in your hand through the man’s chest, screaming as it impales him. The sound of flesh sizzling against the lightsaber makes your skin crawl, never before hearing such a foul noise. Maker, even the smell is agonizing. Something you never thought you’d ever experience. You’ve cauterized wounds before, but that was just kissing the skin. This? Fuck, this went through his body, burning his skin, bones, and whatever organs were in the saber’s way. Ego and pride aside, it makes you nauseous. Pushing his limp body off yours and rising to your feet, the smell still lingering in your nostrils, you attempt to shake it out of your mind and wrench your eyes shut for a moment. This isn’t the time to dwell on things.

Feeling the lightsaber in your hand, something in you changes. Everything stills for a moment. All of the insecurities you had about yourself, the feeling of having lost your way, not knowing which path to choose, it all comes together. The answer is around your fingertips, its power clearing your mind of the questions you so desperately wanted the answers to. For the first time in your entire life, you feel at peace, like you finally found your place in the galaxy.

A new power courses through your veins, enabling you to take down enemy after enemy with Ahsoka’s lightsaber. As you battle in between the huts, your eyes meet hers for a brief moment, and it’s almost like she understands how you’re feeling. After cutting down the last guard, your chest is heaving, body shaking as it burns off the adrenaline that was exuding from your body just seconds ago. You head over to where Ahsoka is standing, a pile of bodies surrounding her. Mindful not to step on anyone, you tiptoe around them and hand her her lightsaber.

“And?” She asks, head cocked to the side.

You can’t even find the words. How can you even describe such a feeling? All your anxieties solved in just one moment. Jaw nearly dropping to the floor, you want to say something but the only thing coming from your mouth is a laugh. Ahsoka smiles back, but it quickly disappears, leaving you to look into her eyes, she seems…sad? You want to ask her what’s wrong, but you table it for another time.  

As you both make your way back to the main street of the village, she treks along the rampart of Elsbeth’s fortress. Once you clock the second gate ahead of you, Ahsoka leaps onto to the top of the wall, leaving you to meet Mando on the main road. Keeping to the shadows of the little houses around you, you see him standing just a few feet shy of the wall, hand hovering over the blaster strapped to his thigh. Towards the end of the cobblestone street is Lang, hands on his rifle.

No one speaks for a moment; Lang’s eyes shift between Mando and Ahsoka who stands at the top of the rampart. Your body is still shielded in the shadows, gauging Lang’s body language; waiting for the right moment to show yourself. Finally, Ahsoka turns her body and jumps into the Magistrate’s home, leaving you, Mando, and Lang behind.

“So, you threw in with the Jedi.”

Taking a quick look around, and noticing you to his right, he answers Lang, “Looks that way.”

Maker, you’ll never get tired of looking at him. Broad shoulders pushed back so his all-encompassing chest is on full display, practically toying with Lang because he knows they’ve lost, it’s not only intoxicating how much he turns you on, but it’s quite frankly obscene how your pussy gushes at the sight of him. His ability to stay calm, even when he’s seething with anger. It’s easy to get wrapped up in the heat of the moment, but watching Mando in his element, full of gusto and brawn…It’s quite a shock that some people choose to fight a Mandalorian rather than save themselves the trouble and simply surrender.

Sounds of beskar clashing with lightsabers ricochet through the air. Cries from both women pierce your ears. You want to see Ahsoka fight, curious to see how a Jedi battles with a formidable opponent, but you’re too transfixed on Mando right now to tear your eyes away even if for a moment.

“Who do you think’s gonna win?”

Mando doesn’t answer, just stays ever still, his cape flapping in the wind behind him. Lang takes a tentative step forward, and then another, and then another. “Could be your side…” He taunts. “Could be my side.”

He’s getting too close for comfort; you think to yourself. Stepping out from behind one of the homes, you make sure Lang sees you. Squaring your shoulders, you walk over to Mando cautiously, keeping eye contact with Lang the entire time. Once you’re by his side, your arms rest by your thighs, one hand gripping on your blaster.

“Ah, there you are. I was beginning to think that you were left behind… or dead,” The last word drips from his tongue like venom.

Clamping down hard on your jaw to keep yourself from snapping back, your free hand balls into a fist, white knuckling so aggressively, you’re digging half-moons into your skin.

He takes one more step forward.

“I got no quarrel with you two.”

Another step.

“That’s far enough,” Mando warns, his hand coming up to stop Lang in his tracks.

The Magistrate’s cries blend in with Ahsoka’s. The silence between resonances of weapons colliding become more and more frequent. The fight must be nearing its end.

“You know, we’re a lot more alike than you think.”

What in the kriffing hell is this man talking about? To think that you or Mando could ever be similar to someone like Langmakes you scoff, an empty laugh expelling from the back of your throat.

“All of us, willing to lay out lives for the right cause.” He says orotundly then pauses for a moment, listening to the two women fighting on the other side of the rampart. “Which this is not.”

He can’t honestly think either of you believe him, right?

All of a sudden, you hear the beskar staff hit the ground, bouncing a few times before everything becomes jarringly quiet. Tilting your head slowly in Mando’s direction, his visor keeps to Lang.

“Looks like you guys win.”

Holding out his gun in front of him, he shows you the weapon and ever so slowly places it down on the ground, motioning his surrender. Mando’s hand flexes over the blaster, gauging Lang’s next move. Without skipping a beat, Lang’s hand flies to a blaster at the back of his waist, but before he can even take it out of its holster, Mando’s own gun flies into his hand and shoots him down.

“Did you have your safety on before you shot him down?” You ask sarcastically, darting an eyebrow at him as holsters his weapon.

“Is that really important right now?” He repeats, using that same mocking tone that drives you fucking crazy.

Eyebrows pulling together in a frown and rolling your eyes, you reply, “I hate you,” while also trying to hide the dumbass smile that’s sneaking up on your lips.

The elderly gentlemen, who has apparently been watching you this entire time, emerges from his home. One by one, the villagers come out, stunned that they’re finally free. They cheer and holler, walking over to you both to give their thanks. Seeing the instant smiles on their faces fills you with warmth and pride. All the pain, all the cruelty they were forced to endure is gone. They can live the rest of their lives free of tyranny.

“WATCH OUT!” Someone cries. In a nanosecond, panic sets in, whipping your head in every direction trying to find the threat. Looking at the roofs, there’s the faint silhouette of a battle droid, crawling on one of the homes, its gun aimed right at Mando.

“Mando!” You shout. The droid’s weapon then switches to you, a red beam of light flies from his gun, hitting you right in the shoulder. The force of the hit sends your body flying backwards, landing hard on your back, head smacking the ground hard enough to make you dizzy.

The pain in your shoulder is fucking intense, the smell of sizzling clothes and burnt skin quite literally burning into your nostrils. Hand flying to your shoulder and pressing down on the wound to ease the bleeding and hopefully the pain, you realize your shoulder has been taking quite the hit lately. First the bruise, now a fucking gash.

Mando rushes to your side, holding the back of your head with one hand as he eases you to sit upright.

“Are you okay?” Baritone pulling rough through the helmet, panic sits at the back of his throat. The hand cradling the back of your head travels down to your lower back, the other reaching for your hand that’s keeping pressure on the place where the droid hit you.

Unable to answer, you groan low in your throat and gesture that you’ll be fine with a simple nod of the head. When you finally look over to Mando through hooded lids, the corners of your lips curl upwards in an attempt to prove to him that you’re fine. Folding your legs at the knees and using his forearm to pull you to your feet, he helps you stand up, keeping his hand on the small of your back the entire time.

“Kriff, that hurt.” You groan through jagged breaths. When your hand finally moves away from the injury on your shoulder, you peek down to see just how badly you were hit.

Thankfully, it’s actually not that bad. There is a gash where the blast connected with skin, but the bleeding has stopped significantly, although your tunic and hand are drenched with blood. You could probably cauterize it right away to close up the wound and then put some bacta on it once you get back to the Crest.

Mando’s still holding you. It’s like he’s too scared to let you go, like he needs to protect you and the only way he can think of doing it is to keep holding you. In any other moment, you’d be absolutely loving this, but right now? His body heat mixed with the fervor and throbbing from the gash near your clavicle is making you burn up. It’s when you finally take a step forward that his arm falls back to his side, fist balling up like he’s fighting the urge to keep you in his reach.

“The droid dead?” You manage to say through winces of pain, hunching over.

“Yeah.” He says breathlessly.

“Okay, good.”

As more and more villagers approach you both, they continue to give you their appreciation and continuously asking if there’s anything they can do to thank you. An elderly woman even retreats back to her home and comes out just a few minutes later with a medpac for your gash. Initially, you reject her kind offer, insisting that you can wait till you’re back on the ship for your wound to be taken care of, but after she continue to argue that you should accept a bit of help, you take it graciously. They seat you down on one of the cobblestoned steps, and begin wiping away at the dried blood, trying to be mindful not to touch the actual wound.

“We can’t thank you enough,” She says kindly.

“You’re—ah shit—” You try to thank her, but despite her best efforts, you’re still in quite a tremendous amount of pain. “Sorry. It’s our pleasure, really.”  

Once she’s done cleaning up the blood, you look down at your shoulder to see that the wound isn’t even as big as you initially thought. The blood splattered around your shoulder had made it seem much worse than it actually was. It’s barely the size of a Calamari Flan coin. It’ll definitely scar, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.

“Your husband doesn’t ever take his helmet off?” She asks, trying to keep you distracted as she begins to spray bacta on it.

Completely taken aback by the word ‘husband’, you blurt out a laugh. “Husband? Oh no, he’s not my husband. We’re just…” Your voice trails off because in truth, you have no idea what your relationship to Mando is anymore. It doesn’t seem appropriate to say that you two are friends because your relationship has certainly developed passed that, but to go so far as to say you’re…together doesn’t really seem to fit your situation either.

“Oh, my apologies.” Shaking her head like she’s embarrassed by assuming the nature of your relationship, you place a hand over hers and smile.

“It’s okay. No need to apologize.”

“I just assumed that because of the way he was so concerned for your health after getting shot by that droid…”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you mull over how Mando held onto you for a lot longer than he needed to when you finally got to your feet. How he stood so close to you, even when you assured him you were okay. How he still looks over to you every couple of minutes while he talks to Ahsoka, like he needs to watch over you.

You watch as Ahsoka hands the staff over to Mando, who seems to hesitate to accept it at first, but is eventually persuaded to take it. He takes a moment to speak into his commlink, your wrist comes alive to the sound of his voice.

“I’ll be back in a moment. Will you be okay here, alone?”

You can’t help the smile that forms on your lips, and you attempt to hide it by biting down on your lip. Bringing your wrist up to your lips, you press on the talking button on the comm, “Yes, I’ll be fine, Mando.”

As Mando disappears into the forest, Ahsoka makes her way over to you, just as the elder is finished addressing your wound. She’s put a bacta patch on your laceration now, its cooling sensation untensing your muscles and relaxing you almost instantly.

“Thank you.”

She grabs your hand with both of hers, giving you a gentle squeeze before letting you go, and hobbling back over to her home.

The city is full of life now, residents cheering and conversating. The children are running around, laughing and shouting with joy, even kicking a ball around the main cobblestoned road. It’s such a stark contrast from the city you and Mando had entered just two days ago.

Pushing yourself up to your feet, you pat the dust and dirt off your pants and face Ahsoka.

“How the shoulder?” She asks.

“I’ll be fine. It was barely a scratch.” You joke. She laughs in response. The first moment of genuine happiness you’ve seen on her face since you two met.

You both begin to take a leisure stroll through the village, noting how different the villagers seem now the Magistrate is gone. It’s such a fulfilling moment for you. For most of your life, you’ve behaved selfishly, usually only caring about yourself and doing whatever was in ever was in your own self-interest, and now you’ve just helped hundreds of people. You don’t want to put yourself on a pedestal, but if you’re being entirely transparent, you’re pretty proud of the change that’s happening to you. This? You could get used to this.

“If I did want to train…”

Ahsoka turns her head to face you once you address her. “Yes?”

“Like…How would I go about doing that?”

She stops walking, looking down at the ground. “You need to learn to control your emotions before you can even think of training. You’re pretty reckless.” Her voice stays kind, but she’s very much warning you of the difficult road ahead if you choose to go down this path. “I worry that your own attachment to the Mandalorian will be your undoing.”

You could argue with her, you could say that there is no such attachment, but if you were to be completely honest with yourself, you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t something there. It’s almost unbelievable to come to terms with the fact that you’ve developed some kind of connection with him, especially when you used to pride yourself on the idea that you had transformed into the type of person that did not become invested in someone else but Mando is different. He’s unlike anyone you’ve ever met.

He’s full of mystery. An enigma that you could learn about every day for the rest of your life and never even scratch the surface. Mando can be cold and callous in one moment, then tender and kind in the next. It quite literally makes your head spin. He can be so distant, and then all of a sudden, he can’t bear to be away from you. The inability to know what he’s thinking or what he wants just reels you in even more. You want to know everything about him, to feel like you’re a part of him, that you’re more than just someone passing through his life.

“Surely, the two can coexist?”

Ahsoka doesn’t respond right away. Her eyes leave you to look up at the sky, as if searching the clouds for help. “Asking that question just proves that you aren’t ready to train. Attachments clouds the ability to see reason. If you let your attachments control you, you can never act solely based on the good for all. You’ll always put your loved ones first, and that’s something the Jedi do not do.”  

Your lips press into a thin line.

“If you want this, you have to realize what you’ll be giving up. What you’ll end up denying yourself later on.” Her voice is almost a whisper. “There will come a time when you’ll need to make a choice. To embrace the way of the Jedi, or walk away forever.”

“It’s just…” You begin shifting, pacing around as the words come to you. “Ahsoka, the darkness I feel inside me? It scares me, like I’m never actually in control of it.”

“The Dark Side is powerful. It’s something you’ll fight your entire life as a Jedi, but it’ll become easier to deal with as the training progresses.”

“When I held your lightsaber…” Voice trailing off, you let out a small chuckle. Her lips curl into a smile, she knows the feeling all too well.

“I know.”

As you both stand at the gates of the village, the newly appointed Magistrate—the old man that aided Mando in rescuing the hostages, approaches you both, smiling from ear to ear.

“Thank you again for saving the village.” His eyes are kind, the wrinkles on his forehead giving you an insight as to the many years of injustices and struggles he’s had to face, as well as the hope he’s held that his people would one day be free once again.

Dipping your head downward, he grabs your hand in his, shaking it twice before turning to Ahsoka. “The New Republic will be here soon for Ms. Elsbeth. If there’s anything else you’d like to question her about, now would be the time.”

“Mando should be here by now…” You remark, noticing that it’s been too long since he left.

Ahsoka nods in agreement. “Go. I’ll catch up with you.” She doesn’t wait for your response before following the Magistrate back into the city walls.

During the walk back to the Crest, you continue to go over everything Ahsoka’s told you over the last two days, weighting out your options. You’re not like Mando. You’re not a Mandalorian, nor are you a bounty hunter, so naturally you couldn’t expect to stick with Mando once you get all of this figured out. Going back to spice seems irresponsible, given that you know you were destined for something better. Moreover, now that you know why you’re different, it would see inappropriate to ignore that side of you and continue to live a life where your powers were wasted. Maybe this is something you could discuss with Mando. Maybe he’ll offer a different view that you hadn’t thought of before.

When you catch sight of the Crest, you suddenly feel a bit nervous, almost shy. You can hear the pounding of your heart in your ears as you near the ship, and clutch your chest with your hands when you see what’s happening inside the ship.

Mando’s sitting by his cot, one leg resting on the edge of the bed, Grogu seated on his thigh, and speaking gently to him. Even if you tried not to get sentimental about it, you’d never get tired of seeing how endearing Mando is with the Child. Every moment is more precious than the last, warming your heart and making you fall for the Mandalorian even more. You know he doesn’t need it, but you want to protect them both—to keep them both safe from anyone who would ever try to harm them, and on some level, you think Mando would do the same.

“Hey,” You announce as you get closer to the edge of the ramp, making your presence known so that he hopefully doesn’t think you spent the last minute gawking at them during their little intimate moment.

As you approach them, Mando rises to his feet and walks over to you, holding Grogu with both arms. “How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Much better. The bacta really helped,” You answer, keeping your voice low as to not wake him. Grogu’s eyes flutter open, head tilting to the side when he sees you.

“Hi, little guy.” Your index finger gently boops him on the nose, causing him to giggle in Mando’s arms. Although you don’t know for sure, you have an inclination that Mando’s watching you, and when you look up away from Grogu, sure enough the eye slit in his helmet is pointed at you.

“You’re like a father to him.”

Your turn your body around and see Ahsoka standing at the end of the ship, arms crossed against her chest. Mando heads down the ramp first, and you follow closely behind him.

“I cannot train him.” She says, a bit of disappointment hidden in her voice.

“We had a deal, and we held up our end.”

Letting out a deep breath, Ahsoka takes a step towards Mando and takes Grogu’s little hand in hers, rubbing her thumb across his tiny claws.

“There is one possibility.”

“We’re all ears,” You reply.

“Have you heard of the planet Tython?”

“No.” Mando answers dryly.

“It has a strong connection to the Force. There you will find the ancient ruins of a Temple atop one of the mountains. Place Grogu on the seeing stone and wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“For Grogu to choose his path. If he reaches out through the Force, there is a chance that a Jedi might sense him and come searching for him.” She looks down at the ground for a moment, before pulling her eyes away from the dirt to look at you. “Then again, there aren’t many Jedi left.”

“Thank you.” He answers sincerely, then turns on his heel and heads back into the Crest.

You take a step towards Ahsoka and wrap your arms around her, giving her a gentle squeeze before pulling again. “I hope our paths cross again.”

“This will not only be a test for Grogu, but for you as well. You will need to make a choice.”

“I know…”

Her head dips down, offering you a farewell smile. “May the Force be with you.”

Heading back into the ship and closing the ramp, you hear the Crest’s thrusters come to life, finally feeling like you now have a purpose.

--

“Do we have enough fuel to make to it to Tython?”

“We’ll have enough to get there, but not enough to leave. We’ll have to make a stop beforehand to refuel.”

Mando punches in some coordinates and activates the hyperdrive. You look out through the transparisteel and watch the stars change from small specks in space to giant rays of light as you beam passed them, and then cockpit is surrounded by waves of baby blues similar to the waters on Naboo.

“Hey, where are we headed?” You ask once Mando rises from the pilot’s chair.

“You ever been to Coruscant?”

Fuck. “There’s nowhere else we can go?”

He walks over to where you’re still seated. At this angle, your eyeline is pointing right at…that. Trying to look anywhere but there, you opt to tilt your head at high as it can go so you can look at Mando in the ‘T’ of his visor. Maker, don’t you dare even peak down there.

“Is there a problem with going there?” He asks in jest, head tilting ever so slowly to the side. When you don’t immediately answer, he takes an excruciatingly slow step forward. He’s now almost touching your knees with his, making it even more difficult not to look down and catch sight of his—kriff, pull yourself together!

“No—” You squeak, your voice embarrassingly high. “I mean,” Clearing your throat in an effort for it to go back down to its normal octave. “No, that’s fine.”

Mando hums smugly in his helmet before disappearing through the cockpit door and descending down the ladder.

Uh… what the hell was that about? Was Mando acting…coy? No, surely you were misreading things. He’s not like that. He doesn’t joke around or act smug…right?

Sleep.

You should get some sleep.

Shifting around in your unbearably uncomfortable chair until you’re in a somewhat comfortable position—which is just you sitting upright in the chair with your leg crossed over the other, you fold your arms across your lap and close your eyes, hoping it won’t take long for you to fall asleep.

You can hear a light scuffle in the hull, and you try to ignore it, but now that you’re aware of the sound, it’s impossible for you to ignore it and try to get some sleep. All you can focus on is trying to ignore the sound which just makes the noise that much louder. Letting out a groan in annoyance, you move around even more in your seat hoping you’ll be able to find some kind of position that’s more comfortable, but to no avail.

Not only is the noise annoy the hell out of you, but you’re completely hung up on your interaction with Mando just a few moments ago. He usually doesn’t get that close to you unless he thinks you’ve been injured, but there he was, willingly getting closer and closer. Actually, it seemed like he was enjoying watching you squirm and get frazzled by how close he was to you.

Just when the sound stops, you hear heavy boots hit the metal rungs of the ladder. Great, he’s coming back.

You sense Mando reach the top of the ladder before you see him. Although, he doesn’t directly step into the cockpit. After a couple seconds of still not seeing him, you look over your shoulder to see where he might be, but you end up craning your neck to an uncomfortable amount and still no sight of him.

Fuck it. You jump to your feet and face the door to the cockpit, and see him standing like a goddamn statue. He’s still in full armour, but you definitely notice something different about him. His fists are balled up together at his sides, black eye slit pointed directly at you, and by the way his shoulders rise and fall, his breathing is uneven. As your eyes travel downwards from his helmet down to his feet, you can’t help but notice the bulge in his pants. Shit.

Your mouth instantly goes dry, your own heartrate picking up slowly, heating pooling in your belly. This isn’t the first time you’ve both been in this exact situation. It happened before on Sorgan, but somehow this is a hundred times more intense. Maybe it’s because of the rush from today, maybe it’s because you’ve tasted him before, but whatever was on your mind right before this moment is totally gone.

Right now, you can feel the blood pounding in your ears, you can feel the fucking heat radiating off Mando, your panties sticking to you like glue because of your slick, causing your pussy to fucking throb.

You want to say something snarky, but words are something you’re not even able to come up with, you’re so fucking spellbound by him that nothing in this galaxy could pull you away. He’s got you entirely wrapped around his leather finger and he hasn’t even said a word to you.

A broken moan forms at the back of Mando’s throat, coming out rough and distorted. It reminds you of his sobs the night his cock was wrapped around your lips. You want to run to him, feel his big arms pull you closer to him, but you need to know he wants this as badly as you do, so you wait. You wait for him to speak, to make the first move.

“I—” His voice is barely above a whisper, like he’s struggling to find the words.

“Tell me what you want, Mando.” You say breathlessly.

He takes a step towards you, and your breath catches in your throat. His own chest is heaving, his quick breaths cutting through his helmet. “Fuck.”

Realizing how hard this must be for him—admitting how he feels, you step closer to him. Now, you’re just arm’s length away. If one of you reached out, you’d touch the other and it’s becoming more difficult with every second that goes by not to jump into his arms, rip that helmet off his face and kiss every inch of his skin, but you won’t. You would never touch him in a way that would compromise his creed.

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about bending you over that control panel and fucking you until you begged me to stop?” He nearly growls. Voice so rough and low, you can’t stop the moan that escapes your lips.

Your pussy gushes in response. “Maker…”

He inches closer to you, taking his sweet, agonizing time as he continues to taunt you. “I’ve thought about it ever since I picked you up on Kijimi.”

Another inch.

“I thought about it in the alley with my hand touching your drenched, sweet cunt.”

Another inch.

“I thought about pulling you off my cock and pounding into you right against that wall.”

The heat coiling in your stomach is so fucking intense, you can feel it all over your body. Your heart is thumping against your ribcage, jaw slacked so you can breathe in quick little bursts of air. He’s standing merely inches away from you, and you want to reach out and touch him. You want him inside you, but you’re frozen, unable to move. Unable to break free from the trance he’s put you in. All you can do is stand there helplessly as he continues to torture you with his confessions.

“But I was able to control myself.” He grits out, head tilting ever so slowly to the side.

“Mmm…” Is all you can say. Your mind is on fire, your body’s on fire. Everything’s fucking on fire.

“I don’t think I can control myself anymore.”

Only one word comes to mind now. Once you say it, your relationship to the Mandalorian will never be the same. It’ll definitely make it harder to choose between Mando and following the way of the Jedi but quite frankly, right now, you really don’t give a shit. You want this. You want Mando, and nothing is going to come between you and him. “Good.”

Finally, he closes the tiny gap between your bodies and wraps a big arm around the small of your back, spinning you around and pushing you up against the door to the cockpit. You yelp at his swiftness when you feel metal hit your back, but it’s still not fast enough.

You want more.

You need more.

“Mando…” You moan helplessly.

The shakiness of his breath, kriff, you really want to drop to your knees and make him feel so good. His hands try to touch every part of you. They settle on your waist and he flips you around. Your face nearly smacks into the door but you’re able to catch yourself before your cheek makes contact, hands bracing up against the wall. He grinds his hips into yours, and you feel the outline of his cock nuzzle against your backside.

“If I’m too rough…” He begins to say, but you cut him off before he can finish his sentence. “I’m not fragile, Mando. Do what you want with me.”

“Fuck,” He punches out, fist hitting the door in front of you. “Y-you can’t say things like that to me.”

“I want you to,” You make sure to drawl out your words, to make sure he really hears you, so that he knows you want this just as badly as he does.

The sound that comes next is almost animalistic. It’s somewhere between a cry and a snarl, but it’s the sweetest, most arousing sound you’ve ever heard. It’ll be something you replay over and over in your mind.

His hands travel down to your hips, grabbing onto the waistband of your pants and yanking them down in one swift motion. A brown leather glove flies to your throat, using his thumb and index finger to press on that sweet spot right under your jawline. You sob brokenly as he continues to apply more pressure on your neck, but still gentle enough for you to know he’ll never actually hurt you.

“M-Ma-n-ndo…” You manage to choke out.

Mando hums in the back of his throat, pressing his body into you even more. His cock is rock hard in his pants, and your hands leave the wall to fumble around behind you, trying to touch him. With his free hand, he grabs hold of both your wrists and holds them in place behind you. “Let me take care you, pretty girl.” He purrs, his baritone dangerously low.

When his hand leaves your throat, you whine at the sudden lack of pressure. Cupping your jaw, he drags his thumb across your bottom lip, your tongue darts out and tastes leather. Two fingers force themselves into your mouth, and Mando growls into your ear. “Bite.”

You obey like the good girl you are, biting and tugging on the glove until it comes right off his hand. He takes it from you and tosses it on the ground, revealing his beautifully tanned skin. It’s a little embarrassing how just the sight of his hand makes your pussy pulse, but everything about Mando draws you in. His smell, his stoic demeanor, even his fucking hand.

As his naked hand travels back down your body, fingertips barely touching your tunic, it’s driving you crazy. He’s taking his sweet ass time, reveling in the fact that he has you completely spell bound against him. You can’t move, you can’t shift under him and create more friction for yourself. No, you’re going at his pace, which is making you fucking dizzy.

When his hand reaches the edge of your underwear, sending shivers down straight to your throbbing cunt, your body is basically shaking from the lack and overwhelming amount of stimulation all at once. It’s too much, yet it’s nowhere near enough. A thumb begins to trace the skin around the waistband of your underwear, tantalizing you. Your broken sobs echo through the cockpit, and then in a second, his hand pushes passed the thin material and cups your sex.

“Fuck!” You cry out.

“Look how wet you are, and I’ve barely touched you,” He whispers.

Pushing your ass out and rubbing against his cock, you feel him twitch in his pants as you continue to tease him. The hand on your cunt disappears and wraps itself around your throat again, pressing into your flesh just enough for you to stop grinding your hips. When Mando speaks next, he growls through gritted teeth. “Do that again, and I’m stopping. Do you understand?”

Your throat is dangerously dry, and all you can do is moan in response.

“No, pretty girl. I need you to use your words. Do you understand?” He says again, this time in a much gentler tone, but without relinquishing any of his control over you.

“Yes,” You whisper breathlessly.

“Good girl,” He praises, and then his hand is back on your pussy. His fingers rub between your folds, sending shockwaves through your body as he starts collecting your slick on his calloused fingertips, and then he’s rubbing tight, quick circles around your clit. You mewl helplessly into the door, forehead pressed against door with such force, it’s actually starting to hurt, but in the best way possible. You wouldn’t dare move from the spot you’re in right now, not when Mando continues his agonizingly slow assault on your bud.

“I’m going to let go of your wrists now,” He begins to instruct, his head resting on your left shoulder. “And you’re going to be a good girl and keep them there, right?”

Your orgasm begins to build in your stomach, the rhythm on your clit never faltering. “Y-y-yes,” You answer, voice hoarse and barely audible.

Letting go of your wrists, you do as you were told and keep them behind you on the small of your back. You hear him fumble with his utility belt and pants. Panting and having to manually control your breathing because air just isn’t fucking coming into your lungs fast enough, your body starts to shake from the white-hot pleasure, causing your hands to clench violently. Mando thrusts his body against you once again, almost flattening you on the door, but now you feel his free cock pressing between your ass, feeling drops of precome graze your skin.

His hand drenched in your slick, you’re on the verge of coming. Breathing picking up even more, he must sense you’re close because his rhythm gets quicker and quicker, nearly pushing you over the edge.

“I’m g-gonna c-come, Mando.”

“Already? Hmm,” He hums proudly. A gloved hand comes up to your throat, using his thumb and index to choke you again. The pressure on your throat and cunt is making your head fucking spin. It’s too much all at once, your orgasm teetering right now. This is so much more intense than anything you’ve ever experienced.

“Come for me,” He commands gently in your ear.

Head lulling back, your knees are about to give out, but he never stops. He develops a pattern now, rubbing even tighter circles on your clit and then brushing his fingers through your soaking folds, then back to your bud.

“Fuck fuck, fuck, Mando!” You cry out as your orgasm rips through you, sending waves of ecstasy through your entire body. He doesn’t stop though. As you cry out, riding out your climax, he slams his gloved hand over your mouth, muffling your cries; still continuing his pace between your thighs. Practically convulsing from the overstimulation, your knees almost completely cave in, and you almost feel your body going limp, but Mando keeps you steady.

“Such a good fucking girl.” He praises.

You don’t even have time to come down from your climax before he’s thrusting a thick finger allll the way inside of you. Flexing it in and out of your pussy and body trembling, if you don’t grab onto something, you’re sure you’ll drop to the ground. Broken sobs stifled by leather, feeling the corners of your eyes getting wet with tears, your mind is going fucking blank. Maker, the Mandalorian is going to be the death of you.

Pushing a second finger into you, your eyes wrench shut. He eases them in and out of you at a deliciously slow rate, sometimes choosing to roll his fingers inside you before pulling out. One of your hands grabs onto his vambrace, using that as a means of staying upright because you’re hanging on by a thread right now. This is the most intense feeling you’ve ever experienced. No one has ever even come close to making you feel the way Mando is, and you’ll never be able to be with anyone else after this. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, but you’re literally coming apart under him. He pushes two gloved fingers inside your mouth and orders you to bite down again. You do as your told and his hand yanks free of the glove, tossing it to the ground like he did with the other glove.

His precome continues to paint your back and backside, and you start begging and pleading.

“Please, Mando…”

“Please what?” He asks, and then he’s fucking curling his fingers inside you, hitting that sweet spot that makes you see stars. You cry out again, feeling a second orgasm bubbling to the surface.

“Please, f-fuc-c-k me. Please, Mando I need you inside me.”

“Mmmm,” He drones deep in his throat. Flexing his fingers inside you once more time before pulling out, you feel suddenly empty.

Need more.

Need more.

Using the slick he’s gathered on his hand, you look over your shoulder and can barely make out him smearing it all over his thick length. “Gonna make you feel so good, pretty girl. Gonna fill you up, and fuck that pretty cunt of yours until you can’t fucking walk.”

All you can do is mewl back, a broken sound that he barely notices.  Mando grabs hold of the waistband of your underwear and pulls them down to your knees. One hand digging into your waist, the other holding his length, he starts to rub his cock between your sopping folds, gathering even more slick. Once he seems satisfied hearing your broken sobs, he angles himself to your entrance, and pushes just the tip into you.

Kriff, you’re not even sure if you’ll be able to take all of him.

He stills for a moment, and then he’s back to pushing himself against your cunt.

Fucking unbelievable.

Mando’s teasing you, getting off on the sweet torture he’s putting you through. Every time you think he’s about to fill you up, he pulls away and continues to toy with you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, but then pulling away at the last second.

“Mando!” You whimper.

“Shhh…” He scolds, giving you gentle slap on your left buttcheek. “I want to take my time.”

He continues his gradual onslaught, and then finally, he’s lining up his cock with your pussy, and ever so slooowly eases an inch of himself in your entrance.

Maker, he’s huge. Even with just an inch inside of you, he fills you up, your walls clamping around him in an attempt to stop him from pulling away again. “Fuuck.” He drawls out through shuddered breaths. “You’re tight, pretty girl.”

You don’t answer because you can’t. Words are no longer a thing inside your mind. Just Mando.

“You’re mine.” He snarls, pushing another inch of himself inside you.

Something like a sob escapes your lips.

“No one else will ever get to touch you like this.”

Another painful inch. You can feel the veins around his girth pushing against your walls.      

“I’ll kill anyone who comes close to you, do you understand me?” Mando doesn’t wait for an answer, just continues to push himself more and more into your pulsating cunt. He must be almost fully inside you now. It burns, almost painful. It’s uncomfortable but it’s so fucking good, it feels so fucking amazing to be filled up by the Mandalorian. A delicious pain you’ll be thinking about for days.

With both hands on your hips, he seems to lose control for a second because the next thing you know, he stills for a moment, his helmet dropping to rest in between your shoulders, and then he’s grinding even more of himself into you. Kriff, how fucking big is he?

When Mando finally fucking pounds into you, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision go blank, you scream out, feeling completely stuffed to the brim. “Fuck!”

He’s so much bigger than you thought. Your walls flex around him, your pussy is on fucking fire right now, pain and pleasure mixed together to form a delicious cocktail, you’re drunk on this feeling. Mando widens his stance to steady himself, and pulls out just enough for only the tip of his head touching your walls and then slams into you so hard, your entire body flattens against the door, his cuirass digging into your back.

“Ah shit!” He swears breathlessly. Mando’s barely began fucking you, and a second orgasm is seconds away from unleashing electricity through your entire core.

“I can feel you clenching around my cock, sweet girl. Are you going to come again?” He taunts deliciously, pulling out once more and snapping back into you with such force, it blinds you momentarily. Bending your knees and using one his hands to push down on your back so you’re arched with your ass out—almost sitting back on his cock, he wraps a hand around your throat and begins pounding into you like an animal. The sound of skin slapping skin pierces through the cockpit, you can’t even make a sound. Your pussy clenches once again, climax nearing.

Two rough fingers find their way to your clit, and rub tight circles on your bud, the sounds of his length thrusting in and out of you are downright obscene.

“Be a good girl and come for me again,” He orders, voice so deliciously low in your ear. You last only a couple more seconds before a second orgasm rips right into you. White-hot pleasure tears through you, the ecstasy so intense, tears are streaming down your face at a constant rate. He doesn’t relent, just continues to plow into you over and over and over again.

“Fu-ck, you feel so fucking good. I’m g-gonna, shit, I’m gonna c-come.” He pants, his rhythm beginning to falter as he approaches his own climax. “Wh-ere should I…?”

“Inside…please.” You choke out.

“Kriff, are, a-are you sure?” He punches out, thrusting deeper into you between each word.  

“Im—implant,” Is all you can manage to say, but it seems to be enough for Mando, because he uses the remaining strength he has to pound into you a few more times before his own orgasm hits him.

“F-fuck, pretty girl.” He grits out as his cock starts pumping his seed into your worn-out, swollen cunt. He sheathes himself one more time, reaching that sweet spot inside you before ever so slowly starting to ease out of you. Being the brat you are, using all the strength you can muster—which isn’t very much right now, you fiercely clench around his cock, causing Mando to cry out in the back of his throat.

“Maker, you don’t want me to leave, do you?” He says, shuddering but ending with a soft chuckle. “Well go on then, squeeze out every bit of come out of my cock like a good fucking girl.”

And so you do. You continue to squeeze down on his length, milking every single drop of his seed until you feel it trinkle down your legs. As soon as his hands leave your body, your knees cave in and you double over, nearly falling right on the cold metal floor, but Mando manages to wrap an arm around your waist before you do, holding you upright. Lifting you off your feet, he pulls you close to his chest, hooking his arms under your legs and around your back. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck and lean your cheek against his cuirass. Beskar cools the heat on your face, and you swear you could fall asleep right now in his arms. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, nostrils filling up with the smell of sex and gunpowder, your eye flutter shut, feeling the exhaustion hit you all at once.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep yet.” Baritone low and gentle. “We need to get you cleaned up first.”

“Mmm,” You mumble in protest. “ ‘M gonna sleep here.”

“Hey,” He repeats, this time more commanding. “You’ll need to climb down the ladder, can you do that?”

Pouting and wanting to resist, but knowing Mando won’t take no for an answer, you give in. “Fine,” You answer, petulantly.

He puts you down gently, making sure that when your feet touch the ground, you’re able to stand up straight on your own. He pulls your underwear and pants back up from your knees. His come mixed with yours sticks to your underwear, and you hate to admit it, but he’s right. You definitely need to clean yourself up before falling asleep. Legs still buckling, Mando opens the cockpit doors and heads down the ladder first.

“Okay, come down.” He whispers kindly.

Kriff, your whole body is shaking. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to make it down those stairs without falling back. As you begin to descend the ladder, your grip on the rung loosens and you slip. Thankfully, Mando’s waiting at the bottom of the ladder and catches you in his arms before you could hurt yourself. Leaning on his pauldron is the only way you’re able to stand up, so you continue to lean into him as he guides you over to the fresher.

“Will you be able to clean yourself up?”

Looking up at the visor through hooded lids, you nod your head slowly. The possibility of you falling asleep in the fresher is very real, but you could try not to…

“Dank farrik…” He swears to himself. Mulling over his options with your half-asleep body leaning into him, he must realize there’s only one option available. “You’ll have to keep your eyes closed the entire time, okay?”

You look up at him sheepishly. “Okay.”

“I mean it,” He repeats. “You can’t—”

“I won’t look, Mando. You can trust me.”

A drawn-out sigh emits from the helmet, but he seems to be satisfied enough with your comment. Keeping yourself steady by holding down on his pauldrons, you watch as he carefully begins to remove your pants and underwear, gently telling you to step out of them and tossing them to the side.

“Lift your arms,”

He pulls your tunic over your head, and even though you’re absolutely wrecked and exhausted, being completely naked in front of the Mandalorian while he stands there, fully clothed and wearing his armour, you begin to feel a bit self-conscious, and try to cover up your body with your hands and arms.

“What…are you doing?” He asks, head tilting to the side.

“Feel so exposed,” You mutter.

“Now you feel exposed? Not when my cock was inside you?” He jests.

“Mmm, that was before.”

Mando sighs once again, the sound breaking apart like static through his helmet. “Get in the fresher, I’ll be there soon.”

“M’okay.”

Turning around sleepily, you head into the refresher and turn the water on. Kriff, it feels good. Standing directly under the hose, you let the water cascade down your body, closing your eyes and enjoying the warmth that tickles your skin.

“Okay, eyes closed,” Mando says, voice no longer modulated by his helmet. Maker, his voice is heavenly. Curse the helmet he wears, covering up a sound as sweet as Mando’s voice. Smooth like silk, you wish you could listen to him for hours, undistorted and naked. Keeping your promise, your eyes wrench shut, palms coming out trying to find him in the small space you’re both sharing. You feel his hands meet yours, your own feels so small in his. Calloused fingers trail up your arm, causing goosebumps to form on your skin and you purr into him.

And then, he’s gently massaging the bar of soap across your body, ridding your body of the grime and sweat from the day. It’s ridiculously intimate, and it’s actually quite surprising how gentle he’s handling you, given the fact that he kills people with those same hands, but it’s incredibly endearing. The entire time he cleans you up, your hands are resting on his broad shoulders. Suddenly, you feel him get closer to you, and you’re forced to back up, feeling the wall touch your bare back. Mando leans forward and presses his forehead against yours. You need to crane your head upwards to meet his, but it’s not uncomfortable. This is probably the first time his face has been touched by another being since…well you’re not sure when because you’ve never actually asked him when the last time he took his helmet off was, but you assume it’s been years.

“When’s the last time you took off your helmet in front of another person?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, not only because your vocal cords are shot from all the obscene noises you made before, but also because you’re scared that if you speak too loudly, he’ll dismiss your question.

“I was just a child.”

“You don’t ever want to show your face?”

The water trinkles over both your faces and bodies, hands carded together.

“This is the Way.” He answers plainly, but you sense a bit of uncertainty in the way he speaks. It’s almost like he’s lost the true reason for covering his face—that there came a time in his life where he began to question his Creed, but still feels like he has an obligation to adhere to it.

You want to see his face. There are so many questions that you wish you had the answers to.

Do the corners of his eyes wrinkle when he laughs?

Does he have any scars or dimples?

Have the many years of fighting and surviving aged his face beyond his actual age?

What color are his eyes?

You’re not sure if you’ll ever know the answers to those questions, but truthfully, it doesn’t really matter. You don’t need to know all those aspects of him because they’re simply just arbitrary details. Everything that you really need to know, you’re already aware of.

And what you know is, you’re in love with a Mandalorian.

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

i've got a secret i've been hiding under my skin

Fandom: Kamen Rider Stronger, Kamen Rider Build

Characters: Kiryuu Sento, Jo Shigeru, Banjou Ryuuga

Song: "Mr. Roboto," The Protomen (playlist here)

Sento is so absorbed in his work that he barely hears the knocking at the warehouse door—doesn’t register it at all, really, until he hears the door opening and Banjou saying, sounding puzzled, “Hello?”

“Afternoon, young man,” says a voice that Sento doesn’t recognize even slightly. “Your name wouldn’t happen to be Kiryuu, would it?”

“Oh, of course you’re looking for Sento. No, I’m Banjou Ryuuga, hi, hang on,” and then the cheery shout of, “hey, Sento, there’s an, uh—shit. What’s your—”

“Jo.”

“There’s a Mr. Jo here for you?”

Sento frowns down at the diagram he’s been notating. “Jo? Do I know anyone named Jo?” Unsurprisingly, the diagram has no answer for him. “Hang on, I’m coming.”

It takes a moment for him to complete one last notation, and then another moment to make sure his hair doesn’t look a complete mess, and then he hurries down to the front of the warehouse, where Banjou’s shifting awkwardly from foot to foot at the door. Their guest is an older man, probably closer to sixty than fifty by Sento’s estimation. He’s wearing a dark suit with a bright yellow turtleneck and, unexpectedly, heavy gauntlet-style motorcycle gloves and similarly heavy motorcycling boots.

None of this helps clear up Sento’s puzzlement, and he approaches slowly, trying not to just frown. “Afternoon, Mr. Jo, I’m Kiryuu Sento. What can I help you with?”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Kiryuu. A friend of a friend recommended that I come see you about some technical problems I’ve been having recently.”

Which raises even more questions than just the most obvious ‘how did you find me here’ ones, but these at least Sento feels comfortable asking. “Can I ask which friend? And, ah, what sort of technical problems? I hope you don’t need me to fix your motorcycle,” with a nod to the gloves and boots, “I’m good at a lot things, but I’m not an especially proficient mechanic.”

“The fellow who takes care of the Daitenku Temple, Tenkuuji Takeru, he gave me your address. And no, it’s not my motorcycle.” Mr. Jo pulls off one of his heavy gloves to reveal a hand that gleams silver in the light. “It’s this.”

Sento’s eyes widen, and he rubs his hands together in anticipation, barely even realizing that he’s doing it. “Oh. One of those friends. Absolutely I have some time to assist you, Mr. Jo, please come in.”

---

They’re set up in the lab, and Sento’s biting down the temptation to just spend the entire time examining the tracery of circuits embedded in Mr. Jo’s skin. Because there is skin, which he hadn’t expected. The modifications begin at the hollow of the throat and cover most of his torso and arms, and presumably also his lower abdomen and legs, but only his hands and an access panel on his chest are purely metal. Maintenance is difficult with the insulated gloves on, but given that the alternative is electrocution, Sento’s willing to put up with some difficulty.

“You don’t happen to have the schematics for your modifications, do you?” he says as he replaces a diode inside the access panel. “This is fascinating work. It’s a bit primitive, but it’s fascinating.”

Mr. Jo laughs. “I wish I did, but I didn’t think to collect them at the time that the work was done. They burned with the lab.”

“The work, was it…” Sento pauses, trying to find a way to phrase the question. “Was this…a voluntary procedure?” His hair is standing up just from proximity to so much electrical current, it’s a little distracting.

“For me, yes. For many others, no.” Mr. Jo gets that distant look again. “It was intended to be…disposable. We weren’t designed to last this long.”

“Well, you're not going to be breaking down any time soon if I've got anything to say about it. You were. Ah. Soldiers?”

“Yes. It was the usual plan, you know. Assemble an army of monsters and use them to take over the world, and only me and Yuriko to stop it.”

Sento frowns, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, setting a new capacitor in place. “Yuriko?”

“My partner. She received a similar procedure.”

“Do you still work together?”

“She was killed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it was a long time ago.” The corners of Mr. Jo’s mouth are tight. “She’s got some peace now, at least.”

---

It takes another hour before all the repairs are completed, and then Mr. Jo stands up and stretches, blinking. “This is extraordinary work, Mr. Kiryuu, I feel thirty years younger.”

Sento grins, pleased with himself. “Happy to help, Mr. Jo. And you can just call me Sento, everyone does.”

“If you like, Sento, thank you.” Mr. Jo’s putting his turtleneck back on, tugging it down to cover circuits and wires, adjusting the collar to conceal the silver in the hollow of his throat, pulling on the long gloves to hide his deadly hands. “And I’m Shigeru. Maybe we’ll run into each other again someday.”

“I’d like that.” They shake hands, and even through the thick insulated gloves Sento can feel the grip of metal. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, sir.”

“Likewise. Hongo’s been telling me I should come around and meet some of you young people, I’m glad I finally did.” Shigeru glances back over his shoulder to where Banjou’s puttering around in the kitchen area, probably working on one of the weird pasta dishes he’s gotten into into making lately. “Your partner seems like a good fellow, too, I’d love to talk to him more sometime. Now, what do I owe you for the repairs?”

Sento grins. “Nothing at all.”

Shigeru frowns. “You’re sure?”

“Of course. You’re a colleague, aren’t you?”

At that, Shigeru laughs, and says, “I suppose I am. Then you have my thanks, and hopefully we’ll see each other again the next time I’m in town.”

He’s whistling as he walks out the door.

[damn-stark]

Time changes

Poe Dameron x stormtrooper!reader

Requested by anon “Can I request a Poe x stormtrooper! Reader? Like, Finn convinces reader to leave the First Order shortly after he did, and Poe is smitten with her when Finn introduces them to each other? -&”

A/N- again if you guys have other Poe requests, send em!!

Warning- small angst, fluff and characters pining against one another.

——

Time is meant to be endless. But as a stormtrooper there is no promise to live another day, hour or minute.

You’re just meant to live without time (unless when it benefits them), you’re just supposed to fight mindlessly, just live like puppets. Only used and aware when they use you.

Nobody wants to live that life. You don’t want to live that life, but you’re...meant to.

Just meant to work and work, fight and—

In a matter of seconds, at the sight of someone familiar you’d thought you would never see again, you lose your train of thought and stop before him completely baffled.

“FN-2189?”

You blink and part your lips to say his number, but at the sight of two strangers next to him you blink again. Only being able to mutter in disbelief after hearing the familiar sound of a droids chirping coming from under a...trash bin? “FN-2187?!”

A smile slowly attempts to tug on your lips, but part of you is still in disbelief that you were seeing your friend.

“It’s uh Finn now actually.” He announces making you express a lighthearted scoff.

“What are you doing back? You’re supposed to be long gone, not back two days later.” You remark in a louder worried tone. “If they see you they’ll kill you.”

“They won’t see me, we—”

“We d-dont have time for this.” The older man that was with FN—with Finn interrupts.

Finn looks over his shoulder to the man and sighs. “Yeah you’re right.” Finn looks back at you and takes a step towards you. “Come with me.”

“Finn.” The girl behind him calls.

“T-talking and w-w-walking.” The man suggests.

Finn nods and grabs your shoulder to turn you around and take you with him as he continues with whatever it was he and his...friends were here for.

“What are you doing here, Finn?” You probe further, “who are they?”

“The girl is my friend Rose and the guy...well he’s Dj. A man who’s going to help us break into the room where the tracker is to stop them from tracking the resistance.”

“Oh,” you mouth, glancing down at the hidden droid. “The droid is yours?”

“A friends. The resistance fighter who I broke out.”

You hum and continue walking with him even if you are still worried about his intentions. “You better not get caught. You got out, I know you wouldn’t want to be back here.”

“I will.” Finn assures you, “but you’re coming with me. I wanted to bring you with me before, but I couldn’t, but now I can. Come with me. You can fight for the right side, have your own name and be free.”

“I—” you pause and sigh. There's nothing you would want more, but to leave, be something more than a puppet for the first order. But you have to wonder, what if they capture you and imprison you again? Get forced to be the same as you are now. Just another nameless soldier.

“What if they take me again?” You finally manage to say, blinking up to look at him.

“I won’t let that happen.” Finn assures you, “nobody will. I promise.” He offers you a small warm smile that you can’t help but mirror and feel assured. “So what do you say? Do you want to get out of here?”

Your smile pulls into a smirk and you nod. “I do.”

Finally. This was going to be your time to finally be free.

——

Okay perhaps leaving and moments after escaping the First Order didn’t go as smoothly as you’d initially thought (too much wishful thinking on your part) but you got out. You were free. No more strings.

Yet you had to wonder.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” You ask Finn once you both finally manage to find a peaceful time after the chaos.

“I’m sure,” he assures you with a kind smile, “they took me in didn’t they?”

You suck air through your teeth and feign a cringed look. “Did they though?”

Finn shoots you a pointed glare and fakes his laugh. Just as he’s about to retort a voice interrupts his thoughts. “Hey.”

Both Finn and you turn to notice a man you had seen many times before. Finn’s friend you assume, but can’t be certain of since there was no downtime for introductions when you first arrived. There wasn’t even time to take everyone in, everything was a rush after you left.

But now that you did have the time, you took a good look at the resistance fighter, noticing he was in fact very handsome and even if from the outside he looked intimidating, his eyes told a different story. They were dark and warm. There was something instantaneously captivating about him.

You can’t help but smile as you greet him. “Hello.”

His eyes drift to you and he blinks repeatedly, letting his lips tug into a half smile and uttering the same words he had said before. Only this time his voice sounded softer. “Hi.”

An amused grin grows on your lips and you surpass the need to laugh at his reaction. Something Finn notices too.

“Poe this is one of my oldest and best friends from the order,” Finn pauses for a brief moment to look at you, smiling to himself as an idea comes to his mind. “Y/N.”

Your eyebrows furrow and you tilt your head to meet his gaze. “Really?”

Finn shrugs, “take it or leave it, I’m not choosing anything else.”

You groan, “fine, I’ll take it.”

Finn rolls his eyes and turns back to his friend. “Anyways as I was saying, y/n meet Poe. The resistance fighter that helped me escape. Without him I don’t know where I’d be.”

Poe scoffs and shakes his head. “You got to give yourself some credit. If it wasn’t for your bravery in helping me break out I wouldn’t be alive.”

Finn scoffs too and just shrugs nonchalantly, noticing Poe’s gaze fall on you again and deciding to make an excuse to apparently do something else for a quick moment. Leaving Poe and you alone.

“So,” Poe breaks the silence, “what did you do when you were part of the first order? Were you a pilot? Or a foot soldier just like Finn?”

You shake your head and find yourself unable to break your gaze away from his. “No, I was a mechanic.”

“Ah, you’re in luck then, I need some help, this ship is falling apart by the second. Could you help me?”

You offer a short nod and begin to follow him to where he needs you, ending up below the floor of the ship and instantly seeing a solution for his problem.

“Lucky I got you here, another second and maybe the ship would’ve stopped in the vacuum space.” Poe tells you smugly.

You scoff and shake your head as you hook a last wire in another input. “Don’t say that or I’ll believe your lies.”

Poe chuckles. “Hey, I only compliment people when I see true amazing skill.”

You climb back up to the floor and show him a smirk, “you’re feeding my ego, it’s a dangerous thing.”

Poe shrugs with a faint smirk on his lips, choosing to change the subject shortly thereafter. “You know how to fly?”

You shake your head and sit across from him, letting your legs dangle over the open gap. “I could pull apart any ship and rebuild it without a need for a blueprint, and maybe even with my eyes closed, but I cannot for the life of me fly a ship. I’ve never had the chance.”

Poe quirks a brow at your surprising answer. “Really? I thought you would? I thought you would know how to do everything considering you’re a stormtrooper.”

You chuckle and shake your head. “That’s the stereotype, but no. I can sorta shoot a blaster, might as well have been born with the damn thing,” you explain, “and shooting is the first thing they teach you, but after that you aren’t taught much else. You get dropped into a station and you’re stuck there.” You shrug, “I’d love to learn though, I’ve always liked the concept of flying in space, feeling the adrenaline that comes with flying.”

Poe grins at looks at you with a soft gaze. Having to blink and express a sigh before he replied to you. “Flying is great and fun if you know how it enjoy it and do it properly.”

You smirk and slightly tilt your head. “Well if you know a great pilot that could teach me, please let me know. I’d love to learn.”

Poe smirks and leans his body closer to you. “I might know one or two.”

As if it had been out of instinct you lean in too, having your gaze briefly fall to his lips before you force yourself to look back at his dark eyes and respond. “Is that so?”

He nods and hums, “Mhmm, for starters,” he remarks smugly, letting his eyes fall to your lips for a brief moment. “I can teach you. I’m a great pilot. It wouldn’t cost you anything either.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and bat your eyelashes. “Really? That’s hard to believe. I mean being a great pilot and all, aren’t you busy?”

Poe shrugs and his smug smile spreads wider, “well I’m making an exception. For a pretty face and a new friend.”

You quirk a brow and again look down at his lips as you lean in again. Smirking as you see Poe cockily lick his lips when he leans in too. Leaving only a couple inches left between the both of you.

“well in that case sign me up. Just let me know when.”

“I could now.” He offers.

You stroke your chin and hum as you pretend to be in deep thought. Answering only after you pull away and stand to your feet. “I can’t right now, I’m busy. The ship needs some fixing. But how about in a more private setting? I tend to learn quicker when it’s just a one on one lesson. Crowds,” you roll out slowly, “distract me.”

Poe scoffs at your actions and chooses to stand up as well, taking a step towards you and choosing to quickly add more in the same soft and low voice. “You name the time and day and it’s a date.”

“Well that depends on you,” you shrug, “when are you free?”

“I’m free tomorrow night, how does that sound?”

You walk forward and stop to look over your shoulder to shoot him a sweet smile. “Sounds like a date.”

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [11]

Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12

➜ Words: 4.5k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

➜ Warning: Suggestive content

cr.

Life is like a box of chocolates — you never know if it’s gonna fuck you over and end up giving you the shits.   It’s in the middle of the night when he feels someone crawling into bed with him. The sheets ruffle. The covers are pulled, and he feels a weight settle onto his hips. Jungkook’s shaken awake from his slumber and through the slits of his eyes, he sees you grinning down at him, palms laid on his chest.    “Wh-What are you doing here?” Jungkook croaks with a voice thickened with sleep, completely disoriented. He tries to lift his head to look around his dark dorm room. “How’d you get in?”   You brush your hair back and lean down close to him, whispering, “Does it matter?”   Your hot breath skims against his skin and sends goosebumps all over his flesh. Suddenly, your lips lay on the juncture between his neck and shoulder and he feels your hips rocking into him.   Immediately, Jungkook lifts his hands to find purchase on your waist, halting your movements. “We shouldn’t do this.”   “Why not?” You pout and just to tease, you swivel your hips again, grinding down on him.   Your name chokes out of Jungkook. “W-We’re friends.”   “Really?” Your lashes bat, body heat warm against his. “Friends don’t do this, Kookie.”   Jungkook realizes that you’re just in a white night slip with thin straps he can easily tug down. Your underwear is gone too and he can feel the heat of your center as you shift to sit right on his crotch that’s growing harder by the second. Jungkook groans and you whine back at him.   You grab his hand, guiding it to palm your breast, and Jungkook squeezes. It feels soft like a pillow. “Friends don’t touch each other like this,” you murmur to him, rocking yourself against his clothed length. The bed creaks quietly and Jungkook can feel his pajama pants becoming damp.   “Friends don’t get this wet.” You kiss his jaw. “Friends don’t want to touch each other.”   “God, Y/N.” Jungkook doesn’t know what’s happening. But he can’t resist the temptation. He can’t control himself. It only takes one more eager jerk of your pelvis before he’s embarrassingly coming undone in his boxers like a prepubescent teen.   “Feel good, Kookie?” you coo and when he manages a husky ‘uh-huh’, your lips curl. “Then why do you fucking suck at making cakes, huh?!” Jungkook’s startled when you abruptly screech into his ear at the top of your lungs and his horror only accelerates when you stand on the mattress, looming over him and placing your foot on his crotch. “You’re a fucking joke!”   Your heel digs into his soft dick and he’s unable to pry it off, scared shitless.    “Your cakes are DRY!” The whites of your eyes bleed red, skin morphing into purple as the strands of your hair raise. The word ‘dry’ is jarringly spat with multiple demon voices in low tones overlapping your own. It echoes all along his room, surrounding and suffocating him. All of a sudden, your jaw unhinges and smoke begins to ooze out towards him. Jungkook screams and his vision is flooded in pitch black.   Jungkook jolts on his mattress. His eyes pull back. He hyperventilates, catching his breath.    The first thing he sees is the white mug you gave him on his bedside table, ‘Jungkook — World’s Best Chocolatier’, unused and kept pristine. But he rolls away and realizes his hand has been tightly squeezing a pillow, that he’s dripping of sweat and his pants are soiled, that you’re not here — that you never were.   What the fuck.   It was a wet dream, or rather, a wet nightmare.    //   It’s an understatement to say Jungkook is utterly traumatized. He wonders if his subconscious is broken, but the nightmare has stained his brain permanently and he is still horrified by morning. He couldn’t fall back to sleep and stayed in bed motionless for two hours, deeply disturbed to his very core.   He’s shocked out of his thoughts by a brush on his arm.    Jungkook whirls his head over, and there you are. Manifested into thin air. Coming from nowhere. As if you were summoned through his thoughts like the devil. He screams and stumbles back.   Your eyes are wide, brows lifted. “Jungkook?”   “Fuck! You scared me!” He presses his hand over his heart where it’s thundering against his rib cage.    “I called you three times! Did your one brain cell die? God, you’re so embarrassing.”   People are looking at him, startled from his shriek and stopped in the middle of the corridor. Jungkook swallows hard and quickly collects himself. “S-Sorry.”   “Geez, get it together, Jeon. Anyway, I was going to ask you about…”   He tries to talk to you and not stare at the petals of your lips that had softly kissed his neck in his nightmare. He tries to focus and not let his eyes stray down to the swell of your chest that was firmly pushed against his own in the nightmare. He tries to ignore that nightmare, the nightmare of you climbing underneath his warm covers, pressing yourself to him, whispering in his ear—   “Jeon—”   Jungkook screams again, the silver bowl of chocolate knocking against the counter in a deafening clang, but thankfully not spilled. Your classmates are wide-eyed like you are and the teacher spins around, afraid that someone is on fire.   “S-Sorry,” he apologizes to you and the rest of the people in the kitchen.   Everyone turns back to their stations and you frown, ducking your head in second-hand humiliation. “Dude, what’s wrong with you?”   You’re leaning too close to him, your scent is overwhelming and Jungkook’s heart is beating fast enough that it’s going up his throat. He might just have a heart attack.   He frantically shuffles back to put some distance between the two of you. “Nothing.”   “Really?” You have a doubtful expression. “Are you sick? Do you need to go to the hospital?”   “No, I’m not. I’m fine.”   “A—lright then, weirdo. I just wanted to ask you if you have any extra eggs I can borrow.”   “Borrow?” He quirks his brow. “You’re gonna give me back the eggs?”   You grin mischievously and it does something to him that is quite unsettling. “Can I take some, please?”   Jungkook swallows hard. He’s not sure why you’re batting your lashes like that, why you’re trying to act coy. It’s not cute. But he doesn’t comment, instead diverting his eyes and sliding the carton over. “Take it.”   “Thanks, Jeon.”   It’s not going to work and he knows it. Pretending and trying to ignore what’s on the forefront of his mind will only arouse more suspicion from you. It won’t be long until you think he needs to have medical attention. Which he probably does at this point. But your concern will only unknowingly throw fuel into the fire.   Jungkook knows the only way he can shake this weirdness off is by switching strategies. And the best strategy of all is time.   //   When Jungkook enters the lecture hall, he urgently claims a spot at the very back, even if he can’t see the white board and he knows it’ll be hard to hear. He ducks his head, wearing the hood of his sweater and instantaneously picks you out in the crowd.   You’re in the middle rows at the usual spot with your seat beside you saved. And as time ticks closer to the lecture, he can see you looking around, searching for him.   10:58 pm. Y/N: are you skipping class again idiot 10:58 pm. Y/N: im not giving you the notes   Jungkook sees your text but doesn’t answer.   At lunch, Jungkook books it to the dining hall and just dumps whatever is convenient onto his tray. He sits down and begins to scarf down his food.    Yoongi, who hasn’t even been able to take a bite, eyes him.    “Wow, you’re hungry today.”   Jungkook chugs his water so the food can easily slide down his gullet.   Yoongi lifts a brow at how he hasn’t answered and blatantly stares at him. “What’s your problem, Kook? Is someone chasing you?”   The dark-haired man in his campus hoodie and dark jeans checks his watch. With his cheeks full, he mutters, “Class ends in three minutes which means she’ll be here in five.”   “Who? Y/N? Did you do something to piss her off?”   It’s not exactly that. But Jungkook doesn’t respond. He’s too busy slurping up his noodles. Then swiftly, he stands with his tray and grabs the hard piece of bread in his other hand. “See you.”   There’s a permanent question mark etched onto Yoongi’s face and the tired man watches Jungkook dump his unfinished food into the bin and runs off with more vigour than he could ever have.   And like clockwork, exactly as Jungkook predicted, you come into the dining hall thirty seconds later. You pick up your food while humming and then sit yourself down across Yoongi.   “How was class?”   “Fine.” Yoongi doesn’t explain. He cuts straight to the chase. “Did something happen between you and Kook?”   “What?”   “He was just here.”   “He was?” You turn around but the mop of black hair is nowhere in sight. You shift back to Yoongi, completely befuddled. “No, nothing’s wrong. He’s just been jumpy today, I don’t know what his issue is.”   “Huh.”   12:06pm. Y/N: is everything okay???   Guilt crawls up Jungkook’s throat as he leaves another text unanswered. But it’s not his fault.   You’re a witch for plaguing him with these feelings. These horrible feelings that he doesn’t even know how to begin describing. It’s like he’s horny but when he touches his dick, you’re the first person to come to mind. And it makes him stop — aware it’s too fucked up to continue.   He can’t believe that the span of a few hours and one measly nightmare has changed the entire wiring of his brain. Or maybe you’ve bewitched him, cursed him somehow, voodooed him. Frankly, Jungkook wouldn’t be surprised if you actually did that to get back at him for something he doesn’t remember doing.   You’re a witch and you would probably cackle if you knew what was going on.   2:43pm. Y/N: wanna go eat out tonight  2:43pm. Y/N: im hungryyyyyy again   2:56pm. Y/N: BITCH 2:56pm. Y/N: ARE YOU SERIOUSLY LEAVING ME ON READ   What Jungkook needs most is to turn off his phone and get away from you. Or at least, anywhere where he could potentially run into you on accident. So after class, he goes to the best place he can think of to get his mind off of things.   “Damn, you look rough, dude.” Taehyung shuts the door to his dormitory room and grins. “Did you have another wild night?”   “Uh, no, not really.”   “What are we playing? Overwatch? League? PUBG?”   “I’m good for whatever.” He plops onto Taehyung’s bean bag chair, ignoring the spilled chips on it.   Taehyung’s dorm is ten times nastier than Jungkook’s room has ever been. It’s a literal dump. You would never step into it and he knows it for a fact.   Taehyung’s pig style lifestyle is Jungkook’s ultimate refuge.   “So you gonna tell me what’s up?” Taehyung glances at Jungkook as the loading screen appears.   Jungkook musters a half-scoff, half-laugh. “There’s nothing up.”   “Okay then.”   There’s a long silence. The music plays. The screen continues loading.   Jungkook sighs and leans back, gesturing wildly. “Okay. I had this dream.”   Taehyung cocks a brow. “You had a dream?”   “Yeah, and it was really, really, really, really weird—”   “Dude.” The brunette laughs. “I get it. It was really weird. Get on with the story.”   “And now it’s fucking with my head.” He releases another sigh. “It was about Y/N.”   “Y/N?” Taehyung grins. “What? Did she shoot you point-blank? Did she knife you in a back alley and now you think this is some kind of sign for the future and you’re gonna die?”   “No—” But before he can explain himself, Taehyung’s phone dings and he pulls it out.   His boxy smile expands on his face and he momentarily shows his screen. “Well what do you know, speak of the devil, Y/N’s coming over here right now.”   “What?!”   Jungkook sputters, choking on his own spit, heart stuttering.   Taehyung smiles. “I’m giving her the lemon meringue pie recipe in exchange for her red velvet cupcake recipe. Don’t tell Yoongi though, he keeps on talking about selling it and keeping it a secret, but I personally don’t really think it’s going to work— Hey! Where are you going, dude?”   Jungkook has grabbed his bag and shoes, and is opening the latch on Taehyung’s window. Thankfully he lives on the bottom floor and it’s easy to climb out.   “Are you being serious right now?” Taehyung stands, appalled.   “Yeah.” He swings his legs over the ledge. “Don’t tell Y/N I was here.”   Both of Jungkook’s feet land on the ground and he takes off running without glancing behind him.   In the meanwhile, Taehyung blinks hard. He’s shocked and shouts out the window— “You never finished telling me about that dream!”   You’re a witch — Jungkook’s sure of it. He has no solid evidence yet but there was just no way you could appear at every single place he’s at. Always two steps behind him. One corner away.   He didn’t know it would be so hard to avoid you. You’re truly like the plague.   “Jungkook? What are you doing?”   The man is lightly jogging, but stops in his tracks. Hoseok and Aeri are hand in hand together in the middle of the path across campus. Jungkook automatically grins, thankful to see them.   What he needs most is to surround himself with people and to not be trapped inside his own head. “Hey, guys! Was just going on a run.”   “In jeans with your backpack?”   “Never a better time for exercise,” he declares and Aeri laughs. But Hoseok quirks his head to the side, unsure. “Where are you going?”   “We were just heading to the gelato place by the west building. We still haven’t tried it since it opened.”   “Great!” Jungkook joins them happily, throwing an arm over Hoseok’s shoulder. He doesn’t realize how the way he stands in the middle forces their interlaced hands to break apart.   Hoseok flashes him a dirty look that Jungkook’s subconscious chooses to ignore. “You’re coming with us?”   “Well I haven’t tried their gelato yet either and I heard their strawberry flavour was pretty good.”   “I heard it was good too!” Aeri smiles, trying to be polite. And when Jungkook isn’t looking, she sends a sheepish look to her boyfriend, mouthing to him that it’s okay.   The three of them walk together and when the sidewalk becomes too narrow for three people, Aeri falls behind. Hoseok glances at her over his shoulder, apologies swimming in his eyes.   Eventually, they get across campus and order before sitting out on a bench to enjoy their sweet desserts.   It should be lovely — the weather pleasant as the sun is going down. Aeri is holding Hoseok’s hand comfortingly as they both eat their waffle cones. But the date is interrupted with Jungkook’s loud chewing and they’re squashed with three people out on the wooden bench.   Hoseok’s thigh should be brushing against his girlfriend’s. But instead, it’s squished against Jungkook’s muscular ones.   “If we’re watching a movie after this, I heard the new Terminator was pretty decent.”   “We were planning to watch When Spring Meets Autumn,” Hoseok deadpans lifelessly, eyes blankly looking out at the distance as the man considered how this cute date turned out this way.   “A rom-com?” Jungkook blanches. “Since when did you like rom-coms?”   “I like them,” Aeri pipes up. “But I’m okay with Terminator too if that’s what you guys want.”   “The reviews are pretty stellar, so it should be good. Are you planning to grab dinner afterwards too?”   “Y-Yeah, maybe,” Aeri timidly answers   Jungkook finishes his cone and dusts his hands off. “There’s a McDonalds nearby the theater and they have a new angus burger I’ve been meaning to eat too. We should try it.”   Hoseok glares at him. Jungkook’s doe eyes overlook it.   Suddenly the phone rings, and it’s Jung Hoseok’s saving grace.   He sees the caller ID, smirks and answers, pulling it up to his ear. “Oh, hey, Y/N.”   Jungkook’s entire body freezes. His muscles become rigid.   Hoseok glances at him. “Yeah, great timing actually. He’s right here with me. We’re at the edge of campus right by the west building in front of Dog World’s Gelato. Yep. Okay. See you soon.”   Shit.    Jungkook gets up right away. “Uh—maybe we can hang out next time, guys. I should get going.”   Hoseok grabs onto the bottom hem of Jungkook’s sweater before he can book it. The male’s fist is tight enough that his knuckles turn white and he musters a stiff smile, trying not to show how much he’s enjoying his act of vengeance. “Why, Kook? You should join us! Y/N’s actually coming right now! She’s been looking for you, right?”   “Uh, t-tell her I’m busy. Just realized I have an assignment. Gotta go finish it before the deadline!” Jungkook rips his sweater back from Hoseok’s grip and runs for the hills.   Finally Hoseok and Aeri are left at peace to enjoy their outing.   “Is Jungkook avoiding Y/N?” Aeri asks curiously, watching Jungkook’s backside diminish.   “They’re playing some kind of cat and mouse game. You should see the group chat.” Hoseok chuckles. “I don’t know if Jungkook’s checked at all, but Y/N’s out for murder.”   Jungkook sprints across campus again, this time taking the route through the underground parking lot to avoid you. There’s only one person left who can save him and he trusts this person wholeheartedly. He knows they won’t betray him, that they’ll protect him until the very end. Sweet, summer child—   “Jimin!”   “Hey.” The boy grins, eyes crinkling into half-moons. He put down his pen on top of his textbook, seated at the small table in the corner of the second floor of the library. You never come here. He’d shit himself if you did. “I saved you a spot when you texted me.”   “Thanks.” Jungkook’s out of breath and falls into the seat across from him. He turns to the windows to watch the sun lower over the horizon and Jimin smiles at him, chewing on his slices of deli meat. Jungkook never understood why, but the man loves snacking on deli meat and cheese.   “Did something happen?”   Jungkook steadies his breathing. “Nothing really. What are you working on?”   “Just some theory for sugar work. Gotta prepare for that test. Do you need some water?”   “Please.” He gulps down the rest of the water bottle that Jimin hands him, quenching his dry throat.   And the brunette watches him with a grin, waiting patiently until he’s finished. Then, he asks—    “Are you sure this has nothing to do with Y/N?”   Jungkook wheezes on air. He chokes and sputters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His doe eyes are rounded like a deer in headlights. “How’d you know?”   Jimin turns to the phone beside him, swipes and then quotes, “Where is Jeon? When I get my hands on him he is going to die I swear to god.” The way Jimin reads it is very matter-of-factly, deadpanning, but Jungkook groans, already imagining your yelling.   Jimin looks at his friend again, eyes twinkling with amusement. “There’s more in the group chat, but you get it. So...what did you do?”   “I didn’t do anything!”   Thankfully, there’s no one around the library to send him a glare when he defends himself in a higher-pitched voice. But it’s a lie. It is his fault. Jungkook’s been blatantly avoiding you all day, running from you and leaving you on read. Yet, the ironic part and what killed him the most is that Jungkook was actually beginning to miss you.   It’s just harder than he expected to distance himself.    For the past few months, you’re almost always together.   “I….I had this dream last night,” Jungkook confesses, finally letting the burden off his shoulder.   Jimin raises his brows, lips falling to the side as he earnestly listens. “A dream?”   “About Y/N.” Jungkook cringes, but lets it tumble off his tongue. “Itwasawetdream.”   “Oh.”   “Yeah.” He sucks in his cheek. Jimin’s expression is blank too, registering in the confession. Jungkook’s about to burst out laughing and spit out ‘sike’ to take it back. But his close friend beats him to the punch—   “Isn’t that normal?”   “What?”   “I mean Y/N is attractive and you are too, so you’re probably attracted to each other at least on some human level. Isn’t it natural to be attracted to someone and think of them like that?”   “Yeah, but this is Y/N we’re talking about here. Y/N.”   The person who tells him about your face acne and your period flows — that tells him he sucks at icing and piping — the person who calls him a bitch when he slyly passes his used bowls in the sink while you’re washing your dishes — who tries to sing IU songs and absolutely grates his ears.   But Jimin merely shrugs. “So? Y/N’s still human. It’s not weird unless you make it weird.”   It’s easier said than done. Jungkook is being driven crazy by you.   Jimin stares at him.   “Do you like Y/N, Jungkook?”   You? No. Of course not.

‘The fuck is wrong with Jeon?’ seems to be the question of the day.    It’s pinpointed on your mind and one you have no idea what the answer could be. And the more you sit and think about it, the more you become enraged. Your blood is boiling, temples pounding, and you’ve never been one to sit aside and let things happen. So, you seek him out to get some answers.   You sneak in and pound on his door at ten at night. Hard enough that the surface rattles against the hinges. He can run from you all he wants all day but he has one place to sleep at night.   The door opens a sliver, Jungkook’s eye and big nose pokes out, horrified. “Y/N?!”   You push the surface but he holds it. There’s a struggle. “W-What’s your problem?”   Finally, you stumble in. Jungkook steps back.   His room is pitch black but the light from the hall illuminates his small space and your eyes dart to his ruffled sheets, the laptop pushed aside, the lube on his nightstand by the cup you gave him for Christmas. Immediately it clicks and your pupils dart to his crotch. You see something poking out from his gray sweatpants and he covers it with his hands, but a moment too late.   You groan. “Ugh. Are you seriously getting off, right now?”   “Fuck off, I’m...just a little sexually frustrated.”   “Is this what you’ve been doing all day?”   “No!”   “Then why did you leave me on read?!” You confront him, not leaving room for excuses. And as for receipts, you hold up your phone where tens of messages were left unanswered today. You sigh when Jungkook says nothing for an excruciating thirty seconds and you soften. “Just tell me what I did wrong, so I can apologize for it and fix it.”   “No, you didn’t do anything wrong.”   “Then why did you ignore me all day and make me feel like….like some kind of clingy ex?” The words taste bitter as they come out. You’re reminded of what happened not too long ago, how you were ghosted by Kim Seokjin and you don’t appreciate Jeon Jungkook doing the same to you.   You don’t enjoy being shunned and abandoned by your best friend.   Jungkook can see the hurt in your expression and realizes he’s fucked up. Big time.   His ears perk when you sigh frustratedly.   “This morning, you act all weird and then you don’t show up to class and Yoongi tells me you shoved your lunch into your mouth and left seconds before I came. Okay. Whatever. I was going to let it go. Maybe there’s something up. Maybe you need space.” You step forward and he staggers back. “But then….but then Taehyung tells me you jumped out of a window when you heard I was coming.”   Jungkook curses his friend for betraying him inside the recesses of his head.   You’re imposing, closing the distance with one large step. Jungkook wobbles back. “And then when I call Hoseok to try to find you and see what the hell is going on, he tells me you’re over in the East building. But when I get there, apparently you’ve run off. Again.”   “So what the hell?”   You take one more step and the back of his knees hit the edge of his mattress. Jungkook falls back onto his bed into a seated position. He swallows hard, palms feeling sweaty. Your hair is falling in front of your face as you lean down, connecting your eyes with his. It’s just like it. The nightmare. If he wanted, he could reach out and hold your waist, sit you on his lap—   “I had a dream about you,” Jungkook murmurs.   Your brows furrow. “A dream about me?”   Jungkook holds your gaze, unwavering. “You stabbed me.”   It goes silent.    Then you step back, bursting into laughter. You believe the lie. But Jungkook doesn’t relax. The sound of your giggles make him stiffen more as his heart rate picks up speed like he’s about to die.   “You had a dream I stabbed you? Damn your subconscious must be really scared of me or something.”   “Hey, it felt really real, okay? You like shanked me with a kitchen knife right in my stomach. It freaked me out…”   You feel enlightened. Relieved. It makes sense in your brain as to why he was so jumpy this morning. He was probably scared enough to avoid you all day. And here you thought you did something wrong and the friendship was over.   You approach Jungkook and grab his face. Your palms squish his cheeks together and you make him look at you. “I wouldn’t ever stab you, Jungkook,” you tell him with your utmost sincerity. “Not now. Not ever. So you don’t have to worry about it. At the worst, I would step on your foot or pull your hair. Promise.”   He gently pulls your hands off him and holds it. “Thanks for the reassurance,” he says sarcastically with a small smile. “But I already know. You can’t overpower me.”   “Is that a challenge?” You quirk your head to the side.   “You just promised you wouldn’t ever stab me.” He grins boyishly. “But I’m sorry. I am. I didn’t mean to ghost you and make you feel….like I…”   “It’s okay. I get it.”   You smile at him. The corner of your mouth lifts, eyes tender, lashes fluttering. The warm light from the corridor casts upon your skin and features, making you glow.   Jungkook stares up at you and swallows hard. The feelings train runs him over, the locomotive crushing his entire body, steel wheels stomping him flat. And he knows.   Damn. He’s so fucked.

[calliecat93]

When I started TNG, the biggest curiosity I had was why Dr. Pulaski was so hated. I heard plenty about why, but at the same time I wanted to see for myself and be able to draw my own conclusions. Well now that I’ve finished S2, I think that I can safely state my opinion and the reasons why she had such a bad reception.

My general opinion is… Pulaski’s fine, but she got an bad start. She’s a very competent doctor who is devoted to her duty. She’s a bit of a smartass, but otherwise a friendly enough person. She’s a VERY much based off a certain CMO form a certain other Star Trek show that came out before this one, but we’ll get to that later. Pulaski honestly had a lot working against her and she just wasn’t able to get over them despite her actress Diana Muldaur (who played Miranda Jones in TOS) doing an excelent acting job. It ultimately ended with Pulaski being dropped all together and Crusher returning in Season 3.

While I understand the hate against Pulaski and can’t say that it’s unwarranted to an extent, I think that a lot of it that I saw was overblown. Now if people disliked the character, that’s fine. Everyone has different tastes and reasons for what they like and dislike and should be free to have and express those thoughts. But a lot of the issues with her that I had were taken care of very early on and she became much better by the end of her tenure. So why do I believe that Pulaski ultimately failed? Well I’ve come up with three explanations based off my own observations from watching the show and what I got from fandom consensus. Now this is all my opinion based on those observations and is not objective fact whatsoever, so take this with a grain of salt. So I believe the reasons that Pulaski failed are:

#1. She Is Essentially a Female Dr. McCoy… Sort Of: Pulaski was clearly heavily based on Dr. McCoy from TOS. She’s an middle-aged, somewhat world-weary doctor. She’s stubborn, grumpy, and doesn’t put up with anyone’s crap. She’s witty and always ready with a biting comment. She has the dedication to her job. She has the bantery relationship with the Science Officer, which we’ll go into that here soon. She is a doctor before she is an officer and that will always be her top priority, even at great risk to herself. She has a zero tolerance towards authority and isn’t afraid to talk back to anyone no matter how much they outrank her. She even outright has a hatred of teleporters that McCoy had. The parallels are all there. It may be why I’m a bit more lenient on her since McCoy is very much my favorite character in TOS and so far all of ST. But I think it is very much the root of the problem.

While Pulaski has several of McCoy’s traits, I think the writers really only understood McCoy on a surface level. They forget to include his compassion, his empathy, his humanism, his loyalty to the captain even when he opposes his actions, all of the things that make McCoy… well, McCoy. I don’t even know if the pacifism is there. Also McCoy had over 70 episodes of TOS and at that point five films (Undiscovered Country hadn’t been made yet). Pulaski had about 20 episodes and her relevance depended on the episode. McCoy had that as well, but he also had more material so we had FAR more time to get to know him. Pulaski didn’t get to have the time to gain that depth or care from the audience. Like… can I imagine Pulaski hypoing someone so that she can be tortured in their stead and it have the same impact that The Empath did? Can I see her counseling and assuring Picard if he’s having doubts like McCoy did for Kirk in The Ultimate Computer (okay tbf that would be Troi’s job but still)? Could I imagine any of the main cast being crushed about Pulaski dying of a terminal illness and choosing to stay on essentially a doomed spaceship with someone she just met and feel as gutted as I did in For the World is Hollow…? Honestly… given time maybe but in the end no. Now could I imagine McCoy risking getting an aging illness to possibly cure a child and others of it ala Unnatural Selection? Yes, albiet I think he’d be smart enough to bring protective equipment with him to be safe. Could I imagine McCoy telling someone like Data they’d be wrong to sit by a woman giving birth because he wasn’t human ala The Child? Hell no. Maybe he would if he was worried it would cause potential distress the one giving birth, but it sure as hell wouldn’t be because they’re an android. But I could imagine that someone who just saw McCoy as ‘grumpy doctor with a bad bedside manner who says witty lines and argues with the logical Vulcan character’ would get that interpretation. Thus why I think that Pulaski may have ended up how she did.

Now mind you I do think it IS a double standard to excuse McCoy’s dickish momemts and flaws, but demonize Pulaski for her’s. It’s like saying a man can be that way because it’s just expected of them and they can be forgiven, but a woman doing so or being assertice is wrong and they are horrible and unforgivable for having these traits or having flaws even if they correct them. That being said I do think that it’s more than that and it all comes down to the fact that TOS and TNG are two different shows with different character dynamics and ways of doing things. TOS mainly followed a Triumvirate (for the most part but that’s a different post entirely), TNG is much more of an ensemble. Pulaski didn’t have a Kirk nor a Spock to bounce off of or either let her traits shine or be kept in check like McCoy did nor did she really develop any unique relations for herself aside from maybe with Troi. We hear about her empathy and humanitarianism, but we don’t really see it on-screen like we did with McCoy. She has his surface level traits, not the deeper ones that the Triumvirate dynamic along his doctor position allowed him to showcase. In other words, Pulaski was put in a series that wasn’t designed for her while McCoy was exactly where he needed to be in order to thrive. It really speaks to how much the TNG writers didn’t really seem to get McCoy or why and how his character worked, which is strange since they got him right when he showed up in the series premiere. But maybe that was due to DeForest Kelley and him absolutely knowing the character he’d played for so long. But yeah they tried to replicate McCoy, and it just didn’t work with TNG’s already established character dynamics nor did they fully get the character that they were trying to recreate. If I want McCoy, I’ll go watch TOS or AOS. I didn’t need Pulaski for that.

#2. Data and Misconstrued Character Dynamics; This is in relation to the first reason and REALLY shows how much the writers didn’t think the dynamics through. We all know how much Spock and McCoy bantered. How they are opposite ends of the spectrum and how their perspective points helped Kirk in making his decisions. Well clealry they wanted to re-create that with Pulaski and Data. Makes sense, Pulaski represents the humanism and Data the logical. But there’s one big, BIG problem with that: Data is NOT Spock. A lot fo people have pointed this out, but here’s the thing about Spock. Despite whatever he may have said, Spock DID have emotions. He kept them suppressed due to the issues in his upbringing and that wasn’t necessarily healthy, but he did have them. And despite speaking in a calm manner, he was also an utter sass bucket, could be rude, and had no issue putting down humanity if he had a point to make. He and McCoy were very much equal in their bantering and yes maybe McCoy could go too far with his insults, but there was always an equal balance and Spock was also perfectly capable of starting/escalating their spats. There were also plenty of moments to show that in spite of it, they were still friends and cared a great deal about each other with probably the best examples of this being The Immunity Syndrome, Bread and Circuses, The Empath, and plenty of moments in others like Miri and For the World is Hollow… Those who have been following me know how much I love the Spock/McCoy dynamic and I could go all day, but the point is it’s a complex relationship that may seem like disdain on the outside, but is so much more when you examine it up close.

Data however? Data is intelligent and the Science Officer with a calm demeanor, but that’s about where the similarity between him and Spock ends. Data is an android. I do not believe that he is emotionless, he just has a different wiring that causes him to feel things differently. He’s never shown disdain towards humanity at least from what I’ve observed thus far. If anything, he actively seeks to understand it and emotions more. He actively has hobbies like Sherlock Holmes. He tries things like sneezing and growing a beard in an effort to understand more. Data is more or less a child with a child-like understanding of things and he doesn’t really understand social cues or things like humor, but he DOES have emotions and feelings. There’s too much on-screen evidence to say otherwise. He just has his own way of processing it. This is what makes Pulaski look so bad. When she calls Data a machine, says he can’t understand, and even purposefully mispronounces his name, she comes across as an outright bully. She is essentially bullying a neurodivergent child. Do I need to explain why that’s awful? Data, while by no means a doormat, isn’t the type to sass back or make any biting comments back like Spock would. There is no balance. There is no equal footing. There are not enough positive interactions outside the banter to show that there is something deeper there at the end of the day like Spock and McCoy did. Heck you can even compare how Pulaski and McCoy talk to Data via McCoy’s guest appearance in Encounter at Farpoint. He DOES make a quip about Vulcans when talking to Data and when Data points out he’s an android not a Vulcan, McCoy mumbles “Just as bad.” But immediately after he gives Data genuine heartfelt advice on treating the Enterprise with care. It’s clear that ultimately it’s McCoy being his usual grumpy self who’d be acting the same way towards anyone else and is otherwise perfectly civil and encouraging to Data. We’ve known him long enough to know this. Pulaski didn’t have that luxury, coming off as condescending towards Data at best and considering that she’s a doctor, it looks especially bad.

Now to be fair this only lasts for about four episodes. Pulaski does start catching herself by her second episode, and stops completely after Unnatural Selection when Data helps her and stays with her after she gets the aging virus. After that she’s MUCH moe civil to him, even defending his choice going against the Prime Directive in Pen Pals and was at his retirement party in The Measure of a Man. But clearly the damage had been done. Data is a very beloved character and by Oulaski’s intro had already been established and well-liked character. Data was treated equally and was valued as far more than just an android among the rest of the crew, Crusher included, so Pulaski coming in a season later and acting that way also didn’t help. The writers did not think through why Spock and McCoy worked and how to try figure out a unique dynamic for Pulaski and Data. Instead they just tried to copy TOS, and it utterly failed. It ruined Pulaski’s chances before she could even really start running. But I do believe that she could have rebounded and as I said, she DID get past it. She did relapse some at the end of the season in Peak Performance to the point I wanna say that maybe it chronologically happened earlier in the season, but even then she felt realized her screw up and apologized. It’s still an improvement from early on. But things just weren’t meant to be, which leads is to…

#3. She Only Lasted One Season/She Replaced Dr. Crusher: I believe that the biggest thing that worked against Pulaski is simple: she was cut after Season 2. Pulaski was created when Gates MacFadden left the show. I’ve seen conflicting reasons as to why, but regardless she left and a CMO was needed. IDK how popular Crusher was, but I had really enjoyed her. She was essentially the mom of the ship which added something different from TOS (wel McCoy was also the mom lets be real XD), had a son onboard which also added something new, was very much capable and devoted to her job, and was a badass when she got to use a phaser. Her being written out sucked, but that’s not necessarily a reason to hate Pulaski. But as I highlighted above, she just didn’t work. They tried to make McCoy, but without the dynamics and depth that let McCoy flourish. TNG is not TOS. Whenever TNG tried replicating TOS like with The Naked Now? It blew up in their faces. The key to a spinoff or reboot is to keep certain themes and tone alive, but to not just replicate what came before. TNG flourished when it began to find it’s own footing, and ultimately lasted four seasons longer than it’s predecessor due to it.

I genuinely believe that Pulaski COULD have developed into her own character and could have found her place the same way that McCoy did. But alas that didn’t happen. People wanted Crusher back, so they managed to get MacFadden to return and thus Crusher was put back in her rightful place. Because of it, Pulaski was just forgotten about. She didn’t get the chance to form her own character. She didn’t the chance to develop further and leave her early days behind. Why? Because she simply wasn’t given the opprotunity to do so. I can’t say it was the wrong choice, but it’s an utter shame because I do believe that Pulaski was on her way to improving. But it was too late. Her bad start with Data, her character not working in the TNG dynamic, and her replacing an already perfectly likeable character who did fit the dynamics all amounted to the character’s abrupt end. And because she didn’t get the chance to develop further and find her own path, her bad reputation has stuck to this very day.

In the end, the whole thing just feels like a waste. Pulaski had potential, but it just didn’t work in the end. I can’t say that I hate her. If anything, I feel bad for her. The writers failed her at the end of the day and by the time they tried correcting their errors, the audience had already made their judgement. It may have been for the best to just drop her and bring Crusher back, but I also hate seeing character potential just so utterly wasted. I hope that if any side material used Pulaski, they were able to find a much better direction for her. I can’t say that I love Pulaski. In a more TOS-like setting maybe she’d have worked better. But in the end I think that Pulaski was a decent character who just had too much working against her and they caused her to crash and burn. Just an unfortunate case all in all.

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dirtbags // 4: Lola

Summary: High school AU. 1985. Winter. Heather’s party is huge; Lola makes new friends, get better acquainted with some underclassmen, and turns out to be far cozier with the hostess than anyone could guess. The next day, Nikki comes to work despite his hangover, while Charlotte and Eileen plan Vince’s murder. Razzle’s just there to have fun. 

A/N: 6603 words. For @misscharlottelee and @julymotel , my beloveds, as always. Sorry it's late, it's been a hell of a week. But, here's the kids. I should say that this chapter does include slight, implied internalised homophobia, just as a warning.

judge if you want, we are all going to die. i intend to deserve it.

For the record, Lola isn’t a party-goer by nature, and the fact that she’s been to two in as many months is baffling her. Usually she just goes to see bands, and sometimes hangs out at peoples’ houses, but high school parties specifically alluded her for most of her time in Boston. It’s not that she wasn’t invited, but her mom had been something of a hardass, and the closest she’d ever gotten was when drunk kids made their way to the diner right before closing on a Friday or Saturday.

Her dad’s fully supportive of her going out and partying, which is weird in it’s own right. He writes down their home phone number on a piece of paper, in case Lola can’t remember it when she’s drunk - his words - and tells her to call whenever she needs a lift. Don’t go get into a car with strangers. Drink plenty of water. Be safe. Have fun. 

“Dad, you’re being weird,” she’d told him flatly, applying eyeliner to her waterline in the bathroom. Leo, leaning against the door with his arms crossed, was watching her with a fond expression.

“If I was a hardass and banned you from going out, you’d probably still sneak out anyways -” Lola goes to protest, which Leo finds sweet, but he holds a hand up, and she lets him continue, “not that I don’t think you respect me, but I just know what it was like being a teenager; if you got into trouble while sneaking out, you wouldn’t feel like you could call me for help,” he explained, giving pause, “but I always will, you know that, right?” And Lola nods, but goes back to applying eyeliner, knowing her father’s tone of voice too well, anticipating the fact that he was about to dive into a story of his own to help prove his point.

“When I was your age, or maybe a bit younger, fifteen or sixteen, me and some friends snuck out to a bonfire one night that my parents had absolutely forbidden me from going to, and I ended up needing to go to the emergency room from a burn I got on my hand from being an idiot around the fire,” and he raised his left hand, to show the still visible, large scar on his palm, “I was more terrified of what my father would do than of the burn itself so I didn’t try and call him or mum; I walked home from the hospital alone the next morning, and lied about how I got the burn.”

Lola paused, lowering the eyeliner pencil, meeting her father’s gaze in the mirror. Leo’s smile had turned a little sad at the memory; Lola doesn’t hear much about her grandparents, and she wonders if stories like this are the reason why.

“You’re my kid, Keola, I never want you to think you can’t come to me for help, okay?” It’s rare for Leo to use Lola’s full first name, usually reserving it for more poignant and earnest moments, so every comment about how he’s being a sap, or that she already knows, dies on Lola’s tongue. 

“Thanks, dad,” she smiles soft, and Leo smiles back, all crows feet and laugh lines, before he tells her that she looks badass, and he steps out of the doorframe, heading back downstairs to the diner. 

By the time Lola shows up, it’s just edging past eight-thirty, though the party still seems to be in its early stages. There’s music that can be heard down the street, and fairy lights scattered throughout the garden, though most of the partygoers who had already arrived are still confined to the house. Apart from a gangly, dark-haired boy whose face she knows, but whose name she doesn’t, sitting on the wide, ostentatious front steps, looking up at the stars glittering overhead. There’s a cigarette in a loose grip between two fingers, though the ash has already burnt down half of it without him tapping it off; it’s almost comical, she’s pretty sure he hasn’t even put it to his lips yet.

“You’re wasting that,” Lola points out, and the guy is jolted from his thoughts, the movement sharp enough to have the ash falling from the cigarette and to the ground by his shoes. He looks to the cigarette, which has gone out, and then to Lola, a little helpless, “I could take it off your hands,” she offers, unsure of how to proceed, and he holds the cigarette out, smile blooming on his face.

“I can’t get the hang of it; I’m playing a smoker in this play I’m doing in a month, and I’ve been trying, you know, make it feel natural, never seems to,” his mouth is curved into a bemused smile as he shrugs helplessly, watching Lola tuck the half a cigarette behind her ear. For a moment, his eyes roam his face, like he’s searching for something to recognize, and she can read it all over him when he finds it, his eyes alight with familiarity, “you work at the diner!”

Lola hates how disarming she finds his earnestness. He doesn’t mention her reputation or the rumours around her, which she’s pretty sure he would have heard since she’s eighty-percent sure he goes to her school.

“Lola,” she offers her hand, and he takes it, using it as leverage to get to his feet before he gives it a proper shake.

“Keanu,” he says, matter-of-factly, still grinning, and Lola suddenly knows where she knows him from. The school musical sign-up sheet is on the Art Faculty’s notice board right outside her art classroom, and she’s been staring at his name amongst a small list of others, including Eileen’s, much to Lola’s surprise, while she and the rest of her art class wait to get into their room.

At least she’s pretty sure it’s him; Keanu’s not exactly a common name. The only other time she’d heard it was in one of her dad’s stories, it was the name of one of his childhood friends -

She leaves it be; he groans and stretches, and there’s an idle moment where his shirt rides up, and Lola reminds herself to focus on the person who actually invited her, and to stop getting fleeting feelings for people she barely knows just because they’re pretty. Lola mutters that she needs a drink, and Keanu claps her on the shoulder and agrees, the two of them heading inside.

Heather’s house is in the same part of town as Vince’s, almost an hour’s walk from the diner, but somehow Heather’s is even nicer. Sprawling front lawn, abstract paintings and movie props on little, pristine pedestals inside, Lola feels like she’s lowering the property value just by stepping foot inside. The party was easily both the nicest and most raucous Lola had ever been to, which, granted, wasn’t saying a lot, but their house was wired with speakers, all connected back to the jukebox in the living room, and Heather’s parents had even let her hire coloured lights.

“As long as the cops aren’t called, we can do whatever we want,” was the message passed around the school from Heather herself. Lola’s feels as though that probably won’t bode well for her parents’ elegantly displayed collectables, but whatever, it’s not like it’s Lola’s problem.

Already there’s a decent crowd inside, and Lola loses Keanu amongst them, making a beeline for the kitchen, manoeuvring around the house with easy familiarity. She reaches pushes past several people to get to the fridge, reaching all the way to the back, past a set of tupperware, to the bottle of wine Heather’s mom had stashed there. Lola removes the sticky note telling everyone not to touch it, and uncorks the bottle over the sink, scowling.

It feels like she’s floating through the night, no-one around that she knows just yet, disconnected from everyone else, carrying the bottle of wine by her side, occasionally taking a drink. Moving from room to room, she takes her time people watching, and guessing how long before the various, expensive props and bric-a-brac were being used for things counter to their intended purpose. 

In the front room, there’s finally someone she recognises, kind of; the the young redhead, the fruit one- Peach! She’s unsteady on her feet, beautiful and angry, defiantly making her way through a can of cheap beer, and Lola wonders where the rest of her clique is, that sister of hers, Eileen, even Charlotte. 

“You okay?” Lola’s never been great at comforting people, but Peach is currently leaning against a wall at a forty-five degree angle after losing her balance, and scowling. She’s drunk. Already. Fuck.

“I’m fine! Freaking- fucking great!” She’s not even looking at Lola properly, glaring out the window she’d narrowly missed falling on. Lola follows her gaze. It’s just passed nine, and Tommy and Charlotte can be seen walking up to the door; they don’t see Peach or Lola, thankfully. 

“You - you’re friends with that... that mean, asshole, punk guy, right?” Peach asks, standing upright so suddenly she overbalances again, and Lola has to catch her elbow to keep her from topping. Peach slaps her hand away, but keeps her balance, obviously with a bee in her bonnet about something that Lola couldn’t even begin it fathom.

“Nikki?” Lola clarifies flatly, amused but not wanting it to show. Peach nods solemnly. Lola bites back a laugh, “yes, I’m friends with him, why?”

“Is he coming tonight?” Peach asks, tone almost forcibly coy and casual, raising her can of drink, taking large gulps as Lola says that he mentioned that he should be, and then asks why. Peach goes quiet. Lola had thought it impossible for Peach’s scowl to grow deeper, but it did, as a blush began to creep up her neck. 

“You know my sister, right? Eileen?” Peach says, instead, and Lola nods slowly, and she takes a swig of wine, “she’s a year - a single goddamn year - older than me; I’m sixteen, Lola, she said I was too young to go to a party like this.” And yeah, okay, Lola makes a face at that; she was the same age as Tommy, and he’s done objectively worse stuff in front of Eileen and Charlotte with no complaints. The last house party flashes through Lola’s mind, and she grimaces - “exactly, it’s dumb! Charlie had been dating Duff for a year by the time she was my age, and let me tell you, they were proper gross!” Peach sways a little, and Lola reminds her that she has no idea who Duff is; Peach calls him a word that shocks Lola to hear her say it, especially for a girl who had to correct herself from saying freaking to fucking just moments ago.

“Noted,” Lola nods, and takes another drink; she’s almost a third through the bottle.

“I’m not a child, Lola,” Peach says, as seriously as she can muster, and, as if light a lightbulb has gone off above Lola’s head, she realises why Peach was asking after Nikki. 

“You’re not,” Lola agrees slowly, and looks around, hoping to spot Charlotte or Tommy around, someone better suited to talking an angry, determined Peach out of something she’d regret. 

“Don’t take that tone with me,” Peach huffed, standing to her full height, which unfortunately for Lola, made her taller by a few inches, “you know what, fuck you, Lola -”

“Peach -”

“No, fuck that, I know that tone -”

“Never thought I’d see you out at a place like this, Peach,” there’s a warm familiarity in the voice that joins them, and Peach visibly relaxes. Lola turns, and sees Vince Neil, bleach blonde, decked out in his usual, obnoxious white. 

“Fuck off, Vince,” Peach mumbles, turning back to the window in an attempt to hide her sudden blush. Lola raises her eyebrows and looks to Vince, intrigued. The moment his gaze meets Lola’s, Vince turns quietly awkward, and can do little more than offer a shrug. 

“Peach?” He tries again, and Peach finishes her drink, tipping her head back, and doesn’t even seem to notice that she’s started to topple back until he catches her, “fuck, Peach.” He says, still holding her.

“You really should fuck off,” Peach says, softer this time, leaning into him, and something pained flashes across Vince’s expression for the barest moment; Peach doesn’t notice in her state, but Lola sees it. 

“Eileen been in your ear lately?” Vince asks through gritted teeth. Peach’s scowl back in full force, and she’s righting herself.

“No,” she snaps, an obvious lie, and she pushes past Lola, making her unsteady way to the kitchen, Vince obviously feeling some sort of obligation to her, following quickly in her wake. Thank God. Lola really didn’t want to take care of a girl she barely knows all night. 

She’s two thirds of the way through the bottle of wine, feeling good and buzzed, and she’s made polite conversation with the people she knows and the people she doesn’t, the people who know her by reputation, or from the diner, polite to a fault, knowing too much and too little about her all at once.

Tommy’s roped them into a conversation with a few kids from his year that Lola doesn’t recognize any of them, and one, drunk, brunette, stupid, asks her about the rumours, in a crude, roundabout way. Tommy’s hand is firm on Lola’s shoulder, apology in his eyes as he silently pleads with her to not make a scene. Lola kicks his asshole friend in the shin anyways, and spits that he has terrible taste in friends. 

Charlotte waves to her, but Lola doesn’t see it in her angry state, storming up the stairs to the second floor. It’s quieter up here, mostly. There’s a group in a side room playing spin the bottle, and people taking advantage of Heather’s parents’ bedroom, and the door to Heather’s room is closed. Lola bangs her closed fist on the nondescript door. 

“Who is it?” Heather’s voice, strained, rings out from the other side.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Lola whined through a lie, banging again. There’s scuffling on the other side, Heather hissing for whoever’s with her to go, to get out the window, anything. Lola smirks, “please, all the other bathrooms are -” and she fake gags, right as the door wrenches open to show Heather’s flustered face, hair a mess, scowling.

“What?”

“I’m lying,” Lola whispered, leaning against the doorframe, pushing down all her annoyance at Tommy and his asshole friends, and playing at being coy. Heather huffs an annoyed breath through her nose.

“I know,” she snaps, but lets Lola in anyways, and Lola automatically closes the door behind herself, leaning her back against it, watching Heather try and act casual, heading to her bed, “should I be jealous?” Lola smirks, and Heather shoots her a filthy look. Lola takes a long drink of the wine, and Heather’s expression turns from angry, to simply annoyed.

“Of course, of fucking course, you, the only asshole who actually knew about it-”

“Your mom can buy another one, it’s not like you’re not -”

“Don’t say it,” Heather warns, sitting on the edge of her bed, and Lola’s smile grows sly and amused. Heather’s gaze flicks to the door handle, “lock that.” 

“Yes, Princess,” Lola smirks, reaching over with her free hand, making quick work of locking the door.

“Do not,” Heather hisses at the pet name, and Lola pushes off the door, heading towards her, and offers her the bottle. Heather’s lips press into a thin line as the regards the drink she knows is completely illicit for a number of reasons, before taking it, and taking a drink - “fuck, how much of this have you had?”

In answer, Lola takes the bottle back and finishes it off. 

“You’re a pig and a thief,” Heather tells her, but Lola’s smile is all teeth.

“And you kicked out someone - a boy, I’m guessing - for this thieving pig,” Lola reminds her, placing the empty bottle carefully on the nightstand of her luxurious double bed. Heather turns scarlet.

“I thought you’d at least wait until eleven to find me,” she deflects, defensive at the truth in Lola’s words, to which Lola herself actually laughs, flopping back onto the bed, arms spread, two fingers hooking into the back waistband of Heather’s flirty, short skirt.

“The fact that I’m here at all is a miracle, Princess -”

“Don’t.”

“And you know you could have told me to throw up in the garden,” Lola points out. A moment of silence follows, she tugs at Heather’s waistband, and Heather follows the unspoken prompt, leaning back onto the bed.

“Boys don’t know what they’re doing,” she says, staring up at the ceiling, arms folded but feet still planted firmly on the floor, and Lola’s eyes go wide, delighted, twisting onto her side to look at Heather’s blushing face.

“I knew you liked me,” Lola teases, grinning sharp.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Heather scoffs, angling her head back to level a glare at Lola, after a beat, she reaches back, fingers nimble and cold but her grip on Lola’s jaw secure. She frowns at Lola’s lips, rubbing her thumb none too gently over the bottom lip, taking off the black lipstick painted there, staining her own thumb in the process. 

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” Heather prompts, frustrated, tone icy. Lola raises her eyebrows at the blonde's impatience.

“As you command, your highness,” Lola pushes herself up on her elbows, and off the bed, smirking in the face of Heather’s annoyance, before she scrubs at her mouth with the back of her hand, getting rid of the rest of her lipstick.

“I’ll be quick so you can get back to your boytoy,” Lola smirks up at Heather, kneeling between her knees, and in the next moment Heather’s legs clamp painfully tight around her head, bony knees pressing into her temples.

“If you tell fucking anyone I did anything other than get you water while you threw up in my bathroom, I will ruin your fucking life,” she spits, and Lola’s expression contorts into one of furious annoyance as she wrenches her head free, sitting back on her heels.

“As if I’d tell anyone; if you tell anyone, I’ll burn your fucking house down, do not test me on that,” she warns in return, before Heather relaxes and lays back, eyes back on the ceiling, waiting, “fucking pillow princess, I wish you’d get me a glass of water once in a while,” Lola muttered, leaning back in.

“Hey!” Heather objects, looking down, only to see the barely concealed fury smouldering in Lola’s eyes as she looks at Heather through her lashes. Lola orders her to shut up, presses a pointed kiss to her inner thigh, and Heather obeys without any more fuss.

All it took, in the beginning, was for Lola to confront Heather and ask why the fuck she couldn’t keep her eyes to herself during class, fully expecting a fight. It was after school, Lola had followed her into the bathroom after class as the school was emptying. Heather’s lip had curled, derisive, giving Lola a look like she was a bug beneath her shoe.

“You see something you fucking like?” Lola had snarled, ready to square up, chest puffed out, and Heather had rolled her eyes, scoffing about how Lola wasn’t even close to her type, before she’d realised what she’d said. 

Neither had known how to proceed in that moment, both terrified of how the other would react, Lola could see the sudden fear in Heather’s eyes at the admission. Very deliberately, Lola had relaxed her posture, looking Heather over with a new appreciation, and Heather had flushed under her gaze.

“I didn’t know it was like that,” Lola had smirked, gaze locking onto Heather’s. The blonde was embarrassed, furious at herself, “well if I ever become your type -” those seven words had changed everything. Immediately, Heather knew exactly what Lola had meant, that she wasn’t a threat in the way she’d feared, and that Lola was like her, in some way, in a way that was safe.

“You’re -?” Heather raised a single, perfect eyebrow at her.

“I don’t advertise it,” Lola said, voice flat, hands in her pockets and shoulders carefully relaxed, “don’t know, you know, who else is... like me.”

“Like you?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it here,” Lola had muttered, gaze flicking to the empty stalls, and Heather had given her a long, evaluative look, before stepping forward, apparently finding something she likes. 

Heather’s kind of pinning over a straight girl and none of the rest of the school has any idea she likes anything other than boys, and she’d like to keep it that way. No-one really cares about Lola the way they do about Heather, so they feel safe fooling around together at Heather’s under the guise of ‘studying’; they don’t really even like each other as people, it’s more mutually beneficial than anything else, but it’s kind of nice to have this understanding between them, free to be themselves without fear, even if it’s only for short amounts of time.

Now, at the party, when Lola goes to leave the room after all is said and done, hair checked in the mirror, lipstick reapplied neatly, Heather grabs her arm, quiet but no longer irritate in Lola’s presence, and Lola’s eyes go wide with question, but she too is silent. Heather steels herself, steps up to Lola, and then she’s got her fingers carding through Lola’s hair, and holding tight, and Lola lets herself be maneuverer, her head tipping and Heather’s lips on her neck. 

When Heather steps back, there’s the beginning of a hickey blooming on the juncture where Lola’s shoulder meets her throat, aching faintly, pleasantly, and her hands are soft on Heather’s hips, lips twitching into a smirk.

“You could have just said thank you,” Lola snorted, and Heather’s frowning, but it doesn’t seem to be specifically at Lola; she rolls her eyes. Lola presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, quick and chaste, and scrubs at the mark she leaves behind before Heather slaps her hand away and tells her to get out, though there’s no anger behind it. 

When Lola opens the door, she puts on a show of being a little more unsteady than she really was, and is surprised to see Nikki leaning against the wall a few feet away, chatting to Tommy, looking so carefully casual. Lola’s pretty sure she hears Nikki sigh something about needing to find a guitarist, but that’s the moment Tommy spots Lola. He tries to apologise for his friends, but Lola shrugs, letting the incident go easily.

And then Nikki’s eyes flick to hers, and he asks if she’s okay, and Tommy seems confused but Lola’s hit with a realization. She pulls back her act and tries not to smile too wide.

“I’m fine now, great actually, it’s sweet of you to care,” its absolutely and completely innocent, but she raises an eyebrow at him, as if asking how he knows that she was unwell. In lieu of response, Nikki stands to his full height, walks to the door, and knocks. Lola and Tommy watch, the former far more confused than the latter.

Heather opens the door wide, not a hair out of place, makeup immaculate and untouched, and tells Nikki to fuck off, swanning past him and down to the rest of her party. Nikki turns on Lola. 

“You couldn’t have thrown your guts up in a bush somewhere?” Nikki hissed, frustrated, and Lola does a great job at biting back her laughter, shaking her head and shrugging helplessly. 

“We’re you waiting out here that whole time?” Lola asks, and Nikki turns amusingly pink, stalking past her to the stairs, to which both Lola and Tommy followed, with Lola calling out a half-hearted apology, and Nikki telling her to shove it up her ass. 

gandhi said 'be the change you want to see in the world.' fuck that. be the trouble you want to see in the world.

“Don’t tell me you’re still mad about last night,” the morning after the party, or was it afternoon - midday after Heather’s party - Lola’s tying her red bandana around her head, hip leaning against the counter out the back by the fryer where Nikki was scowling at an order of fries that was bubbling away.

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, Lola,” Nikki snaps back, looking up at her, still frowning, and Lola’s smile widens, just a little. Nikki sighs, relenting, his voice dropping low, “I’m hungover as fuck, just piss off, can you?” But it doesn’t sound half as cruel as the words themselves imply, and Lola dips to press her cheek to his shoulder in a moment of affectionate familiarity before heading out to start serving customers. 

It’s almost one when Charlotte and that English kid, Razzle, walk in, with the tall, pretty ginger, Eileen, sans their usual extras, but they take their spot at their usual booth by the window, talking quietly but animatedly. 

“- the nerve on him! Hi, Lola,” Eileen’s practically vibrating with pent up, frustrated energy, greeting Lola with what Eileen probably assumed was a smile, but was still definitely a scowl.

“Everything alright here?” Lola asked, forcing her voice even brighter than she’d usually attempt, and Eileen’s gaze dropped to the menu, going quiet, brooding, while Charlotte sat up a little straighter and smiled, clearly not on such an intense wavelength as her friend.

“Everything’s just great; plotting Vince’s murder, kind of starving, the usual,” she shrugs, and Razzle, by her side, snorts a laugh.

“Good to see you survived the night, Honky Cat,” he adds in lieu of a greeting of his own, and Lola takes a moment to process all the information she’d just been exposed to.

“’course I did, I drank my weight in water between shots,” Lola smirks at Razzle, before her gaze slides to Charlotte, “and that’s very fair; I’d ask what he’s done now, but I think I’ll take care of your order first,” she grins amicably and pulls out her notepad and pen, as the three of them order their usual drinks and lunch preferences.

Lola heads back to the counter, calling out the order to the kitchen, taking another few order to their various destinations, before getting her friends’ drinks together to take them over.

“- home and didn’t even call, Razz, she didn’t even -” Eileen was still ranting by the time Lola deposits their drinks before them. Lola’s pretty sure she saw Razzle and Charlotte deliberately knocking knees beneath the table, but doesn’t think about it too hard. Nor does she dwell on the memory of seeing them at the party last night, of a gaggle of cheerleaders around talking to Razzle, though he just kept trying to talk to Charlotte. Later, she’d definitely seen them on the sofas, talking with Tommy and some of Charlotte’s other friends, leaning in to each other, Razzle’s arm around her shoulders, playing with the whispy ends of her hair. Lola hadn’t thought much of it at the time; she’d made out with Tommy at her first house party in the area, it hadn’t developed past friendship. 

It was cute, if it was anything. 

“Lola, you were there!” Eileen turned very suddenly, the moment her cup had been placed in front of her, and Lola’s eyebrows shot up, “did you see my sister last night?”

It feels like a trap, because yes, Lola definitely did, but also -

“Yes, why?” Lola asks, slowly, cocking a hip.

“They’re in the middle of a blue,” Razzle said, with a fond smile at Eileen’s carefully neutral expression, while she stirred her drink with intent.

“A fight,” Charlotte translated, “and Peach went to Heather’s last night, and got kind of shitfaced, and Vince took care of her, was really quite sweet, but she stayed with him because his place was closer and Peach refused to call Eileen.”

“She stayed with Vince?” Lola said carefully, trying not to imply she was jumping to conclusions, but Eileen’s stirring ceased in favour of vigorous drinking of the drink, obviously stuck on a similar train of thought.

“She slept on the couch,” Razzle filled in quickly, “was still there when I left, tucked in with a blanket, all above board.”

“And you didn’t know where she was -?” Lola frowns, confused.

“Vince called at three in the morning,” Eileen glowered out the window, voice low and even, “dad was mad until he was grateful; the man’s backbone is made of marshmallow fluff. She was meant to be home at one.”

“But she’s okay?”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Lola,” Eileen had said, giving Lola a look far older and longsuffering than her seventeen years. 

“If we brought in Vince’s heart, would your dad batter it up and fry it for Eileen to eat?” Charlotte asked, tone teasing and light, to which Eileen rolled her eyes, but at least it got her to smile, even a little. Even when Lola snorted a laugh and told her ‘absolutely not’.

Later, on their break, Lola and Nikki sit on the roof of the building and share a serve of chips that he’d overcooked, and a cigarette, and Lola asks about Vince. Turns out Nikki doesn’t know much; he hadn’t grown up with the rest of them, had moved to the neighbourhood near the start of high school, and all he really knows is that girls apparently think Vince’s dick developed some sort of Midas touch over Summer.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s always been stupid pretty,” Nikki shoves a chip in his mouth before leaning back on his elbows, “far as I know, but you’ve seen his car, right? That fuck-off, expensive red one that sits in the teacher’s carpark, with the massive scratch in the paint along the left? Yeah that’s his; got it for his birthday last year and he’s been getting tail like nobody’s business ever since.” And Lola tries to process all this information before he’s barrelling right on ahead with, “speaking of; if you’re gonna nail Tommy, can you do it soon and put the poor kid out of his misery?”

“Excuse me?!” Lola had choked on her lungful of smoke, turning red at the suggestion.

“Yeah, poor kid was pretty convinced we were a thing and didn’t want to make a move; kinda stupid, but I dunno, admirable? Noble?” Nikki groaned through his words, laying back against the gravel of the roof, hand out for the cigarette. Lola passed it to him, glad he couldn’t see her vaguely guilty expression, knowing she’d slept with the girl he’d been hitting on the night before.

“Tommy has a thing for anything halfway pretty that’s not related to him, he’d be just as happy to boink any other girl,” Lola points out, and Nikki snorts a laugh in mild agreement, “and the only reason we’re not fucking is because you’re afraid my dad’s gonna rip of your arms like he’s the fucking Wampa from Star Wars.” She punctuates it by eating the last chip, laying out beside Nikki on the gravel, checking her watch. Five minutes before their break ends.

“Leo wouldn’t rip off my arms- I don’t think Leo would rip off my arms!” Nikki counters defensively, but that just has Lola laughing as she corrects -

“Sorry, no, your exact wording was ‘I don’t want your dad to Kali Ma my fucking heart like I’m that little bastard from Indiana Jones’,” Lola does an absolutely atrocious impersonation of Nikki, who’s laughing despite himself, “which you only took back because I told you he wasn’t Indian, and even if he was, it’s kind of a fucked thing to say,” Lola tells him pointedly, shifting onto her side, propping her head up on her hand as she smirked at Nikki. 

When Nikki looks at her, green eyes shining in the overcast, afternoon light, there’s something unreadable, teasing and soft all at once, like he’s entertaining an idea he’d considered unthinkable.

“I don’t think I could look Leo in the eye if I banged his daughter,” Nikki’s voice is soft and low, though he’s grinning wide, tone coy, eyes creasing in the corners, and Lola’s gaze flicks to his lips. 

“For Leo’s sake, then,” Lola matches his tone, corner of her mouth twitching into a sharp smirk when she finally looks back to his eyes, “and Tommy’s too,” she teases, pushing herself into a sitting position; she can hear it when he presses his head further into the gravel in exasperation, swearing under his breath. When Lola stands and smiles, the picture of innocence, she offers Nikki her hand to help him up; Nikki rolls his eyes, but is still smiling when he accepts.

“Your hair looks dorky like that,” Lola teases as she climbs down the fire escape.

“I know,” Nikki sighs, “but its better than getting hair in everyone’s food; I’m not gonna be the reason your dad fails a health inspection,” Nikki adds, a strange hint of protectiveness in his voice that warms Lola’s heart in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

“Don’t worry, Leo’s never failed a health inspection, he doesn’t intend to start any time soon.”

love is a dream someone else had last night.

Eileen and Razzle see fit to join their ragtag bunch of misfits at lunch the following Monday by the open gate and the science carpark, which Lola had been informed was the teachers’ carpark.

Lola doesn’t care who sits with them, except for the fact that she’d taken the leftover lemon merengue tart from the diner since it was being replaced with an apple crumble, and there was only enough for four. For the past week, Eileen’s been alternating sitting with them and sitting elsewhere, but she hadn’t been here last Monday, so Lola had assumed - anyways, now she’s worried she looks like a bitch, and not for an actual reasonable reason.

“What do you mean you almost got with Heather on Friday?!” Charlotte’s voice was somewhere between a horrified and disbelieving squeak where she was picking at the crust of the piece of tart she was sharing with Eileen. The lemon merengue debacle turned out to not be much of an issue, with Charlotte and Eileen sharing, and Tommy and Lola sharing too. Lola was incredibly focused on picking at a scab through the hole in the knee of her jeans.

“I mean I had my hand in her fucking panties when someone -” Nikki cast a very pointed look to Lola, “knocked on the door threatening to throw up, and I got shoved out a window,” Nikki played up being irritated, despite the fact that he was laying out on his side directly behind Lola, while she was leaning into him.

“You’re my hero,” Eileen told Lola, serious as ever, while Charlotte cackled with delight, and Razzle snickered from where he was touching up the left hand of Tommy’s sharpie-nails.

“You guys are a bunch of assholes,” Nikki huffed, shoving the remained or his own piece of tart into his mouth.

“I brought you food, show some fuckin’ respect,” Lola smirked despite herself, gently elbowing him in the ribs; he flicks her knee in retaliation.

“Absolutely not; you’re a cockblocking traitor and the worst friend I’ve got,” Nikki announced, nose in the air, and Lola leans all her weight back suddenly, tipping Nikki onto his back and laying heavy across his stomach as she demanded he take it back, the two of them getting into a petty squabbling match, shoving at each other while the others could only look on in exasperated amusement.

“I thought Heather had a boyfriend,” Eileen pipes up, to which Charlotte makes a a gentle ‘eh’ noise in the back of her throat.

“She’s getting laid,” Charlotte corrects with half a smirk, and everyone who was paying half attention understand easily. Tommy sighs, but it’s not nearly as dejected as he’s known for whenever the topic of girls he fancies being with other people comes up.

“Whatever, I got to second base with Pam that night, and no-one can take that away from me,” Tommy announces, watching Razzle finish off his pinkie.

“Good for you, man,” Razzle says, with his trademark sincerity. Eileen and Charlotte still can’t believe it happened, but unfortunately both Razzle and Vince had seen with their own two eyes and been able to confirm; Vince may be biased, but Charlotte trusted Razzle.

“Everyone got some fuckin’ action that night except for me,” Nikki whines, finally shoving himself off, “and the fuckin’ Vomit Comet over here,” he jerked his thumb to where Lola was righting herself; Lola flips him off in response. 

“I didn’t,” Eileen points out.

“You weren’t there,” Nikki rolls his eyes, “you don’t count.” 

Meanwhile Razzle and Charlotte had both gone very quiet, and very pink. However Lola, who had no patience for people trying to hide their somewhere-between-pining-and-sincere feelings from each other and from other people, instead turns her attention to Eileen as she’s sweeping her hair out of her face.

“Have things gotten any better with Peach?” She tried, tone hopeful, and Eileen’s expression barely changed, just the barest crease of a frown upon her forehead, though judging by the way Charlotte’s whole expression soured, things had not, in fact, gotten better.

“Came back on Saturday afternoon all sunny and smiley and mom was thrilled,” Eileen’s deadpan irritation really sold her exasperation at the whole situation, “that she was friends with Vince again, and she hasn’t said a word to me yet.” Eileen takes a deep breath, straightening up from where she’d been slouched without realizing, taking a deep breath, nose in the air as if rising above it all, “which is fine with me, because I have a ton of dialogue to learn and they want us off-book in a month.” 

This only sets them off fondly teasing the ever-unflappable Eileen, for her seemingly out of character choice to join the school’s musical, though they were all very proud of the fact that she scored the lead, even Nikki had voiced that he thought it was pretty cool. 

When Lola had asked about it, Eileen had made mention that it filled in a lot of free time, that it was something she could add to college applications, and that a friend had convinced her to do it; Keanu -

“I keep hearing that name around,” Lola muses, leaning back in her seat while they were waiting for their French teacher to arrive. Eileen raises her eyebrows, “is that the pretty, dark haired Senior?” Eileen, surprisingly, had flushed scarlet when nodding. Lola hummed thoughtfully, leaning back further until the front legs of her chair lifted from the ground; she hooked her feet around the legs of her desk as she contemplated.

“It’s a musical right?” Lola asked, and Eileen hummed in confirmation, “if you can sing, you know Nikki and Tommy are -”

“I’d rather eat an entire microphone,” Eileen responds flatly, already knowing what Lola was about to suggest before she’d even finished her sentence, and Lola really tries not to laugh, but she knows Eileen well enough by now that that response makes entirely too much sense.

“You make a fair -” and that’s when Lola’s grip on the table slips, her feet sliding quickly up the legs of the desk as she topples backwards, the momentum pulling the desk up with her legs and directly on top of her, winding her. At least it made Eileen laugh, mostly from shock, sure, but Lola counts it as a win.