#which is part of why he keeps fidget at his heel

[ratign]

ratigan the kind of guy to beat you to death with his fists and then turn to fidget like " im still a gentleman tho right :) ?"

[oishiyani]

🦐 ; Where Were You?

🦐 ; y/n’s presence never missed every single day! a text, a voice call, maybe even a visit. but then one morning.. boom! y/n vanished, not a single sign of life from them has got them shuffled in their minds! who knows could be what their reaction? (SCENARIOS)

— this is a fun little drabble while i had on my free time!! huehue, i swear ill make nikolai on the pt2 of this and along with another character in mind!

Sigma

Would end up trashing in fear in his body.

sigma's love for you is known to be only pure, he loves you whole and so do you. a routine where you'd keep him occupied with everything that's happened to you while he shoots you a bunch of questions of things he hadn't heard such about. the more you talked, the more curious he got.

the way you talk has him falling head over heels for you! that's the most special event in his daily life. the part where you'd find him and call so sweetly of his name out of your lips, your voice instantly makes him forget whatever's disturbing his head- soon relaxed when he recognizes your voice.

with this everyday routine with you is like a vitamin he has to take everyday, without it he may not function well. it's the most crucial part of his life- he can't miss a day without you. then one day, he did almost did miss a day.

usually you'd be calling out for him when he's really stuffed with the casino of his. a perfect timing for you to be his savior to come and comfort him, but after a few hours- he looked at the clock that was hanged on the wall.

'that’s strange.. y/n should be here at any moment now.. y/n's coming here soon right?'

and so, he waited. and waited. and waited. like a dog waiting for their owner to return home behind closed doors.

sigma begins to fidget without him realizing, one of his legs starts fiddling as both of his hands clasped together, his right index finger tapping up and down for who knows how long. and you still weren't here.

its been hours, he noticed. he spammed your phone number with a few text messages asking where are you, were you alright? were you not safe? the thought of you in danger increased his worries. could fyodor have captured you to use you against him?

he swallowed the developed lump in his throat, he had to search for you immediately. now was the time to take action. who knows what could’ve happen to you? he stands up and grabs the telephone by his desk- before he was about to dial, the sound of his main doors pushed open.

there you were, standing with a bunch of bags hanged on your arm. "hey, sorry i kind of arrived late! as you can see here i bought-"

"s-sigma?" you were cut by your sentence as you were took by a sudden surprise of sigma who dropped the telephone and approached you with his footsteps in a haste. he then hugged you tightly- wrapped in his arms, never wanting to let go of you. his head on your shoulder while his face hides at your sight. you almost fell behind and tumbled because of the unforeseen of event.

"where were you?" he asked, a sound of his voice cracked as he spoke. you hugged him back trying your best to tolerate how really tight his hug is, "i was out in the mall.. my phone happened to run out of battery so i couldn't message you. i'm sorry about that." you let out of a bashful giggle.

soon you felt slight coldness on the fabric you wore, your eyes dilated and grabbed sigma's forearms to push him slowly from you.

with his face in front of you. sigma's eyes were bottled up with tears, his nose a bit red. which looks like he's been holding in his emotions for a while. the tables have turned- now you were the one worried, confused, why was sigma crying? did you do something wrong?

"huh? did something happen? what's wrong?" sigma looked down, a sigh escaping his lips- his eyebrows furrowed. "you were gone for too long and i just got worried.. really that's all." his eyes shifted in another direction, a small pout on his lips formed after.

you also sighed in relief after thinking that something worse happened to him, "i'm sorry for that sigma.. next time i'll invite you to the mall with me. we could try one of those fancy restaurants i saw."

he sniffled, his index finger swiped the tear bubbling from the corner of his eye. "sure, i'd love to go." he then smiled. "i'm happy you're back."

sigma then felt something pressed on to his lips. it was.. a cookie?! his eyes lit of sparks. you pushed the cookie futher and sigma took immediate bite of it, "i also bought these cookies for you! do you like them?"

a faint pink shade of blush wave on his cheeks, "mhm."

Fyodor

Would come and fetch you immediately. and once found- it’s a must to return.

your presence being absent for a while doesn’t shaken fyodor himself. why? oh y/n, you lack the knowledge of fyodor’s tracking skills- an absoulute maniac at it! he could be watching you at every placed cctv camera by the city and you’re fully unaware of it.

fyodor fonds you quite alot- well for more than what you can think. he loves how you bring gifts for him on the way back, after he just watched you struggle to buy something for him. unable to choose between two goods situation. he smiles internally at how cute you look while deciding if he'd

with your loyalty to him, he surely should protect you from any harm that opposes you. that’s why he’s spectating you from the cameras y’know! it’s all for the sake of your safety after all. he even thought of placing cameras in your house, maybe if someone attempted to rob you then he’d save the day.

as soon as fyodor came back from his office- sitting on his chair, eyes stamped on the screen that displayed different corners of each street. in an insant his eyes hunt for you like a prey.

switching from cameras to cameras, he was unable to find you through it. he double checked again- maybe you’ll appear at any moment but no. you still weren’t there at the store you always went.

‘that’s strange..’ fyodor said as he gently rubbed his chin, thinking where have you might go. he only set off his eyes away from the screen for a minute and you’re gone that quickly? that was the least he expected since you take your time at browsing your items.

little did he know you stumbled upon this local cafe that just opened up! it was located at this small apartment that the owner set it up as their own business. you happen to saw a poster and an immediate urge drove into you as soon as you saw the cafe’s new release of a drink.

with that in mind, you went on your way to try it out. you open the door that supposedly says in the poster that this is where they’re located, a small, shady place for a cafe indeed. you were met by the sound of a small bell that clang on top when you opened the door. the aroma of coffee strikes you.

there were only a few people, really few.. like 3. the man who’s behind the counter greeted you a welcome. you came upfront and told him that you wanted to try their new drink. the man agreed, but as he went on to make it- the man seems like he couldn’t find himself to stop talking about you.

he continuously asked you multiple questions about yourself, what you do for living, how was living in the city, were you still studying, ‘till he abruptly asked if you were in a relationship with someone.

the first set of questions weren’t that bad, although they progressively became more personal. the conversation still about yourself- you ended up being uncomfortable as you sat and waited for your drink to be done.

“maybe we could exchange numbers.. if you ever don’t have one though! and we could go get some coff-“

“do you serve tea around here?” the familiar voice spoke. you quickly turned to your side and saw fyodor who was about to sit down beside you. “wait- fyodor?! what’re you doing here? i mean, when did you even get here?!”

“just now.” fyodor replied, his gaze on the man who was doing the finishing touches to your drink. the man who was behind the counter was also just as confused as you for the unexpected new customer. “tea sir? i’m afraid we don’t-“

“well, that’s unfortunate. i was hoping me and y/n would go here sometime.” fyodor replied. cutting the man’s words off. “y/n?” you looked to fyodor again, giving him a sign that he has your attention. he told you to bring out your phone and to wear your headphones for some reason, he then told you to listen to this orchestra piece he liked.

“just for a moment.” he told you, mouth close to your ear, then puts back the lifted half of the headphones on your ear. you watched him talk to the man, both of them having a conversation while you listened to melody in your ears. you then continued to sip your finished drink, ‘this is good.. and refreshing..’ the wave of relaxation was disturbed by a sudden slam that vibrated on the wooden counter.

you turned your gaze back to the two, lifting your headphones. the man’s face expression showed he was terrified, while fyodor was only giving the poor man a smirk. “get out before i call the police!” the man threatened. “wait- what happened?” yet again confused, you asked fyodor. he only stood up and stared at the man who’s legs began to shake.

“let’s go y/n. we surely don’t want to be in this place of a stench.” fyodor took his steps to the door turning the doorknob. you left your payment on the counter and catched up to fyodor on the way out of the apartment.

you were filled with questions for fyodor to answer, but the only answer you ever got was quite odd-

“i only gave him a little piece of advice, i wouldn’t want that cafe to be shut down completely.”

the next day, you were walking by the side of the streets. you found yourself in the same spot where the cafe you went was located. but this time, you took notice that there was a sign that said ‘THIS PLACE HAS BEEN SHUT DOWNED’

[hydrngea]

Rafe x reader

They grew up together and as kids Rafe got reader a necklace and she still wears it to this day but Rafe doesn’t notice until she’s all dressed up for midsummer

(This is really random but I thought it was cute lol)

Ur writing is amazing btw! 🫶🏻

perfect pick

a/n : thanks sm!!! i appreciate the compliment :)) i didn’t completely answer the prompt but i might do a part 2 in a couple of days :))

notes : rafe cameron x reader, au to some extent featuring rafes mom before she disappeared.

masterlist | PART TWO

————

rafe could care less about your tenth birthday. in fact, the only reason he even knew it was coming up was because it was all you and sarah could ever talk about lately; what the theme would be, what kind of cake would be the best to eat, who should and should not be invited.

rafe cameron does not care about your birthday- which is why when his mom forced him to come along with her to pick out a present for you, all he wanted to do was jump out of the car and run away.

“but she’s not even my friend.” he whined as they entered the mall, keeping the door open for his mom to go in with wheezies stroller.

“no buts. she’s family, rafe.”

he groans, his steps heavy against the large and perfectly square porcelain tiles of tiffany’s.

“just because she’s your best friends daughter doesn’t mean i have to get her a present.”

his mom shushes him as they approach the jewelry counter, placing a hand on his shoulder before smiling at the associate.

the associate is too enthusiastic to be genuine at this time of day. rafe rolls his eyes at her sickly sweet tone while she asks what they’re looking for. he feels a nudge at his side and his face twitches with annoyance.

“a necklace.” he says under his breath, planning on choosing the first one the associate suggests.

she leads them to the left side of the store, hand gesturing to an array of really expensive necklaces for them to choose from.

“i’ll be right where you found me if you need any help with specifics.” she smiles before abandoning them.

rafe turns to look at his mom, who holds wheezie on her hip. “so?” he shrugs.

“hm?”

he shoves his hands into the pockets of his shorts, “what one do you want?”

his mother laughs, adjusting wheezie on her hip and grabbing her hand, stopping her from dirtying the display with her chubby fingers. “i don’t want any of these. which one does y/n want?”

the question makes him think for a second. he doesn’t know what you would like. he flips through his memories for some sort of indication, but really he should just point to a random piece and call it a day.

red. he thinks, he remembers you saying your favorite color is red- on multiple occasions.

it was red like ladybugs 4 years ago. then red like pretty roses. red like red pandas a couple years before. red like taylor swifts iconic lipstick now.

he shakes his head, then points to a silver chain with a little red charm in it. “that.” he shrugs and then turns on his heel, before his mom can question if its the best choice.

…

he fidgets with the black ribbon wrapped neatly on top of the gift box theyd put the necklace in, eyes tracing over the bolder lettering over and over again as they walked back to the parking lot. he avoids making eye contact with his mom, like for some reason it’d trigger her to go on another rant about how he should act gentlemanly when he gives her the present or at least act like he cares.

they make it to the car without any conversation, save for some half-coherent blabber here and there from wheezie. he slips into the passenger seat while his mom buckles in wheeze into her carseat, the box still in his hands.

halfway through the car ride, the silence between them is broken. “i know you don’t like to talk about your feelings rafe, but you don’t do a great job at hiding your facial expressions.”

“mom,” he groans, leaning the back of his head deep into the leather seat of her escalade.

“i can tell you have a soft spot for her.” she continues, pressing on the brakes as they approach a red light.

“i don’t.” rafe grumbles, fingernail digging into the box and leaving a mark.

“deny all you want, but i saw the way you looked thinking about her. it’ll catch up to you one day.”

he finally brings his gaze to her, his blue eyes meeting her mirroring irises with a glint of curiosity over what her words mean. he makes to open his mouth, to ask what she means by the look. to ask what’s going to catch up to him. but then reminds himself it doesn’t matter and stops himself.

he doesn’t have anything to catch up to him, because he doesn’t have any sort of feelings for y/n.

there’s no way he feels something towards you- could he?

he shakes his head, putting the box to his side and out of his lap and flickering his eyes to his window. why is he letting his mom get into his head?

he doesn’t care about you. doesn’t care about hee stupid birthday, or even care much about the stupid present he chose for you.

—————-

your tenth birthday party is excatly how you wanted it to be. it’s perfectly decorated, with red streamers hung all over the downstairs of your house and taylor swift themed snacks and games. you were having the time of your life, drunk off shirley temples in fancy alcholol flutes.

you notice a stain on your birthday sash and you pout. quickly excusing yourself to drop off the sash in your room, you rush out of your back patio and into the house, making your way towards the stairs when you bump into someone’s solid chest.

here’s one thing to note; regardless of what everyone says, you do not like rafe cameron. “oh, rafe.” you say, taking a small step back-you can feel your cheeks burn under his gaze.

okay fine, the previous statement was a lie. but not completely, it was only a small crush. tiny. as big as the sprinkles on your birthday cake.

“here.” he shoves a small gift bag into your hands and then hastily walks away before you can ask what it is.

the interaction leaves you somewhat disoriented but also flustered, skin pink and pulse fast.

on your past birthdays, you always get one present from sarah and one from her parents. and that’s what you think it is, a present from sarah’s family.

you bring the bag up with you into you room and pull the sash off your body, throwing it into a random corner of your room.

you know it’s bad etiquette to open presents before it’s time, but for some reason you’re too drawn to the gift bag to wait. you peak your head out your bedroom door and find that the coast is clear, and open the bag, pulling out a small teal box with a black ribbon wrapped around it. you shake it close to your ear, guessing it’s some sort of jewelry and grin to yourself when you realize you’re right

you open the box and find the most perfect necklace ever. it’s silver, with a small red heart attached to its chain with your initial engraved onto it.

you’ll have to thank mrs and mr cameron for the gift. it might be even better than the one sarah got you.

you hear your mom call for you from the bottom of the stairs and you quickly shove the box into the top drawer of your dresser, leaving the bag on top of your bed before hurrying back downstairs to rejoin the party.

——-

you’re confused when mrs cameron hands you another gift bag when it’s time to open presents.

“another one?” you ask with your brow furrowed, though you aren’t complaining.

“from me, ward and wheeze.” she hands it to you with a warm smile and a quick wink.

that’s when it clicks that the present wasn’t from who you thought it.

you slip away from the party and rush back up to your room, grabbing the original bag and digging inside for a card or an indication form who it could be from.

there’s a note stuck to the bottom of the bag, made of ripped loose leaf and written with a dull pencil.

“happy birthday” it says, with no signature. but you don’t need one to know who it’s from.

suddenly, your heart starts hammering and your face starts to swell with a smile.

you can’t believe it- rafes the one who got you the necklace, and somehow he managed to make it perfect.

—-

authors note part 2 : i want to say this is extremely UNEDITED so i apologize for any errors and incoherences etc ! there’s a 90% chance i’m gonna take this down and repost this with edits lol.

taglist : @mrsstarkey1 @maybankslover @of-many-fandomss @dearreader03 @penny4yourthoughts @willowpains

PART 2

[muzzlemouths]

Part 1 of a oneshot based on @juicyyyboxxx's Valentine's Day art because it's lived in my head for months. so if this breaks your heart you have them to blame 💕

WC: 1400

The rejection is familiar. It bites like teeth on flesh, a deep and aching bruise, unseen, it offers no catharsis without the bitter taste of crimson beneath. Circuits sting and spark under plates of cold metal and a heart that tick tick ticks to a pre-programmed pulse. Alive by electric veins, each breath is painfully artificial. That's why they always leave, isn't it?

How silly it is to think this time might be different. Yes, silly, that’s what they always tell him. What a silly robot, with silly little feelings he himself doesn’t understand and a silly heart that goes 01100010 01100101 01100001 01110100 (beat) 01100010 01100101 01100001 01110100 (beat) 01100010 01100101 01100001 01110100 (beat).

He is exhausted by its rhythm. Disheartened each time a scraped knee leaks oil and not blood. It didn’t use to be this way, of course. This dysphoria of sorts is recent — a development which stems from not one rejection, not two, but a number that can’t be contained when counting on both hands. He is made to watch, not to keep. The children come and go. Their parents, too. His coworkers find him endearing, charming, amusing, silly silly silly silly silly.

But not worth staying for.

He tries writing letters, assuming (hoping) that it is his voice or maybe his face which scares them away. Maybe he can’t find the right words, and his hesitance is too ugly to bear. Maybe it’s a matter of not saying the right things, or not saying enough of them. Writing it down will fix this, he thinks, and so he gets to work.

The first letter isn’t good. No, no, it isn’t good at all. He tries it again. This one isn’t much better. That’s okay! He has plenty of paper, see, and all the time in the world to get this right.

Time swims through scribbled ink, his hours punctuated with each shake of his head and the crunching of paper, forced into a ball and tossed over the shoulder to be discarded at a later time. It’s terribly messy and goes against his very coding, but then again, so does this beating heart of his. So do these feelings.

It’s a bug, he thinks. A sickness. There must be something wrong with him, surely. He can’t think of another reason for this madness. There are butterflies where his wires ought to be, a warmth in his chest that no amount of fans can reckon with. He feels so strongly about this. About you. And this time, the letter is perfect.

It has to be.

If it results in that familiar sting once more, well, he doesn’t think he will have the strength to try again.

He spots your orange sneakers from across the room and makes towards them like a bee, high on hope, catching you by your name just as you reach the exit doors. Your heel turns to question him, and your smile is thin. Polite. You want to clock out and be home, already.

The paper in Sun’s hands is folded neatly, basic printer white. The adhesive of a red heart sticker keeps the letter in place. His fingers tap-tap-tap against it for one anxious minute before he works up the courage to hand it over.

“Seeing as it’s Valentine’s Day, a-and everything,” he sputters, “I thought– well, why don’t you just give it a look?”

For all the opinions Moon had to share over the hours that the letter was being written, he is decidedly quiet now, of all times, when his voice and companionship is arguably needed most. There is a shared stillness to the room that is perfect as much as it is daunting as the letter is extended.

His gears tense like a held breath when you raise an eyebrow in his direction. You take it with the patience one might expect from any other retail worker; which is to say, too much. Your breezy attitude has him fidgeting with twice the enthusiasm, and the reasoning behind his restlessness is lost on you.

A confession lies between folded paper, unbeknownst to you, ready to be heard if you will humor him and listen. Your eyes return to the letter with an inquisitive hum.

Taking little care in preserving it, you break his heart.

Sun watches on with quiet resolve as the sticker is ripped in two, and the paper unfolded. He dares not move or utter a word as your eyes look over the small poem written in crayola purple. Short and sweet, with the intention of making his feelings for you known without it becoming too cheesy, he thinks it gets the job done well enough. His best letter yet! This assumption is further bolstered when your mouth upturns into a lopsided smile, but he can’t quite read your face.

Then comes the laughter.

Short, curt, a quick exhale through your nostrils more than anything else, as though he’s just told a joke that you found particularly–

“Oh, Sun…”

The letter is returned to him with that same humoring expression on your face, and it is here where he realizes that the look in your eyes isn’t returned affection at all. It’s pity.

“This is very sweet,” you insist, nudging the paper forward a second time when he doesn’t immediately take it back, “but it’s not like that between us, right? I mean, we’re friends, but…you didn’t seriously think this would work out, did you?” Another laugh, and this one stings. “Don’t be silly.”

There is an echo of understanding between his code. Your words don’t offer him the kindness of sinking in slow, rather, they cascade through his audio processors like a slap to the face, one after the other.

There it is again. Silly, silly, silly. Yes, indeed, how silly it was of him to think he could ever be anything more than a hunk of metal in human clothes, pretending to be something he’s not. At the end of it all, it’s not his face, or his voice, or the words he is too scared to say. It’s him. Silly, silly him.

And he is not something that can be fixed with crayon words and sticker hearts.

“…Sun?”

“Of course!” He abruptly straightens with a vocal tick of metal on metal, swiping the letter from your hands as if it burned you. “Of course I wasn’t being serious,” he continues, “it was a joke — a joke! You know me, silly ol’ Sunny. Just thought I’d give you a laugh before you went home for the night, is all!”

Printer paper white folds neatly over shaking hands. You might have questioned it were you not in so much of a hurry to get home, but as it stands you have more important things to get to, and a subtle tremor isn’t too out of the ordinary for the animatronic, anyway. Old wires, if you had to guess. The company really ought to get that fixed.

“Good one,” you say, a third and final laugh spilling between your grimace. “Well, I should get out of here. Thanks for helping out today.” Your eyes flicker towards the exit, then back, again, to where he waits like a statue, unmoving and with that same ever-constant expression staring back. “See you tomorrow?”

Something clicks and buffers in his voicebox as he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, a thousand responses readying themselves between the silence, questions he’s never dared to ask. How is any of this fair? Is it in vain, all these hours and days and years spent toiling with words that go no where, and feelings he isn’t allowed to have? To run his circuits ragged chasing after a heart he can’t keep? Am I better off alone, he wonders.

“See you tomorrow!” He says instead.

You can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt rising in your chest as the door clicks shut behind you. He sounded so genuine, you might have actually believed it if he were in any way built to host those kinds of emotions. You assume that he’s just mimicking them, instead. Putting on a show like he used to do before the daycare became his new objective. And yet, the idea of an animatronic truly feeling anything in the way of love makes you smile just a little as you head for the parking lot.

“…What a silly robot.”

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda (Part 2)

a/n: I’m terribly sorry this is late but it’s been a busy week. Please forgive me. Currently finishing up part 3!  Warning; this is angstyyyyyyyy

Joel Miller x Reader 

Word Count: 2186

PART 1         Masterlist 

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

Awkward tension disseminated the stifling space they found themselves trapped in. Ellie and Y/N’s attention darted to the cranky man, an element of surprise sneaking up on both.

Y/N fidgeted nervously picking at the hardened callus adorning her right palm. Her cheeks flared to life nearly unmissable to the common eye, but Joel? No, not a day passed he didn’t linger a second longer than appropriate. Shit, he practically lived for an accidental touch of the shoulder or brush of the leg. Joel was in stuck in hell and acutely aware of the angel and demon at war. Y/N was magnificent and he sure as hell didn’t…doesn’t say it enough.

Hastier than usual, Y/N grabbed her backpack with expert speed sprinting out the door towards freedom. She flew like a bat outta hell. Sunlight danced across her face. The warmth a welcoming distraction. Y/N gulped an anxious breath quelling her jitters. Whether by choice or not…she was fate’s bitch again.

Ellie’s hands waved maddeningly trying to nab Joel’s attention but the cowboy stood frozen transfixed by the last five minutes.

“Uh, earth to Joel?!”

Reality snapped back in place as Joel stared at the proud youngster. An aggravated grunt was all he mustered walking towards the door and out of this shithole. Ellie trailed behind.

The trio journeyed further down the path the wilted map laid out, one step closer to Wyoming, to a new beginning. Eager to break the discomfort, Ellie reached for her book. Anything was better than nothing, right? El thought so.

“Hey, I got a new one for you guys.”

The pages whipped in the wind forcing her to lose track of the current page.

“Any day now would be nice, ya know?” Joel’s prickly mood settled the score. Things were definitely soaring past uncomfortable and landed on planet catastrophe. Y/N stopped kicking dust up on Joel’s heels.

“Cut the shit, Joel. Let the girl speak.”

His answer or lack of must have been sufficient enough for Y/N as they moved onwards. Y/N grew fond of the child eventually loving the sweet but sour teen chiseling bit by bit but Ellie was worth the risk. Always.

A lighthearted tone filtered through their ears; a welcomed noise to the alternative.

“Why can’t you hear a pter—pt”

“Pterodactyl. It’s a dinosaur.”

Ellie repeated; the word feeling foreign on her tongue.

“Whatever. Why can’t you hear a pterodactyl going to the bathroom?”

Y/N smiled waiting for the punch line. Joel staggered ahead trying his best to ignore the current ladies of his life. Y/N counted to ten; “Oh out with it already! Enlighten us.”

An innocent laughter accompanied hardly allowing Ellie to reveal the answer; “Because…the p is silent!”

She broke into a fit of giggles amused at her own joke.

“Wow, might have to file that way away for a rainy day kiddo.”

They trekked six more hours before finding stable campgrounds. One by one, their sleeping bags rolled along the frosty, unforgiving terrain just close enough but never touching. With the sun long set and a fire ablaze, everyone settled into their nightly routine which usually consisted of Ellie reading her comic books and Joel retreating so far into his own head. Easier that way... It annoyed the living piss outta him. His hand clenched wishing to lace his fingers with hers, a pathetic token of affection. But the rational part of his brain told him to shut it off and bury it so deep not even he would know its residence.

“I’ll take first and second watch. Y’all catch some sleep.”

His eyes shifted over Ellie; “And don’t think you can stay up all night reading, tomorrow’s a big day for all us. That includes you, Y/N.”

Two silent beats passed. Joel resumed; “And don’t think I don’t know bout Frank sneakin you that sack of books you keep poorly hidden. Don’t fool yourself, darling. I’m always one step ahead.”

Her eyebrow rose in morbid curiosity; “Just because some of us are determined to quite literally suck the fun out of this shitty world doesn’t equivalent said person having absolutely anything to say about mine.”

Ellie agreed quickly nodding intuitively; “Oh, Y/N. What would I do without you?”

Her rebuttal was quick witted; “Not sure, die maybe?”

“Yep, you are so my favorite.”

A miserable grumble echoed back; “Heard that.”

“Goodnight o loveable child I never wanted but slowly let into my cold wretched heart regardless.”

“Sweet dreams, sucker.”  

Hours ticked by bringing him to the cuff of midnight madness. Joel surveyed the frozen forest scattered in shadows and secrecy. He hated when there wasn’t a clear-cut option. When it was kill or be killed, you’re suddenly forced to choose and fast. Little snores filtered the frigid air reminding him they at least would live to see another day.

 For the next couple minutes, Joel scavenged his memories; the ones that tugged at him most frequently were with his beautiful baby and Y/N. Every birthday, holiday, and Saturday movie night of their lives was spent creating infectious happiness. If only he had stayed the night he opted to run or kissed her without hesitation, given an ounce of himself so she could possibly understand the gaping hole she forever filled in his heart. She was his best friend, his confidante, his past. Too scared to be lovers, eternally looped in boundless temptation.  

Sarah’s death had permanently hardened him reliving the screeching cries of Y/N, the utter desperation tied in her howls, and the forlorn terror taking ahold of Tommy at the sight of Sarah’s lifeless limbs. The aching emptiness of her death shaped him into the monster he was today…maybe always has been. Y/N was a reminder of everything decent he ever had and for was reason alone to keep her at arm’s length no matter the cost. Joel Miller was a man of his word…most of the time.

Dampened twigs snapped beneath worn boots in the distance between him and the girls. His girls. Deep down Joel knew things could never pan out even in pre-Outbreak. He hid like a coward in plain sight from anything out of his control and that usually meant Y/N. Never predictable, a constant that scared Joel to his core. But not now, not when survival predictably remained on the forefront of his mind. He made a promise to Tess and he’d be damned if he didn’t do his best to fulfil it. Life was merciless and winter didn’t help their shared misery. He too was thankful to be closing in on their predicted coordinates, to Tommy.

A small hand rested atop his shoulder squeezing slightly. Joel tensed turning around. The pair exchanged looks. Her voice was soft like churned butter; “Let’s switch. You go rest up.”

At her cruelest, Y/N was compassionate. A calloused palm connected with her warm cheek. Y/N inadvertently leaned into the reassuring stroke. Her hypnotic eyes fluttered open at the foreign sensation jolting back. She sighed. Why did it always feel so natural with Joel? Why was this curse laid upon Y/N, to love and never truly know love. She was convinced it was some cruel cosmic prank handcrafted just for her. He lingered, thumb caressing the corner of her rosy lips. Flickers of hazel filtered through his irises allowing himself a moment of reprieve and relaxation. He bathed it in.

Their blissful bubble burst too quickly pummeling them to reality. Y/N pulled away instantly missing the welcomed heat.

“Y/N…”

With lightning speed, Y/N propelled off the soggy ground sprinting near a clearing. When deemed far enough, Y/N paused her back facing Joel. He stopped leaving minimal space.  

“No. You don’t get to do this. Not now, not ever. You hear me, Joel Miller?”

Confusion was written all over his face; “Darlin’, please talk—”

Y/N shook her head, her shoulders slumped forward; “See Joel, you can’t say things like that. I’m not your girl, you’ve made that abundantly clear time and time again so what else could we possibly have left to discuss, hm?”

“That’s not fair.”

A chortle slipped from Y/N only angering his budding temper.

Her gaze seared into his; “You really wanna do this?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”  

“Fine, let’s fucking go.”

Y/N angled her body facing Joel.

“You love the way I make you feel. The endless compliments, the incessant worship, the prioritized attention, I mean the list just keeps going. You give me just enough of yourself and then inevitably pull away. Girl after girl just waltz through and I let you because I figured it was better to have you in any capacity than not at all. I fucked up by putting you first, but you allowed it, didn’t you?”

She bit the inside of lip refusing to cry in front of him. He didn’t deserve the privilege. His mouth opened ready to interject. Y/N continued.

“I’ve been in love with you for so fucking long, humiliation would be too nice of a term. Don’t bullshit or bait me. Every morning I wake up, I have to swallow this bitter pill. So no offense but fuck you for using me to make you happy until you felt like you didn’t need me anymore and left me wondering where I went wrong.”

Words flew fast; “Yer putting words in my mouth! Haven’t even given me a fighting chance. You’ve already called the winner.”

Y/N’s hands fisted by her side in attempt to suppress her irritation.

“I gave you two decades. I hated myself for imagining you. Every kiss, every caress, every fucking thing. And then you--.”

His heart jumpstarted genuinely fearful of the path they were going down.

“The night we made love, I thought I’d finally won, that the heavens aligned or some bullshit. You’d never kissed me like that before. When I found you gone in the morning, I still held out, you were going to be different. You fucked me and discarded me for the newest model. Guess you got it out of your system.”

“S’not how I remember it.”

“No? Remember making me your glorified secret until Outbreak Day? You were embarrassed and I was heartbroken. Luckily, some higher power saw fit to give me a six-year breather until running into you …and Tess.”

Joel was solemn, remorseful and unsure what qualities she found attractive.  

“Is it my turn yet? Great. Now listen here, I was an asshole and a manipulator, and an overall garbage human. I worked too much, made no time for hobbies of my own, I didn’t...don’t understand why you--.” His voice shook for barely a second finding his footing quick; “You deserved an entire galaxy. I couldn’t give you that, not on my best day. Eventually, you would resent me. An ordinary loser who couldn’t begin to make you happy.”

“That wasn’t your choice to make alone. It takes two to tango.”

“I know.”

“We’ve done this dance before. I’m tired, Joel. I wanna live just for a second without this hostility, this fury underneath my skin. I need to—exist.”  

Ellie’s sweet snorts erupted the intensity. Thank God, the youngster isn’t eavesdropping for once. The rustle of trees casted dazzling shadows and a far spookier imagery.

“It’s bout time we go our own ways. Don’t you think?... Joel, I’d rather live without you than like this.”

It tasted putrid leaving an unpleasant taste in her mouth; “Ellie is the only reason I’m here. That girl softened something in me and I know you hate that and yer a hardass but guess what, Joel? You aren’t the only one that lost somebody so quit being so damn selfish and buck up. It’s more than just you and me, old man.”

His signature scowl was more than enough for Y/N to know he got the message. She awaited his rebuttal but it didn’t come. She stood resolute and waited again met with nothing. His upper lip snarled but Joel nodded nonetheless. Dreadful relief flooded her system. The metallic taste of blood overcame his senses realizing he’d torn the inside of his cheek. Say something, anything you idiot!

He didn’t. Because this wasn’t a fairy tale and he wasn’t a prince. Shoulda, woulda, coulda.

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

Ellie awoke with a loud yawn, alerting the group. Y/N and Joel ignored each other packing in complete silence. Ellie’s eyes bounced from grump to grumpier electing not to rock the boat. Y/N pulled the map showing Ellie the trail; “How many days does that equal? My math isn’t, uh, 100% reliable.”

Joel butted in; “Day or two give or take. Almost to Jackson County which means it just a few miles at that point. Time to get goin’.”

El trudged through the infinite icy slush together. Her socks were damped sticking to weirdly to the heel of her left foot. Though crisp, cool air was much welcomed compared to stale, humid summers. Turns out, global climate was indeed not a joke. Luckily, that too fell with the collapse of society. With their destination soon in sight, Y/N could’ve sworn a spark of hope ignited in her veins.

----------

Tags: @beltzboys2015-blog @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @wildmavs @brittlebarbie @freyafriggafrey @deansgirl79​ @neoqueen306​

[foxilayde]

Half of You (Part 2) [Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader]

PART 1 HERE

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Male masturbation. Language.

Summary: You accompany Santiago to his... self-love appointment.

A/N: this story is just pouring out of me. The response to Part 1 was so amazing, pls let me know if you like this and if I should keep going.

“You didn’t need to come with me.”

“I won’t be cumming with you.” You elbow him in the ribs over the lacquered pine armrests of the waiting room chairs the both of you are seated in.

“Ha ha.” Santiago rolls his eyes and fidgets his thumbs, tapping his heels on the short carpeted floor. 

“Are you nervous?” Your tone takes on a more concerned quality, you place your hand on his elbow and rub his arm with your thumb. This is a lot to ask of him. Far beyond the scope of normal friendly obligation. This isn’t helping you unload boxes on moving day, this is… cumming in a sterile cup to conceive a child. 

Santi nods. His eyes scan the room. “A little.”

You want to tell him that it’s okay, that he should relax, it’ll be over soon. That his nerves are partially to do with the fact he hasn’t ejaculated in 4 days (a tidbit of necessary information that you did not reveal to him in your dinner discussion). Instead your voice cracks when you tell him “you’ll do great!” 

He fixes a hard, stony stare onto you and you can’t help but laugh. 

“Oh come on! You’ve gotta be all pent up from not… you know. You’ll feel so good afterwards.”

Santi shakes his head, staring at his lap. “Remind me again of why I wasn’t allowed to jerk off for four days?”

“You can’t be serious.”

Santi’s eyes narrow on yours.

“Because of the sperm count!” You whisper to him, suddenly aware of the waiting room full of couples and solitary women. “The longer you abstain, the higher the count. If we want the IUI to work, then you gotta keep the count high.”

Santi sighs in defeat. “Yeah.”

“You were able to, right?”

“What?” 

“Abstain?” 

Santi’s brow furrows in incredulity. “Of course I abstained!”

“Just checking.”

“Listen, Vin. A man does not forget when someone tells him he’s not allowed to cum for 4 days.”

You definitely owe him another steak dinner. Maybe not at the same restaurant, but you make a mental note to secure a reservation once he goes to… his business. 

“Thank you.” You hastily whisper to him, patting his elbow.

He nods without looking at you. Still twiddling his thumbs, heels still rocking to and fro. 

“Garcia, Santiago!” A nurse calls from the station door. You rise with Santi.

“What are you doing?” He whispers gruffly at you as you sling your bag over your shoulder.

“I’m, coming with you, duh.”

“No you’re not.” He sets a hand on your shoulder. “You sit down here and wait for me. Or leave, go to Starbucks or something.”

You laugh and step towards the nurse. “Of course I’m going with you!” 

His eyes are wide but stern. 

“Sit down, Vin. This is a solitary activity, I’m pretty fucking sure.”

“I’m here for moral support!”

He shakes his head and places both hands on your shoulders. “Look, it’s weird enough that you tagged along to this appointment. Doctor Shepherd said it was just supposed to be me. Let me do this alone, right? Its a… it’s a fucking removed process! I—“

“Garcia, Santiago!” The nurse shouts again into the waiting room. 

You really don’t want to make this more uncomfortable for Santiago than it already is, and truthfully you hadn’t considered that joining him today would make things even MORE weird. So you acquiesce and sit back down, patting his lower back as he straightens up and makes his way to the station door. 

“Knock em dead!” You call out to him, earning a chuckle from the room of expectant mothers. A faint red flush creeps up his cheeks and he gives you the Greg Focker ‘I’m watching you’ eye-fingerpoint to which you wink at. He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head at you, pantomiming an “straight to the moon” honeymooner’s fisticuffs threat. 

He disappears behind the door and you sink back into your seat, rifling through the stack of magazines on the little table to keep yourself occupied for the next however-long.

~~~

“Garcia?” The nurse greets him dubiously, clipboard in hand.

“Yes.”

“Hmmm.” She scans the papers on her board and lifts a page, eyes darting back and forth before she drops them and, no shit, gives him a once over, tip to toe, while shaking her head. What in the fuck?

“Problem?”

“No. No, not at all. Santiago Garcia?”

“Yes.”

“No need for attitude, sir. Just making sure.”

Santi bites back the vitriol, nearly cracking his molars in the process. 

“Alright, mister Garcia” Even the way she says his name seems to be dripping with air quotes. What in the fuck? “You’re going to go into that room there where there are materials you can help yourself to. This is a sterilized cup, please don’t do anything to this cup other than catch the sample.”

“Got it.”

“Please don’t interrupt me Mr. Garcia.”

“Sorry?”

She sighs exasperatedly. “Do not spit in or lick the cup, do not put any other fluids other than ejaculate in the cup, do not rub the insides of the cup on contaminated surfaces including but not limited to your clothing, other body parts, furniture—“

“Jesus, what goes on in there?”

“Do not interrupt me, sir or I will have to ask you to vacate the premises. Do you understand?”

Santi wants to scream, to take this woman’s clipboard and break it in half on his knee. The only thing keeping him sane is the thought of Vin. This is all for Vin. Vin. Vin. Vin.

His breathing slows and he nods. “I understand. Please, continue.”

The nurse eyes him dubiously. “You’ll have a maximum of 30 minutes in there at which point an attending nurse will knock on the door. If you fill the sample before that allotted time, please seal the sample with the attached lid and bring it to this cart, right here by the station. Do you understand?” 

“Yes.”

The nurse shakes her head at Santiago slowly, sizing him up once again, her gaze lingering on the cup in his hand. He fights the urge to shout at her what the big fucking deal is, why she doesn’t think him capable of following such basic commands. But he doesn’t. He breathes evenly instead, and asks,

“Should I… may I go in there now?” Christ he just wants this over with.

The nurse narrows her eyes at him and he feels nothing but rage. 

“Go ahead.”

Santiago releases a deep breath and leans toward the nurse to read her name badge. “Thank you Nurse… Johnson. Much appreciated” 

Nurse Johnson clutches her scrub-clad chest and Santiago turns and enters the self-love room, alone at last.

``````

It’s intimidating. The amount of erotic material. Tapes line the walls like a filthy library and suddenly that 30 minute timeline doesn’t seem like enough. No doubt nurse Johnson has a thirty minute stopwatch on him and he can feel the seconds tick down his nerve-bare spine. 

“Shit” he mutters to himself, checking the spines of each video. Nothing grabs his attention and he figures he’d better calm down before attempting anything. He sinks into the armchair before thinking about how many jerk-off sessions must have taken place in it, and he’s propelling himself out of it, pacing back and forth in the cramped room.

“For Vin, for Vin, for Vin.” He repeats to himself and gives himself a slap across the cheek for good measure. The only thing that draws his cock out of his jeans is the thought of the timer running out and him not producing a sample. Coming out empty handed? It’d be ample enough reason for Nurse Johnson to give him yet another judgy ‘up and down’ and he can’t have that.

His cock is limp because he can’t stop thinking about the infuriating nurse. He lowers himself back into the questionable armchair and strokes his needy, flaccid cock in his palm. His only thought is on Vin. How he can’t let her down. He settles back more fully into the seat and scrunches his eyes against the fluorescent lights. 

Vin. Vin. Vin. He licks his lips and tells himself he’s thinking only of her desire to have a child… His child.

His cock grows hot and full at the thought, quickly swelling heavy with blood in his palm. Vin, Vin, Vin. He sees her smiling up at him. He imagines her crawling up his lap with that stupid smile of hers and kissing the shaft of his cock. He grips himself harder, thumb spreading his pre-cum over the head. Fuck. His legs relax and he tilts his head back into the recliner. 

It’s her hands on him now, not his own, that pump him straight and hard, licking slyly every now and then, the way he always thought she might. Bastard. He's a Disgusting bastard. He pulls harder on his cock, fucking up into the circle of his fist. He’s a fucking pervert, more perverted than shoving in some kind of Step-Daddy video to the player or some shit. He’s thinking about his best friend. The woman not a few yards and several walls away. She’s probably humming to herself, reading an article in the waiting room, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. God fucking dammit she’s so pretty. Fuck, if he wants to cum for her, he simply has to degrade her in his own mind, it’s the only way.

His cock wins over his brain and he pictures fucking her the way he’s pictured it a hundred times before. Shoving down those tactical pants, getting her on all fours and fucking her stupid on the nearest hard surface of anything. 

He grits his whole face shut, imagining how she would beg for it. Especially now, all baby hungry and begging for his cum, begging him to fill her up, begging him to fuck a baby into her— something he’s never considered before that steak dinner. Fuck. How the tears might gather and fall from her eyes with how hard he rams her cervix. Shit. Fuck, he’s close, he wants to give it to her so bad. Wants to fill her up, give her everything she needs, wants to kiss those pretty tears away when he… fuck shit Jesus fuck,

He manages to have enough forethought to shakily grab the sample cup and cum into it. The whole process ruining the hot fantasy in his mind. He’d rather cum without it, letting his seed spill over his pumping fist. No, he’d rather cum in her. Cum in Vin, feel the heat of it coat the head of his pounding cock in her needy pussy… but that’s not happening. That’s never going to happen. So he pants and curses, spilling himself into the stupid cup. He bites his tongue and squeezes the last drops from his cock into the cup, knowing that this ill gotten gain will be injected into her womb shortly. The thought sends a shiver up his spine and if he weren’t so god awful tired, he’d be getting hard all over again. 

END

taglist:

@miraclesabound @reallystressedhoneybee @blackberries45 @plz-and-spank-you @bit-dodgy-innit @rnlaing @stevenngrant @sharin4readers @hebelongstothestars @stardustbells @alwritey-aphrodite @libraryreservations @eroticandawkward @tripleheartx . @johnny-simpfinger @fangirlfreakingout @jake-g-lockley @lunawants

[justaholycorpse]

“The Giant and The Bird”

||König x gn!reader||

PART THREE

a/n: this is the final part of this story(unless y’all want more)! i have a few posts that need to come out after this so keep an eye out for those when they do. On that note: enjoy the slightly different writing style and aesthetic

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Days had continued to pass by like a blur, days bleeding together as you slowly carved into a husk. You had become a different person, detaching from your team and the man you once called “My Giant”, it wasn’t because you were hurt that he forgot about you or because he spent so much time with that medic. You just remembered your place within the team, you are meant to be a soldier, not someone who falls in love with their coworkers. Price knew it better than anyone else on how you were feeling about the sudden change, the old medic had been sent to another team due to them needing him which unfortunately caused you and your team to gain a less than optimal medic. She barely did her job and flirted with him. Which didn’t sit well with you, you were his bird not her, you helped him with his social anxiety when it got too much for him to handle alone. She barely knew how to say his name correctly, you memorized every single way to say it, you memorized everything about him. It was taxing on you, constantly trying to put on a brave face for your team, trying to convince them that you are alright and that you didn’t need more time to yourself. You’d rather hear bombs and gunfire than hear your own thoughts or the way his warmth felt next to you, he was always so warm no matter the weather. You’d rather drink acid than remember how safe and warm in his arms any time he hugged you or how his voice sounded when he said your name. You wanted to forget, just for a moment, everything about him; however it was next to impossible when he was what kept all the evil in the world away. You took a deep breath before knocking on a familiar door, it was late but you had things to say, things you kept quiet about. It ate away at you. Your knuckles met the door three times, soft knocks seeming too loud for this hour, shuffling as someone got out of bed.

She opened the door in his shirt. His sniper mask hastily pulled on to hide his features, you felt a rage bubbling in your veins. ‘I need to speak to König.” You demanded, not wanting to deal with her. ‘Sorry, uhm, who are you?’ Her voice cut through your thoughts, earning her a glare. ‘König. Now.” Your eyes focus on him, you could see his body go tense, you could almost hear him gulp in what seemed to be fear. You took several steps away from the door so he could make it out of his door and stand comfortably within the hallway. ‘Walk with me.’ You commanded, turning on your heel and making your way to the front door, his foot steps following you outside. You could feel the tension between you and him, his warmth a foreign feeling now, especially with the freezing night air. You pointed him to a bench that was probably stolen by Soap to “liven up the place”, which he sat on without protest. ‘We need to talk.’ You stated the obvious, cutting though the almost bitter silence. ‘About what?’ He looked at you though his lashes for a mere second you swore you’d melt, but he looked at his fidgeting hands.

‘The text.’ You finally spoke after some time, you felt yourself growing nervous. You hated to make his anxiety spike but this, here and now in the freezing cold, was one of very few times you’d spike it intentionally. ‘You deleted it when I started texting you. Why?’ Your adrenaline was the one thing keeping you warm while he sat oh so far away from you, he didn’t answer, he didn’t dare look at you. ‘König. Why did you delete the text.’ You watched his chest heave a heavy sigh, he was trying to find the words to tell you why but it never came, words failing him yet again. Silence fell over the both of you for what felt like eternity, another deep breath from the giant man, swallowing his nerves the best he could but his hands still shook. ‘I did not want to hear what you had to say,’ His words cut though you like a dull knife, words caught in your throat as he continued. ‘You do not feel the same I assume so rather than continue to play a game, I deleted the text.’ He drew a breath, almost bracing himself for the inevitable time bomb about to go off. ‘I am happy with her. You cannot change your feelings now.’ You blinked back tears. ‘What?’ Was the only word that spilled over your lips, you felt a crushing weight on your chest. ‘I was going to tell you how much I fucking love you.’ Anger held you in a debilitating grasp, his head whipped up in shock, he saw how tears welled in your eyes and how your brows twitched. You let out a bitter laugh, ‘For fuck sake, König, you immediately assumed I didn’t feel the same? You didn’t even let me fucking speak. You tell me how much you seemingly ‘love’ me but you wasted no time in getting between her fucking legs. Have you ever considered the fact I do love you?’ Anger spilled from your being, shaking from how much you’re letting out. He looked at you with shock, watching you pace back and forth while letting out every emotion you’ve hidden and shoved away. You would angry, who wouldn’t be? He moved on so easily while you sat in your room, tracing your fingers over your arms the same way he did, you stayed up night after night just hoping he would come back. He never came back for you no matter how long you’ve waited, how much you cried and prayed to whatever god is looking down at you. He was so quick to get over you.

‘Did you ever actually love me or was it a stupid fucking game? Did you ever, in your whole god damn life, that maybe just maybe you should’ve wait for me to finish talking? I’m guessing you didn’t because you moved on so fucking quick that it makes me get whiplash. You never actually loved me, did you?’ You stopped your pacing to look at him, he was on his feet now trying to find a moment to cut into your ranting but like a fish out of water, his mouth opened and closed no matter how many times he tried to talk. You shoved him back, anger and tears clouding your vision as you pushed and pushed, throwing a few punches at his stomach and chest. You let out little sobs here and there, bitterness cracking as sorrow seeped into already deep wounds. ‘I fucking loved you, hell, I still love you but you’re already with Miss. ‘I’m so much better than you in every little way’ fuck sake.’ You took steps back as you searched his eyes for anything left of his so called love for you, anything that remained you of the giant you loved before. There were glimpses of that man, but they were far and few between, König finally got the chance to speak, words flooding out of his mouth like a sorry symphony. You tried to listen, you tried to find a reason to forgive him but one question burned behind your eyes, cutting him off you began, ‘So your first thought was ‘let’s go fuck the new medic to make him jealous’? Why not just fucking text me if you didn’t want to talk to me?’ You forced him to think but he searched your eyes yet nothing came. No words, no sounds, only the soft sniffles and panting from you.

‘You really didn’t love me, did you?’ Your words stung to say and for him to hear, it was a heavy bombshell to drop, your shoulders slumped as you nodded. ‘Right, sorry. I forgot that you are exactly how people describe you, a heartless man.’ You glare up at him, it was his turn to cry now but for some reason it felt good to watch him crumble under your gaze. You had finally made him cry, you finally made him feel bad for how empty he suddenly made you feel. ‘I hope she can take care of you the way i took care of you. I doubt she can but don’t come crawling when you realize she only wants you for your dick.’ You snapped, wiping your face before turning and leaving him in the frozen night, hearing the door of your bedroom click closed let you finally let it all out, breaking down as you slid down to the floor. It was over.

[teabutmakeitazure]

Twisted but Tender - 8: New Member

>Yan! Childe x Fem! Reader

a/n: I REALLY want to write Childe getting his ass handed to him by the kitten. It would be hilarious. "My own child trying to kill me!" Kitty bites his ankle immediately

Word count: 1.7k

Series Masterlist

------

Ajax is the same as Tartaglia in the sense that he doesn't have many weaknesses. His family is the most important thing to him. Everything else comes later. He would gladly lay down his life if it meant them being happy. Nevertheless, today was a fruitful day, for today was when he found out about his second weakness.

Your eyes.

There's just something about them and how you cunningly use them to make him do things he wouldn't otherwise. Just flaunt your eyes once and he finds himself giving in to your whims and demands. That is, only if he deems them harmless. They're still addicting and make Ajax want to stare into them all day.

And honestly, he would if you'ld let him. Which, spoiler alert, you do not. So when you abashedly kept sneaking glances at him while he was dressing, he knew something was up. It could be one of two things. Either you wanted to have him or you wanted to ask for something but you're too shy.

He can read you easily a lot of times but you don't need to know that. It's nice having you go through so much inner turmoil before you can have it in you to confront him.

You looked at him again, in his reflection in the mirror, but looked away as soon as he met your gaze.

How adorable.

"It's not like you to be sneaking glances at me when I'm getting ready." He turns on his heel to face you as you sit on the bed, "Don't tell me you want this shirt off?"

You don't think you've ever felt your cheeks heat up at his words, except for now. The image of him with his shirt off keeps invading your mind as you shake your head and slap your cheeks multiple times during the day to stop.

However, you know he's soft for you so try and exploit the opportunity. "No, but I was thinking of asking you something."

"Asking me what?"

You mentally go over the words you practiced in your head countless times but feel yourself shying away again. Biting your lower lip, you fidget with your hands and Ajax senses distress. He walks over.

"Again, you're not acting like yourself."

With a now averted gaze, you mentally facepalm yourself for revealing it earlier.

He puts one knee on the mattress and leans over, "You can say it. There's no reason to be shy. I'm supposed to fulfil all your needs so if you need something, tell me."

No answer. He tries again. "Do you need something from the market? I can accompany you if it's of importance, or even a necessity for that matter."

You shake your head. Just say it, the worst he can say is no.

He sits down in front of you now, "Then what is it?" With how you're keeping quiet and averting your gaze, he hopes it isn't a stupid request again, like the one where you asked to visit your parents.

Bringing your hands up, you slap your cheeks a few times to compose yourself as Ajax sits there confused. He doesn't understand what's up with you at all. Wanting to ask for something? Then slapping yourself like this? The best deduction on his part is that you want to ask him something embarrassing.

"I was… well, I uh-"

"You don't want me to go yet? Is that why you're stalling?"

"No! That's not what I- nevermind." You make eye contact with him and make your best puppy eyes. "You're mostly out for work and I'm always at home, alone. It gets… lonely. I was- I mean I thought about it a lot and I thought I'ld ask you."

"Go on."

"I've always wanted a pet. Mom never let us have one because she thought that responsibility would fall on her. But I don't live with her anymore so uh…"

"You want a pet?"

"Yes, a cat, if you don't mind."

He places a hand on his chin in contemplation, "Well, I'll think about it. A pet is a huge decision after all."

Well, at least he didn't say no immediately.

On his part, he does like the idea. A little pet that would keep you company in his absence and help you learn how to take responsibility in order to train you for the future when you both have children. It's a win-win situation.

There is the possibility of you getting attached to the animal more than you're attached to him. He'll figure something out for that. Either way, the reason you've been so depressed is because of how you're alone without him.

And besides, what good of a husband would he be if he doesn't spoil his wife? Still, he can't agree right away.

"You have a valid point darling, but I'll think about it. Can't have anyone or anything stealing you away from me, now can I?"

"It's just an animal."

"And you, my dear, are very easy to please at times."

"Hey! What is that supposed to mean?"

He makes a sush-ing motion and slinks away to put on his jacket. He left, again, for his duties. At least he kissed your cheek this time.

-

A fluffy little ginger kitten. That's what he walked in with a week later. Surprisingly, he didn't bring it up again when he got home but it seems like you got your way when he walked in with it.

"Alright, listen up sweetheart. This little one was up for adoption and I thought that I'ld come back with you but it was the only ginger there and I was afraid someone might adopt it if I waited until tomorrow to bring you with me. So uh, here, an early birthday gift I suppose."

The little ball of fluff is sleeping in his hands as he extends them to you, who is quite literally screaming on the inside at how adorable it looks and is making heart eyes at it.

"You purposely chose ginger, didn't you?"

He just smiles. What a bastard. But hey, you got a pet! And it's adorable!

"It's a baby cat version of me, of course I would choose it."

You take the little sleeping kitten into your arms as you put the rest of the stuff he brought with him away. Ajax goes to change, satisfied with seeing such an expression on your face. "There's a new member to the family," he thinks.

Since he came home late today, you put the little kitten in a blanket and let it sleep on the couch as you start setting the dishes for dinner. You made a local specialty this time, all thanks to Abby. You just hope he doesn't get too excited.

Ajax walks back into the kitchen with his usual grin, one you've learnt to live with, and again protests that the two of you should eat from the same plate. The obsession with doing everything together is getting tiresome at this point and you just hope he'ld drop it. You're trying to keep him at arm's length but he's so freaking persistent.

Nonetheless, you get your way and you both eat separately. As you got up to do the dishes, he blocked your path saying that it can be done later.

He says he wants to go on a walk with you. That's weird. It's always you who asks for walks or outdoor activities. If it were up to him, you're certain you'ld never even see daylight again. There's even a little chamber in the basement you found which you can only guess the purpose of. That's why you're glad you can control your tongue at times.

-

After getting relentlessly teased by him for the entire time that you were outside, you angrily stomped inside as he followed behind, laughing till he was breathless. When you placed your gloves near the fireplace, you noticed that the cat was awake.

And that's how one thing led to another and now you're here, in bed, with the kitten in the crook of your neck (it wasn't detaching itself from you) and Ajax latched onto you from behind.

He's restricting your movements and weighing you down which isn't letting you sleep and it's annoying. Sure, he's warm and you've somehow grown fond of being held by him despite your best efforts not to, but he's so clingy at times. Emotionally, physically, in every way.

He's not even bulky, more on the lean side so how in the name of the seven is he so freaking heavy?

Deciding that you've had enough, you stir and maneuver your hand to pat him a few times. "Ajax?"

No response.

You poke his cheek, "Ajax."

He starts stirring and when you move, his eyes open to look at you. "Hm?"

"I'm sorry for waking you up but a little space please? It's getting suffocating," you say, trying to be as nice as you can. In truth, you're not sorry at all.

At your request, he loosens his grip but is still glued to you.

"I said space, not arms."

"You're getting a little too demanding, aren't you?" Him, in all his sleepy voice glory, is still as annoying as when he isn't sleepy.

"Please?" You internally gag at how you're trying to appease him.

He ponders for a moment, then decides on something. "Okay, but only if we hold hands. Turn to my side."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"The little one's sleeping on me."

Are you for real? You're denying him for an animal that you met just hours ago? Really? Goodness, if you're going to grow this defiant so fast then the cat might just have to disappear.

"He won't wake up, just turn."

Sensing a hint of anger in his voice, you oblige. The last thing you want is to piss him off. Luckily, the most that the little guy did was yawn in his sleep when you moved.

You let it curl up under your chin and extend your hand. There's a satisfied smile on his face as he holds it, all the while resisting the urge to hold you.

Maybe if you do keep listening to him, you can keep the cat.

[lieakitten]

Alhaitham’s Pet

Hihi Hello! Thank you all for loving my last post and as promised here is part two! Like I said before I am keeping this gender neutral if you see any errors please let me know! If people keep liking this I will keep the series going. I really love this story and I have plans for where it will go! Ily you all /p -Lieakitten <3

Part 1  ☘︎  Part 2  ☘︎  Part 3 Word Count: 1,072 Reader: Gender Neutral Content: +16

You did not run into Alhaitham again. In fact, it seemed like the scribe had vanished off the face of Sumeru since he asked you about your vision, which you often pondered. Why would he be interested in your vision at all? They were rarer among people. You were considered blessed among the gods. They had seen your struggle and acknowledged it. You should be proud of it. You fidgeted with it as you sat at one of the tables. You couldn’t bring yourself to read today. To do anything, for that matter. You did reports and ran jobs, but the thought of reading eluded you as you played with the vision, the silver holding it feeling somewhat warm against your hands. What was the point if you did not even use the thing? People with visions did wonderful things for the world, but yours sat unused against your hip. Unused and unwanted. Why did the Archons feel the need to bless a person like you? You were running another errand, which was putting books away for a few people who left them on the tables littered around the akademiya. You were slotting it away on the shelf when you felt the presence of someone behind you. You turned around, and there he was. A look flashed across his face as your eyes met his.

"Did you need something?" you asked the man. He was so close, you could almost touch him if you wanted to. You almost did, seeing how well defined he was through the tight black shirt he wore. You held back the urge as he spoke.

"Yes. Could you tell me about your vision?" Your breath stopped. He was still talking about your vision. Why was he so caught up in this? Alhaitham looked at you carefully, his eyes darting from your eyes to your vision. You nodded and blinked a few times to clear your head. You felt cloudy, as if you were trying to think through thick mud. "Ah. I have had it for a while, actually. It will be about 3 years now." The thought pained you for a moment. Has it really been three years? You felt your hand go and touch it again. You have not thought about it since you got it. Something inside you stirred the vision slightly. He shifted how he was standing, causing you to be distracted from your private thoughts as you pulled your eyes away from his quickly. "How long have you been studying here? I assume you are a scholar." Your response came fast, normal, and easy. You got asked this quite often; it felt easy coming off your tongue

"About 3 years. I am a scholar, yes." He seemed to pause and look at you again, like he was questioning something about you. Something he could not place. He nodded and turned on his heel, walking away without further questions. You stood there and watched him leave. How odd. You thought to yourself. You tried to remember what you were doing beforehand, but all thoughts about studying or working were long gone. They were the moments when he sought you out. You could not help but smile. He sought you out. Alhaitham. One of the biggest names in all of Sumeru sought you out to ask you a few questions. A giddiness you had not felt in a while seemed to fill you like a pot of boiling water, and just like that, you might boil over with this feeling if left too long. You got called over by another scholar and went over; your steps felt lighter than they had in a bit. Did talking to him really do all this to you? Maybe you need to get out more. You had just about finished a report when you stood up, stretching. You had to turn this into one of the scribes. You smiled a bit as you waited for the ink to dry. Maybe you would seek out Alhaitham this time. It would be fitting, wouldn’t it? You folded the paper, hoping it was dry enough due to the excitement you had felt at the idea. You walked through the akademiya humming a soft song to yourself as your shoes clicked on the smooth flooring. You arrived at a tall door. It seemed to loom over you as you looked at it. Maybe this was a bad idea. You held the paper in your hand and stared at the door. You were preparing yourself to knock when you heard your name. You turned around quickly, trying to figure out an excuse for standing here looking at the door for so long, when you saw his blue eyes meet yours. Alhaitham. You felt nervous standing here, looking rather stupid. So you cleared your throat "This is for you. I had just written it up." He nodded. The way he looked at you now sent shivers down your spine. It was much different than this morning. He looked at you like a bug, like something to be ignored. Any feelings you had seemed far away now. He took the paper from you, his gloved hands touching yours. Your heart beats a bit faster. Alright, maybe the feelings were not all gone after all. "Thank you," he said, making you smile a bit. It was not praise, but it felt like it to you. You nodded and took a step forward to walk away from him when he grabbed your wrist. You turned to look at him. He had stopped you. You felt your heart in your chest a bit lightheaded at this all. He seemed to be thinking about something, lost in thought. "I need your help on a project," he said, releasing your wrist. Your arm seemed to tingle at the loss of touch from his hand. You nodded. He walked to his door, his movements quick and long as he mumbled something "I will see you tomorrow." The door closed as quickly as it opened, and once again you stood rather stupidly staring at his door. He wanted you to help him with something. You turned, holding your wrist to your chest like it was something precious. He touched you. He stopped you. He sought you out this morning. Your head spun slightly as you rushed away from his door. What had you gotten yourself into, and why did he want your help?

[dyketennant]

not to get sentimental about humanity or whatever but actually yeah there is good out there guys. i promise you i promise you there is so much good. look here is my list:

when i was a really little kid i cried after losing a carnival game (obviously i was 4 so i sucked at it) and the pre-teen age boy who won gave me his prize. i'm pretty sure i still have it somewhere 15+ years later.

one time i was crying on the train and the woman across from me gave me a snack from her bag; i tried to wish her a good day as she got off at her stop and was worried she didn't hear me, but the woman next to me reassured me she had without me ever asking.

when i had a meltdown at the hozier concert because my $40 t-shirt was stolen, someone behind me who was about my age gave me a fidget toy, and when i tried to return it they told me i could keep it (i still use it often, it's one of my favorites).

at the same concert, during the same meltdown when i was in the bathroom, the woman in the stall next to me asked me if i was okay and told me that things like that had happened to her, but that i still got to be there and (in her words) "see the guy" and it made things a little easier for me (i only ever saw her heels and her fingernails, but i later found out she was my dad's coworker, and she told him she was glad im doing better now).

in my freshman year of high school, i complimented a guy's overwatch shirt and we talked about it for a while before class started; years later he told me that it was the nicest anyone had ever been to him up until that point and that he still appreciated it—which shocked me, because he ended up being one of the most popular kids at school and is still good friends with a lot of my friend group.

when i was talking to my asl professor about why i was out of class for a few days (i was in the hospital for a few days following a suicide attempt) she hugged me and told me i was beautiful, and i still think about that professor nearly every day, and how she would always tell us about how much she loved her wife and their life together.

not long after that, my english professor reached out and wished me a happy thanksgiving because she knew i had been having a rough semester, even though she didn't have to and probably didn't do that for any other students (as far as i know).

when i was sorting through old papers i found years of hand drawn and painted birthday cards from one of my best friends, who made me one every year, and it made me realize how long they had been there for me during my worst.

i always start to feel dread when i leave for school, but one day, a girl accidentally got off the elevator on my floor, and then i proceeded to get off on a different wrong floor, and we both ended up in the same elevator and laughed about how we both made the same mistake, and wished each other a good day. it made my walk to the bus stop a bit easier.

at a writing conference, as part of a writing exercise, a woman told me a story about how she left her shitty ex boyfriend and had been single since, and i told her about how much i loved media analysis and symbolism; i wrote her a poem and she drew me a drawing. we never spoke again, but for a few minutes, it felt like we were old friends.

one of the bartenders at my old job loved our coconut macaroons, so i would save one for him so he could have it with his coffee. it was such a simple exchange, but it made me feel warm every time.

at that same job, i worked on my birthday, and once we were closed i asked the kitchen for any leftovers they had. they ended up making me an entire appetizer and singing happy birthday to me.

one time in the coffee stand drive thru, the guy taking my order got excited when he saw the pokemon on my dashboard, and pointed to his car across the parking lot with a gyrados in it. he then pulled a bracelet out of his pocket that said "cute" and said i could have it because of all my cute pokemon. later, i went again while wearing it and saw him, and his coworker said that he just loves making bracelets for people.

for whatever reason, a claw machine at a mall nearby had fraggle rock plushes inside; my friend and i spent forever trying to get some, but couldn't, and we both struggled to find good listings online. when i finally got my friend a mokey plush for christmas, they tackled me in a hug, and it's now one of my happiest memories (they then insisted on paying for my boober plush later on, so now we match).

and i am certain there are many many more instances i am forgetting. and i know things are fucking bleak now and always. and i know it's hard to see. but there is so much good. there is so much love. even from strangers. please believe me. life can be so full of love.

[winterpinetrees]

This is 1500 words. Tumblr is infectious and the symptom is “write about your ocs and post it online”. I don’t think I’m even using consistent tenses, but it exists. @caliburn-the-sword and @lokiwaffles, this is for you and also your fault.

………..

There was no way that the computer on the table was making it to the end of the road trip. Sierra has her (heavily modified, like the car) laptop on open to a google map of West Coast highways. The rich kids have been arguing over it for half an hour. In that time, their acquaintance had (re?) introduced himself. His name was Martin, his family was somewhere in the elaborate network of power that the boys had grown up in, and details weren’t important. The important thing was where they were going next.

“We should go south to Los Angeles, and then west. That way we’ll be in the desert for the solstice and have the most hours of daylight.” That was Clay’s plan. He had a goal to visit as many national parks as possible.

“If we do that, we’ll be in the desert for the hottest part of the summer! We go north on route 101 and follow the ocean all the way to the Canada border”. Brian explains for at least the fifth time.

“You only want to follow the ocean because you’ll die if you go a summer without surfing” Clay replies.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. We can go to Redwoods!”

“We live in San Francisco. We have been to Redwoods a dozen times”.

“And they rock! Those trees are thousands of years old. We can drive the car through a tree.”

Martin speaks for the first time in a while. “The hottest part of the summer isn’t the solstice. It’s a few weeks after that. Anyway, the Mojave desert will be miserable until October. You want to go north”. They’d almost forgotten he was there. It was a little shocking. The boy carried himself with confidence that didn’t feel like it should be ignored.

Clay immediately yields. “Fine. We go north to Redwoods.”

The boys put away their things and walk outside. Martin -Marin, whoever he is- follows behind them. Telling him to leave was unthinkable. Literally, the thought never crossed their minds. They walk down smaller, empty streets. Oddly empty. Well, it isn’t good weather, and that mild earthquake two days must have everyone a bit nervous. That must be the reason. Brian keeps looking over his shoulder though, especially as the fog grows and their visibility drops.

Sierra fidgets with the zipper of her sweatshirt. “Why is the fog so thick? It’s the afternoon?”

It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but there was also movement, and lights down a side street. Sierra’s vision flashes electric blue. She knows that humans sometimes see blue light when exposed to high amounts of radiation (It’s called Cherenkov Radiation, but where would it come from?) but she also remembers a rumor that a strange glow might be your only warning if supernatural danger is near. She reaches for Brian. The taller boy has already stepped away to stare down their strange acquaintance, but Martin looks even more afraid than they do. He swings the messenger bag off of his shoulder. “I’m sorry I dragged all of you into this. You need to run”.

Brian takes another step towards him. “Dragged us into what?”

Sierra finally grabs his arm. “I think I know. Run.”

By this point, Clay is already fifteen feet away from them. Brian does not run. Instead, he and his friend watch as -somehow- Martin reaches an entire arm into his small bag. He spins on his heels and draws an entire quarterstaff. His ears grow pointed, his hazel eyes begin to glow, and as if waiting for that signal, four figures step out of the fog.

They are from a different genre. That’s the only explanation. The soldiers around them hold glowing guns and shining blades and wear helmets that completely cover their faces. Lines of colored light run underneath the silver plates of their armor, which seems made for speed instead of true protection. One, tall and thin and wearing the electric blue that Sierra recognized, dashes at Clay fast enough that they are only visible as a blur. They have the human boy in a chokehold within a second. Another, more broad and colored pale yellow, turns to Martin and yells something in a language that is very much not English.

He throws his messenger bag at the remaining humans. “Grab the gun and turn the dial all the way to the left. We win or we die!”

Martin turns back to his attacker and snarls a reply in the same language. He drops into a fighting stance and briefly flickers like a hologram. Brian catches the bag and they finally run, ducking behind a car parked on the street. He passes the bag to Sierra, who puts the entire top half of her body inside, “It’s bigger on the inside! ...wait”. (She refuses to die making a Doctor Who reference).

The bag is at least the size of their car. She hears the sci-fi sounds of guns firing outside and pulls the rest of her body in. Sierra grabs a gun, hopefully the one Martin told him to, and crawls back out. The gun is pretty big, more like a rifle than a phaser, and she needs both hands to aim it. It’s a difficult task. The five elves in the fight are all moving faster than they should, and her acquaintance (ha) keeps blinking in and out of sight. Sierra checks to make sure that the dial is to the left (Is that the stun setting or the kill setting? What is she about to do?) and fires the moment one of the faceless soldiers pauses for breath.

A blast of emerald green energy shoots out of the gun and nearly misses the figure. Instead, it hits the soldier just above the elbow and all but takes off their left arm. They fall to one knee, then disappear with a faint pop and a bit of cobalt blue light. Simultaneously, the kickback sends Sierra to the ground. Brian picks up the gun and fires a useless shot. He manages to stay standing, at least. Three enemies remain. The speedy blue soldier who knocked out (Brian can’t let himself think about the alternative) Clay, the yellow leader, and a short cyan one that has raised its gun at- oh no. Brian ducks back behind the car and reaches back into the bag as light sears the air right above his head.

The boys hiding behind the car look at eachother and reach a silent agreement. Sierra takes back the gun. Their inhuman ally seems to be winning, at least. He’s impossibly fast and is keeping up with all three opponents. With the cyan one distracted, Martin takes the opportunity and does something magical that leaves the soldier on the ground. They vanish with a pop, and unlike Martin, don’t come back. Clay, thank god, starts moving again. He makes eye contact with Sierra just as the blue soldier knocks Martin’s staff from his hands. The prince looks towards the humans behind the car. He seems terrified. The leader charges at him, holding their shortsword in a backward grip. They say something again, quietly, and Martin doesn’t respond. He tries to vanish again, but some magical pulse from the leader reveals his location. A blue blur knocks Martin to the ground and points its gun at his head.

Sierra tosses her own gun at Clay, and Brian vaults over the hood of the car towards the fight. He is still holding the bag in his left hand. The leader notices the 6’3”, adrenaline-fueled teenager running at him and turns away from Martin. Wild humans, even untrained ones, are very dangerous. Brian pulls something heavy from the bag as a sword swings at him. He dodges the weapon on instinct and feels the edge of a blade skim his chest. He lifts whatever it is he’s holding. A club? A crowbar? Brian holds it in both hands like a baseball bat and swings like his father is watching. The bat connects. He brings twenty pounds of pointed steel down with arms that can hit a baseball at 100mph. The armor over the soldier’s chest cracks- and so do the bones. They gasp and their armor begins to glow far more brightly. Brian is close enough to see two blindingly bright eyes behind their dark faceplate. Then a bolt of energy hits the soldier in the back and the light fades. They sway for a moment and fall with their sword still clutched in their hand. Clay glares at the body over the barrel of his gun. He adjusts his glasses without blinking.

The blue soldier is gone as well, also having been shot while Brian charged his enemy. The street is quiet again. The fog begins to lift. All four of them cautiously move towards the fallen leader lying face down on the pavement. Whatever these soldiers are, they bleed red just like humans do.

[sylvies-chen]

I wrote this at 1 am a few nights ago. Is it finished? Not really. But I’m too lazy to write an entire fic around one simple line I wanted Tim Bradford to say so… fuck it. Here’s a Chenford blurb!

••••••••

It’s not often Tim Bradford is shoving people into private rooms, least of all a walk-in closet. It’s not often he nudges anyone anywhere. When it comes to people he cares about, he makes a very specific rule of keeping his hands off. His paralyzing fear of becoming his father is to thank for the extra attention he puts twoards making sure of that. But now, as his mind has been racing for days, it builds up to this moment, right here and right now, where he’s frantic enough to be herding Lucy into what is arguablty the precinct’s nicest and most spacious walk-in supply closet (which the Smitty’s of the precinct have ranked as number one).

Because, as always, Lucy Chen is the exception to all of his rules.

“Wha—” she tries to protest but is too confused to do anything but oblige, and when she gets in the closet she spins on her heel. “What are you doing?”

“We need to talk.”

“See generally, a normal person would say that first! Before shoving someone in a closet!” She chastises him, clearly bewildered (and with good reason). Her hands move up to poke him in the chest with pinched fingers. “In fact, a normal person wouldn’t even need to be herding anyone anywhere like a sheep, because they would ask nicely!”

The growl in her tone is justified, and is just biting enough to make him put his spiralling brain aside for one moment and assuage his guilt. “I’m sorry,” he offers sincerely. “I just- I didn’t know where else to go. This is important.”

She looks him over for a second. Tim can’t imagine the sight she must be seeing. He’s agitated enough to be bouncing his leg, fidgeting with his hands, pacing back and forth in sweeping, angry strides. And when she sees that he’s serious, something in her switches. Her vague irritatuon fades into something more akin to concern and curiosity. “Ok,” she begins hesitantly. “Ok, then we can talk. What’s this about anyway?”

“That mission,” he mutters, almost as if talking to himself (which he partially is). “Ohhhh, that mission. That undercover op that ruined my life.”

“Yeesh,” she exclaims casually. “I know the op had its ups and downs but it was pretty successful in the end. It wasn’t smooth but I think ‘life-ruining’ is a pretty dramatic ajective.”

“Dramatic doesn’t mean it’s not true,” he argues. “I mean, something changed. I couldn’t tell when at first and everything was so muddled but… The mission was it. That was the turning point. It had to have been.”

“What are you talking about? You’re starting to worry me here, Tim.”

“It ruined everything,” he repeats. “It fried my brain, it made things awkward between us, my relationship with Ashley.”

“Things with us a— Wait, what?” She asks suddenly. “Did you just say your relationship with Ashley?”

His eyes go wide. Shit. He forgot to tell her about that part. “… Yes.”

“You guys broke up?” Lucy’s shock lingers for a second, and before he can answer she blinks it away and asks another question. “When did this happen?”

“Last week,” he admits.

“Wh— Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because of that stupid undercover mission,” he huffs loudly and with a growl. “This keeps happening.”

He feels something simmering in him: agitation, nervousness, god knows what. It seethes in his veins and bubbles in his voice.

“The flirting with Nova, Dim and Juicy being a couple.”

“What? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Twice now. Twice that we’ve had these weird alter egos or doppelgängers or— or whatever they’re called— that have been… involved. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“I-I don’t know,” she struggles to answer. (Tim wonders if she’s trying to figure out what he wants to hear.) “Not- not really. I mean c’mon, Tim, we can’t read too much into that.”

“Why not? We should be reading more into it,” he refutes, and even though he’s spiralling into an unstoppable panic and agitation, even though he knows he’s practically screaming now, flailing his arms, that he probably has the eyes of a wild man, he can’t stop it. He’s a train and Lucy Chen is derailing him completely. In all the worst, best ways.

“Oh my god, Tim, it’s alright,” Lucy insists, laughing in that exasperated I-hate-how-ridiculous-you’re-being kind of way. She teeters on the edge of being upset with him though. He can see her trying to mask something wounded in her eyes. “This stuff only has meaning if you give it meaning. If the idea of being with me— or of any people like us being together— is that disgusting, then just ignore it.”

Oh. So that’s what she’s offended by.

It’s confusing and overwhelming, the way he wants to reach out to her, grab her cheeks in his hands, and say baby, no, you are in no way disgusting. You could never be repulsive. His fantasy of doing this is evidence to the opposite.

Instead, this energy of his that’s ramping up to something keeps going. He shakes his head. “You don’t get it.”

She rolls her eyes, getting frustrated herself. Her energy finally matches his, until she shouts, “Get what?”

“Every version of me loves every version of you.”

The words rush out like water rapids against his tongue: rough, fast, clumsy, and above all else inevitable.

He tells himself that in an attempt to console himself. It was unavoidable. They had to have it out. He had to end his agony once and for all. It’s no use though, because she’s standing there, stunned and confused and trying to unpack all the layers what he’s just said, and looking at him like that, and jesus. He is an idiot.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he sighs in surrender.

“Like, just the others or—”

“Every. Version.”

“Oh.”

Yeah, he thinks awkwardly. His hands shove their way into his pockets and time stands still and even though it’s about seven weeks away from Christmas, he begins to sweat.

“I…” she begins to say, and is practically piercing holes through his pupils trying to search for something in them, some sign that this is real, that he’s not getting revenge for her prank those some odd years ago, that she isn’t dreaming up what he meant when he said that…

He gives her a small nod, as if to confirm it all, and something in her clicks.

Her lips part. He doesn’t know what that means— if she’s about to reject him, if she’s going to ask what the hell he meant or even reciprocate something, if she’s leaning in to… to…

But he doesn’t get to find out. Smitty finds them in his usual comically bad timing, and they’re forced to snap out of this alternate dimension they create when it’s just the two of them.

“Oh. Hey there, Serge,” Smitty greets Tim and Lucy in the supply, thought he’s playing Candy Crush on his phone and doesn’t seem to remark the strange nature of finding two cops in an enclosed space meant for mops. (For once, Tim actually thanks Smitty for his stupidity.) “Grey wants to see you in his office.”

Tim opens his mouth to protest. He swears he could scream at Smitty right now, shove him back and slam the door and tell him something private and important— so fucking important— is happening right now.

But all that comes out is a simple “Okay.”

He gives Lucy one last look. Her eyes are practically out of her head, which seems to be turning backcand forth between Tim and Smitty. In shock, in awe, or in relief, he doesn’t know. But he tries to say, as much as anyone can say anything with just their eyes, don’t go anywhere yet, this is just getting good.

With that, dashes out of the supply closet and runs off to Grey’s office, praying to god that when he comes back, she’ll be there. Waiting. It’s a risk, and god knows he doesn’t likes those, but it’s Lucy.

And so he prays.

[troublcmakcrs]

▸   @gas-stxtion​   ⟶   ❛  jack: “Tonight, I’m gonna keep you safe, okay?” //for tweek! protect the poor kid from The Horrors  ❜

After the first time, it had turned into a habit for Tweek to show up at the gas station late at night when he couldn’t sleep.  He found out the same man worked the night shift most of the time, the same one who had helped him through the unfortunate incident that occurred during his first visit, and he came to regard the gas station as a safe-ish place, at least when Jack was working.  If, by some odd miracle, there was somebody else working behind the counter, the entire place felt off.  Tweek could not shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong with it, and he began to notice strange occurrences.

Once, when approaching the gas station on one of his night walks, he saw what appeared to be a tall figure in a yellow raincoat standing near the dumpster in the back, illumined by the light over the rear door.  They stood almost entirely stock-still but swayed a little bit, as if they could feel Tweek looking at them, despite having their back to him, and wanted to assure him that they were real and alive rather than a statue.  He did not venture behind the gas station to see who they were and what they were doing because he liked to think that he wasn’t an idiot, but he at least saw them when he was approaching it from the side.

Then, another time, he went into the bathroom and got the distinct impression that he was not alone in there, even though the rest of the stalls were empty.  It was freezing in there, and his teeth chattered in his skull, and he did not actually want to take a piss, but he felt about to explode, so he rushed through it and then dashed out of there, refusing to look directly into any of the mirrors in case he caught something behind him.  After that, he made sure to always do his business before leaving home because he did not want to take his chances with whatever worse thing might be in the women’s room.

But if Jack was here, it all felt fine, and Tweek sat on a wooden stool, nursing a medium coffee and a pack of gummy bears.  He kicked his feet back and forth, thumping his heels against two legs of the stool, one of the fidgets that implied an unusual amount of calmness for him.  He was still trembling slightly, which was perhaps why Jack talked him out of a large coffee, but otherwise, he was mostly comfortable and content.

“Okay,” he said, nodding, his expression still troubled by something.  Even if he was mostly composed, it was still difficult and rare to drag a smile out of him.  “Th-thank you for—hh—letting me stay.  I know you’ve got work to do, too.”  And babysitting was rarely part of a gas station attendant’s job description.

“You weren’t working the other day when I came,” he noted, looking off toward a display of candy bars—buy one, get one for fifty percent off—“so I left again.  I didn’t like the look of the person behind the counter or of the whole rest of the place.”  Jack could not work all the time and probably needed days off here and there, but Tweek still disliked being around strangers, especially when there were bad vibes emanating from other parts of the store.  He wanted something familiar to latch onto and trust, so he always swung quickly back around when he couldn’t find Jack.

“Jack, can I ask you something?” he said, turning his attention back to the man in question.  Then, without waiting for an answer, he pressed on: “Does… do you get… weird… stuff happening here sometimes?”  He realized what an idiotic question that was and corrected himself—“I mean, besides all the dead guys in the freezer.”  Shit must go down here somewhat regularly if Jack was so blasé about murder and if there were that many corpses of the same guy on the property.

“Like I saw a really—a really weird person standing out back one time, not doing anything, just standing around, but in a freaky way.”  Maybe that was mean, and he should not have been assuming the worst about whoever it was, but they were a bit odd in his opinion, and he thought he caught a glance of them again on his way in tonight.  Having some reassurance that Jack knew who they were and that they were safe would do Tweek a world of good.  Perhaps, then, he could even go out and face the person in the raincoat and make two friends at the gas station, but he would not do it before he was told whether or not it was fine.

“Then, I got a—a weird feeling… the bathroom…”  Tweek trailed off and flushed pink, much less confident in his proceedings than he had been.  Craig constantly told him how much of his experiences were just in his own head, and now he felt silly.  “Like it might… be haunted.”  He sipped on his coffee and quickly averted his gaze again.  “It was probably nothing, though…  S-sometimes, I get—egh���w-worked up for… no reason.”

[evanpeterscoffeemachine]

Night changes || Draco Malfoy x fem! Reader

Just a third person’s point of view

Warning : Implied smut, kissing, sexual thoughts. IDK hand holding ?

Pairings : Draco malfoy x female slytherin reader.  

1st September, 1991.

Them meeting each other in the train was just as normal as meeting every other day. Their families had close bonds and so the children were also tolerable towards each other. 

1st September, 1992.

This time they were seen off by only their mothers. The children went and sat down in a compartment avoiding all the sneaky, git- like gryffindors. Of course they’d been taught the meaning of ‘blood purity’ and they took it seriously. Second year came by and went.

1st September, 1993.

The year when puberty takes you on a ride. His hair were falling from the sides. He had parted his hair, no gel, he was a bit taller and had started to wear his tailored black suits to complete the image of being a Malfoy. She had grown tall too. She had started wearing earrings more often and wearing long, light greenish dresses to keep up with her name and reputation in the wizarding world. This year they had started to talk a lot more. Being in the same houses was an added bonus to them. Their family was just as happy and them being in a euphoric stage of experiencing boys and girls and doing activities which were frowned upon by some. 

One day, after coming back from the library, Draco saw her going to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. She has tear stains on her face. She was obviously crying and had decided to wash her face since she didn’t want Draco to see her like that. Too bad he did. 

He followed her acting like some crazy stalker without calling her name. Just walking briskly silently.  

When she entered the bathroom, she walked over to the sink and washed her face. She grabbed a face towel from the side of the basin and looked up only to see Draco with a concerned look. He had tried to ask her what was wrong but she didn’t budge at all. He thought he had heard her mutter, “some stupid git told ‘em I was sleeping around”.

Turned out someone had. He beat them to a pulp the next day for hurting his “angel” as he started to call her. 

1st September, 1994.

The yule ball. They had gone together. They were fair dancers to be honest. Their friends had been out with their dates from different houses to which upon hearing they only scoffed and said, “isn’t she a muggle-born” or ,“isn’t he a squib like creature”. 

She had worn a soft green champagne dress down to her heels. With a simple pearl necklace Draco had gifted her and an ancestral watch along with black heels that complemented her oh so wonderfully. Her hair was all shiny and let down just like normal school days.

Draco looked dapper in his dress robes. He was wearing a white-button up shirt with a light pink bow, an all black coat with shiny black shoes. His hair was parted to one side with no gel. 

They had danced and drank so much that day. They were just a little bit tipsy but still sober enough to walk themselves to their dormitories. Draco tried holding her hand to which she didn’t realize what was happening. He thought his hands were clammy and excused himself from the dance floor. Just as he walking out of the great hall, she walked hurriedly after him and held his hand and asked him to stay back. He did. He was just imagining his hands were clammy. 

That night several witches and wizards were in other beds. Not specifically their own. Girls in boys’ beds and Boys and girls’ beds. 

The effects of the drinks were wearing off. And now they were fully sober. They were holding hands and walking down to the dungeons to sleep in their own beds but Salazar had other plans for them. 

They were walking silently, holding hands when she stopped in her tracks and said, “Draco, stop”.

“Why angel? What is it?”.

She was fumbling and fidgeting with her hands when he pulled her closer to him.

“Angel is this fine ?“

“Uh yes, this is what i wanted- i mean yeah this is wonderful no this is fine no that’s not what i meant i thought -. Let me just start over. Can i kiss you?“

“Angel, yes.“

He put his one hand on her lower back the other one cupping her jaw well. She held onto him as if her life depended on him. She had placed her hands on his face and kissed him tenderly. 

Once he broke the kiss they smiled at each other. They kissed again. Pulled from the kiss and kissed again. This happened so many times and as they got lost into each other, they didn’t even realize she was in his dormitory. His friends were somewhere else to which he was so thankful for. 

They were both lying on his bed. She was wearing a black shirt which he borrowed her. She wasn’t wearing any lowers. She just felt comfortable like that and this was Draco. Her friend?. He was wearing his usual emerald green joggers. He didn’t wear a shirt to sleep that day for some reason as she kept on blushing while looking at him and hearing his response with his signature smirk plastered on his face, “Like what you see angel? I mean I know I’m beautiful. But nothing and no one compares to you of course.” 

“Well thank you Draco.“

“I want you. Your love, your pain, your sadness. I want all of you and of course a few treats here and there.“ She laughed so loudly at the latter part he felt satisfied for the night and the days to come. 

“Only if you’re willing to share yours. Treats included Draco Malfoy.“ 

[midnightchronicles87]

The Gem and the Cat

It was just supposed to be a regular job. Go in, acquire the drive, and take it to his employer. An average day for Geocache. This day is anything but average.

It’s dark when he arrives at a back door of the large estate that he was told was the pickup spot. He was to meet with another bot for the hand off, a lady named Shaderaider. He thinks the name is interesting. I hope I’m not late, that would be so embarrassing. He thinks as he fidgets with his hands, waiting for something to happen.

A moment later, a small dark blue motorcycle alt drops from the second floor balcony. She stares at Geocache with piercing blue rings for optics for several seconds, eyeing him over.

“Are you the transport they hired?” She prompts, quick and to the point.

Geo smiled. “That’s me. I’m Geocache, and I suppose you must be Shaderaider.” He held out his hand for a handshake, but it was smacked away.

“We don’t have time for such pleasantries. We have a job to do, and it must be done fast. So shut up and let’s get going.” Shaderaider replies dismissively, voice cold and calculating, her cat-like ears twitching as she looks into the distance, arms crossed. A second later she grabs his hand, putting the disc into it. “Protect this with your life, Geocache.” She snarled, that last word having a sharp bite in the enunciation.

“There’s no need to be so harsh, I know how to do my job.” The orange and yellow plane chuckled, walking forward after stashing his cargo. Shaderaider transforms and speeds off, causing Geocache to also transform and follow suit, though slower.

Several silent minutes pass, and it’s only when they’re out of the neighborhood that they stop and Shade transforms. Geo does the same.

“Why have we stopped? Did something happen?” He asks, looking down at his traveling companion with a tilted head, and head fins at two different angles, with a confused expression.

The only response is an impatient huff and narrow eyed stare before she speaks. “Why are you so slow? We need to get this damn disc out of Iacon before the rich glitch finds out it’s missing. You should know the importance of efficiency in these sorts of matters.” she hisses.

“I’ll have you know that my speed is the perfect speed for carrying delicate cargo. I’ve been doing this for millenia, “ his eyebrows shoot up and he takes a half step back, ''and WAIT, did you STEAL?!” he shouts in surprise. Shaderaider facepalms, dragging her clawed hand down her face with an eye roll.

“Keep your voice down. Yes I stole it. That’s what we’re here to do, you should already know that. I mean, you’re posing as a transport.” she states, matter of factly. Geocache tenses up, his plating tight against his frame.

“No one told me I would be smuggling something! I was just told to take this disc from that place to the edge of town. No one told me I would be doing anything illegal!” He yelps, shaking from head to foot. Oh no, oh no, oh Primus why. I’m going to get in SO much trouble, he thinks, his mind racing. “Am I a CRIMINAL?” He cries.

His companion shakes her head in disbelief, before sighing angrily, “Yes, yes you are, now let’s go. And you will tell no one about any of this.” Geo feels an odd sensation in his tank at that last sentence, but he ignores it. He takes a deep breath, which does nothing to calm his nerves, and nods, still shaken. Shaderaider rolls her optics again before turning on her heel, transforming, and starting off down a side street. Geocache nervously follows behind her, fidgeting the entire way.

“Hey, Shaderaider, would you please wait up?” He calls a moment later. She turns to the side to come to a stop.

“What is it now?” She impatiently replies.

“Can we walk at least part of the way? I don’t think I could fly like this. The alleys are pretty narrow after all, not good for wings, and I somehow doubt you want me out of your sight.” the plane sheepishly pleads, his hands drawn close to his chest, index fingers tapping together. The motorcycle transforms and stares at him with a blank expression. She mulls it over for a moment, and after a look of dismay and silently questioning what led her to be stuck with this fool, deeply sighs.

“Alright, I suppose we could walk, but it better be quiet, and if anyone asks, you’re carrying average cargo, and I’m merely keeping you company. Got it?” She answers with a slight snarl and a cold glare. Geocache relaxes a little at this, and puts on a weary smile.

“Crystal clear. Thank you ma’am, and I promise not to bug you with small talk, much.” He chuckles slightly, before walking forward through the alley. The spy follows his lead, needing to speed walk to keep up with the transport she’s stuck with.

An hour goes by of Geo being told where to turn and when to duck out of sight of the main street, and many groans of frustration from Shade when he flinches at every little noise. They’re about to turn into another alley when Shaderaider halts in her tracks and puts a hand up to stop her companion.

She turns to him and sighs, “We can’t take this street, they’re doing construction and would ask us what we were doing coming through from the alley side. Too suspicious. We need to take the main street, it’s the only other way through this area. An unfortunate detour but a necessary one.”

Geocache blinks. “Ok, lead the way. I don’t do much ground travel around here, y’know, plane and all, so this has been quite informative.” I can act normal. I do it all the time. He thinks, taking a breath. I got this. I’m just carrying my usual cargo and not doing anything suspicious, just gotta keep telling myself that. They step out onto the main street and keep walking. He is temporarily dazzled by all the lights illuminating the way, it never fails to amaze him. Shaderaider just keeps her head down and strides ahead, weaving around other bots as needed.

Geo breaks out of his trance and notices he was left behind, mutters incoherently for a second, and dashes to find his companion, going “Excuse me, pardon me, sorry about that.” as he shuffles around bots, who glance annoyedly at him before moving. It takes a moment, but he catches up to the spy and taps her on the shoulder.

“Hey, aren’t we supposed to stick together? I’m sorry for stopping unnecessarily, but you didn’t have to run off like that.” He says, a tad exasperated. Shade turns around and curtly replies,

“Oh, sorry. I’m used to being by myself and weaving through crowds as fast as possible. I didn’t even notice you’d stopped.”

“Heh, it’s ok. Though I’m kinda surprised you’d forget I’m here, given my height and importance to this job after all.” He lightly teases, arising the slightest blush out of her. It quickly goes away and they continue on their journey. The duo go a few blocks before turning into the alleys again. This time Shaderaider is scanning the walls as they go down the alley. Geo looks at this with confusion.

“What are you doing, if I might ask?” He inquires, innocently.

“I’m looking for a way onto the rooftops. This is taking way too long for my and most likely our employer’s liking, and you said you can’t really fly in these alleys. So if we go to the rooftops, you can fly and I go much faster. Win win.” She states, not taking her optics from her scanning.

A moment later she spots a service ladder a few feet away and darts over to it. She climbs the ladder with great speed, and beckons Geocache to follow her once she reaches the halfway point. He does as instructed with slight hesitation, as the pit in his tank grows from the shady activity. I don’t like this, I don’t like this, what if we get caught? This is bad. His thoughts race as he climbs the ladder behind Shade, trembling slightly. His trembles shake the ladder a little and make it rattle under both their weights and his nerves.

“Can you quit shaking?! You’ll give us away!” Shaderaider hisses just loud enough for him to hear from the near top of the ladder. Geo stops and takes several deep breaths, calming him a little to stop his quivering, though it does nothing to slow his racing spark.

“Ok, sorry about that. I’m just freaking out because I’m part of a heist and no one told me.” He reminds her as he finishes clambering up the ladder, dusting himself off at the top. “That ladder had quite the dust layer. Must not be well maintained.” He muttered under his breath. Once he arrives on the roof, Shaderaider looks him over, before nodding with a “Hm.”

After a second of silence, she motions for the two of them to get a move on, and starts off in the direction they were originally heading. Geocache ruffles his plating before transforming with a little flourish and taking off. He makes sure to keep his companion in his sight, but takes no time in getting up to speed, simultaneously relaxing more at the sensation of flying above it all. As he gets back to his usual method of doing his job, it almost slips his mind that he’s doing anything wrong.

Geo periodically looks down to make sure he’s still following the motorcycle, which he is, until she stops short and ducks behind a structure on one rooftop. He sees this and swoops down to inspect the situation, transforming and landing with a soft thud before immediately being pulled behind the structure with Shaderaider, a squeak escaping him at both the sudden movement and sudden contact.

“Shaderaider? What’s wro-”

“Quiet!” She whisper shouts, covering his mouth with her hand, her optics narrowed as she gazes around the corner, “Someone heard me up here, now we must wait until they leave. Try not to give us away big guy.” Geo has a moment of that same feeling in his tank from earlier in the evening, but it is quickly replaced by a shiver as he remembers the circumstances. He can’t help but tremble as he tries to stay still and quiet as he crouches behind the obstruction. Shade removes her hand and returns it to her side.

Peeking over the top, he spots a resident of the building glancing around. They seem to be a sports car of some sort, but it’s hard to tell in the low light of the dark city canopy. Geo can barely make out a grimace as he ducks back down when the bot’s head turns in his direction. His sparkbeat quickens as the duo wait a tense few minutes before they hear footsteps echoing down stairs, the bot deciding it was nothing and going back inside. Shaderaider waits a few moments before signaling Geocache that he can move. He sighs in relief and goes to stand, but bangs his head on a pole, knocking it and other objects off the structure with a loud clatter. Immediately the pair hear footsteps swiftly coming back up the stairs.

“Oh slag.” He groans, his head fins pinned back as he prepares for a confrontation. I hope I can talk my way out of this, I’d really hate for there to be a fight. He takes a few deep breaths in an effort to calm himself for conversation as Shaderaider face palms. The same bot throws the door open and looks at them with an accusatory glare.

“What are you two doing here?” They bark with a scowl and crossed arms, tapping their foot.

“I-I’m so sorry to bother you sir, I’m just transporting cargo across town, expedited delivery, and I got drowsy so I flew too low and crashed into this.” He gestures at the mess on the floor, then looks at Shaderaider. “My friend here was supposed to talk to me to keep me awake, but she forgot. Again, I’m so sorry for disturbing you, I’ll just clean up the mess and we’ll be on our way.” He shakily explains with a clearly forced smile, as he nervously chuckles, waving his hands in front of him. The bot looks unimpressed, and turns to peer at Shade, who puts on a similar facade to Geo, nodding to confirm his story.

The bot looks suspiciously between the two, but after a moment shrugs and replies, “Okaaaay, but make it quick and get out of here before I change my mind about reporting you.” before turning on their heels and leaving. A moment of silence passes as the footsteps again fade out.

“Haaaaah,” Geo gasps, letting out a breath he’d been unknowingly holding, before quickly cleaning up the mess he’d made, still shaking. After he’s finished they move on to the next roof, where Shade then jumps and smacks him on the back of the head.

“What the PIT Geocache?! I told you to be quiet!” She scolds him with a growl. “Why can’t you follow simple instructions?!”

“I’m sorry! I tried, I just didn’t see those things there, and I talked our way out of it! Ack, I’m usually not this clumsy, it’s just this job is messing with my head.” He yelps as he rubs the back of his head, and then face palms. “I know I must be such a bother to you, but I assure you I’m not normally like this.” Geo sighs, dejected. Shaderaider looks at her companion as he fidgets with an annoyed stare, before a thoughtful look replaces it. After a moment, her face temporarily softens for just a second, before she rolls her eyes. She’d better get paid extra for putting up with these shenanigans.

“Fine, I accept your apology, but this can’t keep happening. Fortunately for the both of us, we’re only a couple blocks from our destination. If we can get that far without any more incidents, I won’t tell our employers of your incompetence. Deal?” She extends her hand. Geocache’s optics light up like tiny suns and he smiles as he shakes her hand.

“Deal!” He exclaims. Upon their deal, the pair transform and take off, the only sound being the noises of the street below, and their engines.

It’s just before sunrise when they arrive at the city limits. A figure is there to greet them with a pair of guards at their back.

“Ah, I see you arrived safely. Do you have the goods?” They prompt. Shaderaider and Geocache transform and step forward. Shade turns and gives Geo a look of ‘I got this.’ He simply nods and looks on.

Turning back she says, “Yes, we have the merchandise, as requested.” She lightly elbows Geo, who produces his cargo and gives it to his employer, saying nothing.

“Yes, good. You will receive your payment shortly. Good job, this usually takes our agents multiple solar cycles, but you two got it done in one night. I’m impressed.” They purr.

“T-Thank you.” Geocache mutters. Primus I’m being so unprofessional. This is the worst. He chastises himself. Just gotta get through this interaction, then I can go home and never think about this again.

He looks at Shade, who, for the first time that night, smiles as she fires back, “I do pride myself on my efficiency, it is my job after all.” Geo feels oddly warm at the sight of that smile.

“Of course, of course. You may go, Geocache, you were never here.” The bot says, lowering their voice for that last part.

“Of course. Goodbye Shaderaider.” He says before swiftly transforming and flying away, contemplating the night’s events.

[gogololo]

Over here with my Mandalorian OC like:

"Hey Boss?"

Teva blinked looking up from their desk, scattered with schematics and notes, a questionable amount of energy drinks within reach and lunch that still hadn't been touched despite being there for over an hour now.

In the doorway of their office stood one of the production team, overalls messy with dirt and grime, gloves in hand as he fidgeted with them.

It was odd to get a visit directly instead of being requested to come down to the facility floor.

"Yeah? What's up? Something break again?" They looked back to their data pad motioning for him to step in. He took a shaky breath before doing so, a motion not unnoticed by the mirialan on the couch.

"Uh no, everythings great, we're actually ahead of production currently which uh..which is part of why the team and I were wondering if we could maybe…knock off early? We have a thing we wanna go to-"

"We can't just close-" the woman on the couch protested before being interrupted by Tevas hand raising twords her and requesting a pause. Slowly the Mandalorian looked up, unhelmeted eyes locking with the production team members'.

"What's the thing? That y'all wanna go to?" This seemed to catch him off guard but the answer was genuine all the same even if he was sheepish about it.

"Well uh, doctor, there's this band. The Meat Droids-" Teva interrupted a bemused smile on their face as they leaned back in their chair.

"I know of them, keep going." again the words caught him off guard but he continued

"We found out they're playing a show tonight and we just wanted to make sure we had time to go ya know? And I get-"

"Yes." He looked shocked, eyes wide in confusion at the suddenness of their answer. At the same time he and the mirialan responded, her heels clicking on the tile floor as she sat up from her seat.

"What?"

"Teva you can't just-"

"On one condition." Once again they didn't hesitate to interrupt and they both paused to let the doctor speak a grin steadily growing on their face. "Send me the time and place. This is a team building event after all. Tell the crew to log their hours accordingly. MandalMotors is covering the tab."

There was a pause, like he wasn't sure if the engineer was serious before he matched their grin.

"Yes! I'll do that right away! Thank you so much!" He rushed out the door and they chuckled hearing his boots running down the hall.

"Teva." To anyone else she would have sounded disappointed, but after all these years the Mando knew it was amusement coloring her voice.

"What? Buir said I should do more team building stuff, this seemed like a perfect opportunity." Seeing the judgment in the others eyes they laughed and added "ok ok, also I want to go too. So, gather me up the paperwork so I can get it done and then we can knock off early too?"

"Of course Doctor, whatever you say."

@keldabekush