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It Will Heal

When Jaal's family is taken by the Roekaar, he asks Bridget to trust him. That's not the problem. Trusting Jaal is as easy as breathing. What isn't so easy is watching as a madman nearly kills the man who has stolen her heart.

AO3 Link

Bridget can’t think. She can’t breathe.

All she can think about is how horribly wrong things have gone.

When Jaal desperately begs for her aid, explaining that Akksul has recruited his siblings into the Roekaar, she agrees to help without hesitation.

When they come across said siblings on the battlefield, and they begin bearing down on her with insults, she tries her best to keep her cool. Even as they tower over her and spout that she’d be better off dead, she doesn’t retort. She doesn’t want to feed into Akksul’s poisonous beliefs about her kind.

Even when Lathoul is shot and tells them of the bombs that have been planted, she doesn’t lose her focus. She remains fixed on her goal.

It isn’t until they reach the Forge proper that things begin to spiral.          

Once they disarm the bombs, Teviint runs to Jaal, clinging to him like the scared child she is. “I killed Lathoul! I killed him. I’m so sorry.”

Bridget stares at her in concern. This girl can’t be more than a teenager, and yet Akksul is using her as a weapon, twisting her confusion into a tool for his hatred.

Jaal, however, is less sympathetic. He stares down at her coldly, not offering a hint of comfort. “He’s not dead. You’re lucky”

She looks up at him, her expression so lost and afraid. “I lost my mind, Jaal. I want to go home.”

“But the cause!” Baranjj protests. “I joined because of you!”

“I shot our brother,” Teviint counters, looking at him as though he grew a second head.

He looks down in uncertainty, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He seems just as scared and anxious as his sister. Looking back to her, he says, “Don’t leave me-”

“Let her go.” He is cut off by Akksul appearing from the shadows, stalking forward like a villain. “I only want soldiers who are committed to our cause.” His icy gaze turns to Bridget and Jaal and he sneers, “Not weaklings who stand by and watch the destruction of our people at the hands of aliens.”

More Roekaar filter in from the upper level of the Forge, their weapons all trained on their little group. Akksul stands proudly, assured in his upper hand.

Teviint seems to shrink back, hiding behind Jaal. Baranjj also tries to make himself smaller, pulling into himself. Bridget feels herself bristle in anger. “You recruit kids and make them fight their families,” she spits, glaring at the Roekaar leader. “It’s sick and so are you.”

Akksul seems unbothered by her accusations. Stepping forward, he says assuredly, “I speak for our people and I say you’re done in Heleus.”

He raises a hand to gesture towards Bridget and she instinctively lifts her rifle, aiming at him. Simultaneously, Jaal warns her not to, but Akksul is already grinning.

Chuckling maliciously, he leans into her personal space, the barrel of the gun pressing against his chest. “Martyr me.” He urges. “Please. I dare you.”

Bridget stares him down, hissing out an exhale. Jaal had asked her to trust him on this mission, to follow his lead. And killing Akksul certainly wouldn’t plead a great case for her, especially considering his followers still have their weapons trained on her.

Everything about him infuriates her. But she somehow remains calm.

“I made a promise to my friend that you’re making really hard to keep,” she growls.

His smile falls, and he stares at her in frustration for a long while before turning his attention back to his followers.

“They move onto our planets. They they take our resources, make us weak!”

“I’ve watched Ryder make planets habitable!” Jaal appeals to the angara, his voice impatient but resolute.

“Exactly!” Akksul retorts. “And they’ll never let us forget it.”

“She rescued your beloved Moshae!” Jaal interrupts, and it has the Roekaar leader pausing.

“I know,” he admits quietly, spurring his supporters to look at one another in uncertainty.

“Saved. Her. Life,” Jaal continues, his words punctuated and strong.

“I know, stop defending them!” Akksul says indignantly, beginning to sound like an annoyed child.

Not paying him any mind, Jaal attempts to keep going. “The Moshae trusts Ryder, and-”

“Stop.”

Akksul cuts him off by aiming his gun at Jaal, clearly threatened that he’s losing control of the situation.

Jaal looks at him warily, taking a half step back and raising his hands defensively.

“We’ve been fighting the wrong enemy,” Akksul rambles. “Maybe the enemy is this traitor!”

Lowering his hands, Jaal stares him down resolutely, muttering a quiet warning, “Easy…”

Panicked, Bridget raises her gun to Akksul once more, looking at her angaran companion in distress. “Jaal?”

She hates that her voice sounds so small.

God, what is she supposed to do here? Akksul is clearly crazy. He claims to want to protect the angara, but here he is threatening to kill one of his own. She’s not about to let him take Jaal’s life. And yet, as has already been established, shooting him is off the table, too…

“Don’t!” Jaal warns, sparing her a glance and a careful gesture, his eyes pleading with her. Trust me, they say.

She does. Of course she does. It’s Akksul she doesn’t trust.

Turning his full attention back to the man before him, Jaal’s gaze hardens. “The Moshae trusts Ryder. You’ve become a danger to your own people,” he utters lowly. “Walk away.”

Reason isn’t reaching Akksul, though. Gritting his teeth, he retorts, “Or…I kill you and reveal the Resistance for the traitors they are!”

He pulls the trigger and a sharp, panicked scream tears itself from Bridget’s throat. If everyone’s attention wasn’t focused on Akksul and Jaal, she’s sure she’d be getting looks for the anguished sound she just made. But that isn’t at the forefront of her mind right now.

Jaal’s dead. He’s dead and she did nothing to stop it. She’s trembling uncontrollably, her gun still pointed at Akksul, but she’s frozen in place.

She wants to kill him. Wants to make him pay for killing the man she was easily falling in love with. He deserves it. But as desperate as she feels right now, she made a promise to Jaal…and she’s not about to break it now.

A pained groan draws her attention and her gaze immediately snaps in its direction.

It can’t be…

Akksul missed. He was at point-blank range and he somehow managed to miss. The bullet grazed Jaal’s cheek, leaving a small, shallow cut in its place. Blood trickles down his face as he stares Akksul down unwaveringly.

Bridget wants to cry with relief. To hold him close and reaffirm that he’s okay. But she can’t quite get over the shock of thinking he was lost to her, no matter how brief.

Everyone gapes at the scene in utter awe and disbelief.

Jaal has commanded the attention of the entire Forge, and rightfully so.                

Akksul looks up at his followers, a lost, uncertain expression on his face. The Roekaar begin to filter out, shaking their heads in disgust as they do.

Staring Akksul down, Jaal carries a powerful weight to his gaze.

“The alien is not the monster here,” he declares with conviction.

Akksul does not answer right away. His focus is on the angara turning their backs on him. “I love my people…” he utters quietly, looking down in defeat.

Bridget believes it. Unfortunately, his heart has been poisoned and twisted beyond recognition. She wonders what he might have been like had he not been captured by the kett. Despite all the hurt he’s caused, she pities him in that moment.

 Jaal does not deign to respond to him, but he seems to come to the same conclusion as Bridget. After a long moment of staring at his former classmate, he turns to his siblings and says, “Come on…let’s get you home.”

Following quietly, Bridgets walks slightly behind him. She glances up at Jaal, noticing the trail of torn flesh that had been carved by the bullet, blue trickling lightly from the edges. She can’t believe how close he came to dying. Any closer to the right and he would have been gone from her life entirely. Hell, it’s a miracle the bullet didn’t hit his cowl either. She’s not terribly familiar with angaran anatomy, but she’s certain there must be vital blood vessels there.  The fact that he stands before her relatively unscathed is astronomical.

The blood that had begun pooling at the edge of his wound spills over slightly, running down his cheek. She reaches out, but stops short of touching him. “You okay…?”she asks quietly.

He spares her a glance before saying, “Yeah, thanks…” before letting out a strained grunt, a wince pulling at his lips.

They make there way back in relative silence. On the shuttle, Bridget can’t help but stare at Jaal the whole way, a sense of numbness overcoming her.

A bandage now rests over his injured cheek, but it didn’t make her feel any better.

He almost died. He almost died and she almost let it happen. Granted, she knows that shooting Akksul would have been a terrible idea, but she just can’t stop thinking about it. She cares about Jaal more than she ever thought possible. At this point, it’s more than a silly crush. Even though she knows he doesn’t return her feelings, the thought of losing him…Of never again getting to tease him about idioms or spend time working on projects together…It tears her heart apart.

She can feel Vetra’s eyes on her throughout the ride back, but her companion remains silent, for which she is grateful.

At some point, they land back where they started, Teviint apologizing to Lathoul and the mothers coming to reunite with their lost children. Jaal gently puts his hand on her shoulder and guides her to the side. She follows, her gaze still hollow and empty. She’s barely processed anything since Akksul fired his pistol.

“Thank you for trusting me,” Jaal tells her, looking out over the landscape. “Killing Akksul would have made the Roekaar stronger.”

He’s so calm. Too calm. Infuriatingly calm. He’d almost died for fuck’s sake!

It’s enough to snap Bridget out of her apathy. “He shot you,”she says, bitter.

“I’m glad he did. It exposed how far he’d fallen.”              

Even still, he remains composed and collected. He even smiles.

Bridget stares at him in disbelief. “Jaal, you were this close to dying back there! Do you have any idea how risky that was?!”

He has the audacity to chuckle at her and she bristles.

“It all worked out, didn’t it? A little risk was worth it, I’d say.”

She can’t believe it. Here she is, tearing herself apart with worry and he has the gall to think her reaction is amusing.

“You idiot!” she cries, banging her fist against his chest. “You think it’s funny that you almost had your brains blown out?” She hits him again, and he takes small steps back with each advance, staring down at her with wide, surprised eyes.

“Is your life that meaningless to you?” she continues, tears beginning to form. “Or am I just stupid for daring to care that I might lose you?!”

Bridget stops assaulting his chest, though her fists still rest there, trembling. Her gaze has fallen to the ground and she shuts her eyes tightly, the tears now falling freely. Her frame shakes as sobs begin to wrack her body.

He instantly pulls her close to him, cradling her in his embrace.

She does her best to suppress her crying, though it takes her a minute. The desperate kiss he presses against the crown of her head makes it even more difficult to pull herself together, but eventually, she calms down enough to speak.

“I was really worried…” she ends up whispering, her voice somewhat hoarse.

Jaal pulls back just enough to look her in the eyes. His expression is pained, his brows drawn together in worry. Gently, he lifts a hand to wipe her tears, his thumb drawing careful arcs across her cheek.

Carefully, he pulls her forehead to his, and they both close their eyes as they lean into each other. “It will heal,” he murmurs. “All scars do.”

She sniffles slightly, her arms pulling Jaal into as tight of a hug as she can, though his bulky torso makes it impossible for her embrace to completely encircle him.

“I apologize for worrying you…” he says quietly, one hand absently petting her hair.

She doesn’t respond, just pulls him even closer.

They stay like that for a long while, and when they do part, he makes sure to plant another feather light kiss atop her head.

Bridget looks up at him, her expression full of confusion and longing. He softly trails his hand down the side of her face. He stares at her for an achingly long time before clearing his throat and stepping back. She misses his warmth immediately.

“We should get back…” he says, looking back towards the others. “I want to say goodbye before my family heads home.”

Absently, she nods, watching as he heads over.

She tries not to focus on the kisses or the gentle touches. Jaal is a naturally affectionate person. He was just comforting her. It doesn’t mean anything more. Thinking that it might…that’s just setting herself up for more hurt. She doesn’t need to do that to herself.

At least he’s alive.  She can cling to that.

Sighing, she gradually makes her way back to the group.

She pushes her longing down. Far enough away where she can try to forget that he’s captured her heart so thoroughly.

——

So I haven't written anything in over 3 years...but I have an actual excuse this time. Long story short, cancer sucks. (Don't worry, I'm not in danger of dying, but having chronic pain the last few years honestly hasn't been much better...)

In any case, I've really missed writing and finally found the inspiration to finish this after starting it years ago. I have a few more projects I hope to work on, though I can't say how many more of them will be Andromeda related.

Am I Too Late?

[I post either once a week or 4 times in one day 🙃]

The prompt from @xentari94​ was this:

Hi! Omg I love your writing! ❤️ ^^ Could I request #1 on the first list with Cayde x Exo Female Gunslinger? One where she goes with Cayde to the prison and everything happens the same except this time she manages to get to him, and saves him from being shot.

Cayde-6 x (Exo) Female!Reader

Warnings: cursing, violence, angst/comfort

1,718 words

“Any second now, my partner is gonna roll in here and kill… every… Last… One of you.”

It wasn’t a prison riot. It was a prison break.

Continua a leggere

“Long ago, Airachnid was with the Decepticons, where her cruel, cold-sparked, murderous demeanor served her well. After the Great Exodus of Cybertron, however, she decided to go solo. These days, Airachnid spends her time engaging in her new hobby: collectingendangered species… well, parts of endangered species, mostly the heads. Now, if a species isn’t endangered? Oh, they will be. She’ll make sure of that, and she’ll make sure it’s a slow, painful process.

Less trustworthy than even Starscream, she is more than willing to kill her own men or leave her commanding officers behind if it means getting what she wants. The pain and trauma she had inflicted on Arcee, from said Autobot’s torture to the brutal execution ofher partner, have given them a vicious, bitter history, and both will stop at nothing to kill each other. She also has the ability to control Insecticons.”

a small Guardian x Crow ficlet, inspired by me having consecutive nightmares for way too long now 😩

Crow was... running. The reality was loose under his feet and kept changing directions. But he knew he had to keep going, forward and forward.

Until he ran into the Guardian, whose face, contorted with anger, scared him. And he didn't know how to keep that fear down, so he screamed and screamed and screamed and waited until his screaming made his voice nothing but a hoarse echo.

And then he woke up.

His fingers grip onto the blankets, feeling the warmth of the fabric, the tight folds. His heart is pounding in his chest, trying to run away. Trying to make him run away.

The Guardian sits up beside him, and Crow flinches. His throat still hurts from screaming, even if he didn't utter a sound.

They ask him if he is alright.

"I... You are not mad at me, are you?"

They smile at him and shake their head. A resolution so clear, it wipes away some of the fear.

"Another nightmare," Crow mutters, rubbing his sleepy eyes, trying to make the burning tears in the corners of his eyes go away, unbidden. He is so tired.

As the Guardian guides him into their arms, Crow counts the lights outside the window. He feels for the fabric, and then for the Guardian's body. He feels the smell of them both, of their home. His mouth tastes with anxious acid.

But his heart slows down and reality sets in with a kinder sensation around him.

He doesn't need to run. He doesn't need to scream.

The Guardian kisses his forehead as Crow nestles within their embrace. He is not sure he wants to sleep just yet, so he wraps himself in the comfort of being held and reassured.

Maybe tomorrow those dreams will not find him again.

Cayde-6 fanfic request incoming beep beep

Y/N (female) comes back to Cayde-6 after running like 4 raids in a day, absolutely tired, and Cayde just scoops her up, gives her something to eat and takes her somewhere to sleep (possibly dragging Cayde along. He is not escaping the cuddles)

Thank you in advance :)

Thank you so much for the request, anon!!!

Hopefully this is what you had in mind, I had a lot of fun with this one. <3

I Know Places

Cayde-6 x fem!Reader

One Shot.

Description: Okay so this is set in post Red War era before everything goes to shit. Just fluffy stuff. Also you’re a hunter, so, sorry titans/warlocks.

Today wasn’t even supposed to be that bad.

A raid, maybe a round of Gambit if you felt like it.

And of course, after all the shit you’ve been through in the last few months, it was anything but.

One raid turned into four, which were chock full of all kinds of fallen, hive, and cabal that were particularly hell-bent on putting you in the dirt.

Every inch of your body is sore as you exit your ship, grunting as each step you take sends painful shocks running up your legs.

You pull the hood of your cloak off, tugging your helmet off and running your hands through your messy hair.

Your plans for the night consist of eating something as fast as you can and then crashing into bed. That’s before you hear a familiar, very chipper voice behind you.

It’s not that you don’t like him. Quite the opposite. Cayde’s your vanguard, your boss, in simpler terms. Which is exactly why being around him is so hard when you like him as much as you do.

Too much.

You turn around, too tired to force the small off your face that appears when you see him.

“Hey, darlin’!” He calls out to you, jogging to catch up with you. That’s the other issue you have with Cayde-6.

It’s getting difficult to pretend you don’t like it when he flirts with you. Which he does.

A lot.

“Hey, six.” You try to sound at least half awake when you respond, clearly failing when a small laugh bubbles up from his chest.

“Long day?” He asks, toning his voice down a bit. If he was being honest, he was excited to see you.

He always is.

What might seem like some playful flirting to you is so much more to him. He’s just too damn scared to take it further.

Plus, you’re the best guardian this tower’s got. Not the type to date your vanguard.

Cayde curses that fact everyday.

You snap him out of his self-pitying thoughts with an exhausted response.

“You’ve got no idea.” You groan, rubbing the back of your neck.

What he’s thinking right now is how much he misses feeling like you do right now. Exhausted yet satisfied after a long day out there, defending the city, doing what feels like a real job.

Although, he doesn’t say that. He figures it’d probably just piss you off at this point.

Besides, you’ve helped sneak him out of the tower enough times to exempt you from listening to his whining about being cooped up all day.

He still remembers what he always used to do after days like this, it was nice. Relaxing.

Something he thinks you’d like.

He’s taking your hand in his before you can protest, dragging you off to God knows where.

You sigh, trying your best to ignore the shock that runs up your arm when his hand grasps yours.

It feels right.

And yet, you know you can’t let yourself think like this. Think about him like this.

You can’t be more than what you already are. Zavala still scolds the two of you with a less than subtle reminder of your difference in ranking every time he catches the Cayde flirting with you in the hangar.

And you doing it right back.

You used to try to maintain some professionalism at first.

That ended pretty quick.

Since the second you walked into the tower after being revived, you and Cayde have been playing a long lasting game of cat and mouse.

At first it was simple attraction. You’re gorgeous, he noticed, and in his usual fashion, he pursued.

That also ended pretty quick.

It morphed into something different. A sort of comfort you found in eachother. For him, you were everything he missed about being a guardian in a person.

Spontaneous, witty, brave, wild, quick on your feet and quicker with your words.

And for you?

Cayde was a break. A break from feeling like the entirety of the Last City rests on your shoulders.

Since your first day as a guardian, everybody acted like you were supposed to know what you were doing.

Everybody but Cayde.

It was even worse because you’re as good as you are. Once the Vanguard realized they could rely on you, you’ve been their personal work-horse. Any job, any threat, anything at all. You’re the one to call.

But when you’re with Cayde, in the moments like these, you feel like a normal person. At least for a little while.

Whether it’s sneaking out of the tower in the middle of the night or just spending time with him in the hangar, he’s a solace.

He looks at you like more than just a means to an end. The quickest way to get a job done.

He likes you for who you are, not just what you’re capable of.

More than likes you, although, you don’t know that yet.

He quickly leads you through the tower, through some hallways, and onto a high ledge overlooking the courtyard.

And God, it’s beautiful.

The sky is painted a million different shades of orange as the sun sets, casting shadows over the thousands of pine trees that lay under the tower.

You’ve never seen it from this high up, and you follow readily when Cayde beckons you to sit next to him, feet dangling over the edge of the concrete.

You slowly sit down, wincing as your body burns with the movement.

It’s quiet for a little while, a rarity when it comes to Cayde.

He lifts his arm a bit hesitantly, laying it over your shoulders. He rubs your arm slowly, dissipating any chill from the crisp fall air.

“Hell of a view, huh?” His voice is lower than normal as he interrupts the silence.

It might just be your favorite sound.

You slowly loosen up, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Yeah, it is…thank you.” You whisper back, trying to soak up the moment as much as you can.

Nobody around to watch and point. Gossip about the Vanguard and his favorite hunter.

It’s one of the few times you don’t have to pretend this is nothing.

That all the flirting, the midnight escapades, the dirty jokes he whispers to you during meetings just to see you blush.

It’s all more than what it seems.

And you…

You mean more to him than you could ever really know.

“Course, sweetheart” The petname slips from his mouth so casually, like it’s the most normal thing on the planet.

And really, it is.

The two of you know you love each other. You don’t need to say a word.

“Y’know, you should give yourself a break every once in a while.” He suggests lightly, already knowing what you’ll say in response.

You laugh a bit, shaking your weary head. “I can’t.”

Bingo.

He knows you a little too well.

“What if I order you to?” Cayde nudges you lightly, forcing himself not to close the gap between the two of you when you look up at him.

Your head still rests on his shoulder, and your eyes are illuminated by the moonlight casting down on the two of you.

“I’ll ignore you.” You quip back, a small smirk on your lips.

The sight of you knocks the wind out of him.

You’re beautiful in a way he’s not nearly artful enough to describe.

“I’ll fire you.” He threatens with sarcasm lacing his words.

You really laugh at that one, leaning into his body further. He’s warm, and comfortable, and you’re exhausted.

Plus, you’ll take the excuse to be close to him.

“I’m you’re favorite and we both know it. You could never fire me.” You answer cockily.

You’re right. He already hates being stuck in the tower enough. If you weren’t there to keep him company he’d probably have gone awol by now.

“Yeah…yeah, you are.” He laughs as he speaks, and he means for it to sound like a joke. But, there’s a sincerity there.

One you both know the meaning of.

One you catch even as you drift off to sleep, practically laying on his chest at this point.

And yet, you don’t need to say anything about it. Not now.

Not quite yet.

For now, you can stay like this.

Together, with your wordless agreement that neither of you have to acknowledge that this is more than friendship.

More than a mutual crush, too.

And instead of the entire universe and all it’s problems, you can be his for the night.

A/N: Okay so, I got a little carried away (obviously), but I still hope y’all enjoyed. And thank you once again for the request, anon! After my last series, writing some super fluffy fluffiness is a nice break.

If you guys have any more requests for any characters I write for (you can find the list in my ask box) please drop them in! I really love doing these <3

- di

Sugar Bomb

Pairing: Findlay 'Hazard' Docherty x Fem!Reader

Description: After months of dancing around each other, you and Hazard come to one last draw before your inevitable departure.

[3.7 k words]

Chapter 7

Early February morning, the snow has partly melted by now. Out on the second-story balcony, the vapor coming from your coffee isn’t the only visible steam. Your breath is as well, it comes out in puffs before rising above your head and dissipating.

The air is crisp and refreshing, the sky is clear and the sun is shining brightly. For a moment, you close your eyes and let the rays warm your frozen, runny nose.

The coffee mug is scalding against your chest, it’s comforting, brings you solace and helps you think clearly about the conversation that is to come. You rest against the railing of the balcony, taking in the city beyond, Maisie is sniffling at your feet, already walked and fed because that’s the first thing you do in the morning, even before showering.

Your feet are cold despite the thick woolen socks and slippers you have on. You think it is what it is and decide to just live with it, your extremities have always been cold during the winter.

The sliding door behind you opens and you look back to see Findlay’s disheveled form standing there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He yawns and stretches, the thick muscles under his tank top flexing and expanding, it’s a sight to behold for sure, but sadly you won’t be a witness to it for much longer. And he’s never cold, a part of you has always been jealous of that trait of his.

“Hey.” You call softly, voice still heavy with sleep. You keep your eyes on him for a bit longer before turning them back to the city.

“Ey.” He responds in kind and comes to your side, your elbows collide when he leans on the railing next to you, following your gaze towards the cluster of skyscrapers in the distance. There’s a brief moment of silence before he asks. “Is everything a’right? Ah didn’t expect you leavin’ a note f’ me out of all people.”

You take your time sipping coffee before speaking up again.

“Yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean to worry you. Just wanted to talk in private.”

Deep, steady breath and a calm mind were how you were going to get through this encounter. You just had to stay level-headed, that’s all, be friendly but keep him at arm’s length, for both your sakes.

“Was this about?” He doesn’t even seem bothered that stray snowflakes are falling on his bare shoulders, meanwhile, you’re shaking, but whether that’s from the cold or from anxiety is uncertain.

You take a breath, then another, then finally manage to string together the words.

“I found a place.” You begin and glance at him anxiously. “Y’know, to move into and finally stop being a freeloader here.” He doesn’t react and you take it as a bad sign so you continue, trying to lighten the already heavy atmosphere. “It’s already furnished so I won’t be stealing any of your things.”

“You can take wha’ever you wont, you know I don’t care.” He rasps, you hear the strain surging in his voice, the pebble stuck in his throat, the weight suddenly pressing down on his chest, a weight you had just put there. “You can take the whole place wi’cha, if y’ wanted. Still won’t care.”

“Fin…”

“Why?” You stiffen at his question, the rawness of his tone, the betrayal he’s trying to hide but is still so visible in those honeyed eyes you’ve come to love. It’s painful to watch him at a loss, not knowing how to combat your decision and ultimately having to let you go.

He looks like he’s been slapped.

You’d been preparing for this talk for days and it was hard for you, you couldn’t imagine what it was like for him. But you were set on your words, you couldn’t stay any longer, you didn’t want to.

“Because – ”

“ – Is someone botherin’ you?” He finally turns to face you. “Did someone do someth’n t’ you? Y’ can tell me, I always listen.”

“No, it’s not that.” You avert your eyes and stare into the blackness of your coffee instead, trying to find the right words in the murky caffeinated water. “Of course, nobody’s done anything, I love you all like family.”

A breeze blows past and manages to force a shiver up your spine. His first thought was to take you in his arms and bade the cold away, but just as abruptly as his hands lifted to reach for you, they fell back to his sides.

You wanted to cry… protest and have him continue, tell you that everything was going to be okay and that he’d take care of things like he always did. But now wasn’t the time for weakness. Because the hug would end, then he’d ruffle your hair and leave, nothing more. He wouldn’t hold you like a lover but like a sibling, a friend.

And you didn’t want to leave. You had to.

“Wot is it then? Yer room? Too small?” He asks abruptly, wracking his brain and trying to figure out your reasoning while simultaneously coming up with solutions. Anything to keep you from leaving him. He couldn’t bear the thought, not after everything. He’d move with you if it weren’t for his family depending on him, he didn’t care where in the world he was as long as it was with you. “You can have mine, Ah don’t care.”

You shake your head and his world shatters a little bit more.

“No. Fin, please listen to me.”

“Why den? Why leave?” He’s at a loss, completely forgetting that you can speak for yourself and he doesn’t need to play a guessing game. So he goes quiet and stares at you pleadingly, ignoring the ache in his chest and focusing solely on you.

“Please…Please, tell me what’s wrong…”

You take one last stressed sip of your coffee and set it down before turning to him properly, no longer leaning on the railing but instead facing each other in your full stature.

He at least deserved a proper reason and to look him in the eyes when you giving it.

“Because it’s not right to stay.” You say, then motion towards your chest as your brows knit together, an angsty expression bittering your features. “I don’t benefit you guys in any way. The best I can do is make food and clean up, help you with some tasks and run errands. I don’t fit in here. I’m not phreak, I don’t have any skills.”

Even in dire moments like these, you’re still so pretty to him. His little angel…

The way the sunrays cascade over your form, giving you an otherworldly glow, it takes his breath away and balms over his turbulent feelings and racing thoughts.

You always did have a way of soothing him. Soft words and gentle touches, that’s how you were, those are some of the many things that made you perfect in his eyes. Always caring for others, especially him who’s been alone in shouldering the unfairness of the world for so long.

“That never mattered.” He shoots back with confidence this time because it’s true. You’ve been a vital part of their team since you first came to join them. It didn’t matter that you weren’t a skilled hacker or couldn’t shoot a gun. Civilians had their own set of irreplaceable skills. Even if all you wanted to do was be Maisie’s sitter, you’d still be doing more than enough. “We all love you, we do. Couldn’t have made it dis far without ya.”

“Findlay…”

Why did he have to fight back so hard? Why couldn’t he just make things easy on you? You were already suffering with regret and the agony of separation before you’d even left, and seeing him this desperate, this sincere in trying to keep you from slipping away was just adding salt to the wound.

You wanted to hug him close and coo at him until he was calmed, tell him that this wasn’t goodbye forever. You’d come to visit, have dinners as a family again, take walks with Maisie and him, just the three of you. You just wouldn’t be constantly around.

That’s all. It wasn’t that serious, you weren’t moving to another city.

“So is not just tha’ then.” He scoffs to himself, rips his eyes off you to stare into nothingness. “Someone did do somethin’.” There’s a brief pause before his gaze rises again to meet yours, you see the bleak fire within it, still the combative spirit persists, refuses to let you go without a good tussle. “Tell me who, I’ll have a talk with ‘em, can resolve this right now.”

“No…” you rub at your eyes to massage away the tears.

You couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t.

It wasn’t his fault, it was yours. You’d fallen for him, not the other way around.

“What then? Why d’ ya wanna leave so badly?” His anguished, sullen words are like razors to your neck. You can’t breathe properly anymore. The sobs are beating down on your throat and you can’t fight them off for much longer.

“I – ”

“ – Don’ leave.” He says, begs you as much as a man of his character and ssize can. Your knees weaken at his pleads and you bite down viciously on your bottom lip to keep from breaking down completely. “You cannae leave me. Won’t let you.” He takes your hands in his, sucks in a long inhale and pulls you a bit closer, shielding you from the glare of the sun, from the cold, from the world, everything. “Please. Stay.”

You’re crumbling in front of him as he stands there silently and lets you speak. Mentally drained and emotionally at the brink, yet you refuse to let go of his hands and that’s enough to tell him that you don’t want to leave, but something is making you. And the worst part is that you refuse to tell him to keep him unburdened while you take on all of the weight and try to carry it away with you silently.

A part of him is enraged by this. How dare you try to take all the blame and let him demonize you for simply wanting to abandon him? How dare you take his job of carrying the hefty loads? He was the strong one, he was the tank, he was the shield that was supposed to separate you from all danger and problems.

He’d failed you…

He couldn’t stand it…

“I just…I can’t do this anymore, Fin.”

His thoughts come to a screeching halt.

“Do wha’?”

“This!” You let go of one of him long enough to motion between the two of you. “Whatever this is, whatever we are. I just… I can’t…”

He’s almost relieved to hear you confess your woes finally.

“Tha’s it?” He quirks a brow and you see the strain in his shoulders vanish. “Okey, aye I get it.” He rubs at the stubble on his chin, presumably in thought, but not really. The answer to your problem was right there. “I’s no problem. I’ll leave ya alone. Won’t hear a peep from me.” Despite the rejection that had been thrown in his face, he smiles wide. If this meant keeping you, he was willing to sacrifice. “Should’a said something earlier, lass. I just thought you – ”

“ – No!” You protest, yell nearly loud enough to wake up everyone still asleep. You want to rip your hair out with how exasperatingly daft he is. “You don’t get it!” You grip the straps of his tanktop, then tear your hands away from him only to hug yourself out of frustration. “I want – I – ”

This is the perfect moment, but again you’re left with a lump at the base of your mouth, a lock on your tongue, unable to speak the words. Beyond desperate to explain, you do the only other thing you can think of, you act before your self-sabotaging mind has a chance to talk you out of it.

You kiss him.

Stand high on your toes, pull him down by the neck, and link your lips to his. It’s a brief kiss, a sloppy and uncoordinated one, your mouths don’t even fit together properly.

Gasping for air, you pull away as abruptly as you’d leaned in and search his eyes for anything to hint at rejection.

He’d not done anything when you’d locked lips, hadn’t reeled back, but hadn’t reciprocated either so you were left in a standstill until he made up his mind.

He stares at you dumbly with his mouth agape and eyes wide and unblinking.

A minute passes and the doubt is already munching at your sanity. However, then you’re unceremoniously picked up and hoisted against his broad chest. He guides your legs to wrap around his toned torso, has your arms locked around his neck and mapping out what skin you can reach as he molds his lips back to yours. You feel your back being gently pressed into a wall to make sure you had support on both ends.

A meek mewl slips past you and his reply is a pleased grunt as he rubs needy patterns into your thighs.

He pushes his tongue past your teeth and twirls it around yours, beckoning you to play. The muffled moan that erupts from you is music to his ears, a noise unparalleled by anything he’s ever heard in his life. He presses harder against you, squishing you between his warm chest and the cold wall behind so there’s nowhere for you to run anymore. This was it, you were stuck with him now.

No more running, no more denying, no more beating around the bush.

He was certain now that you wanted him as much as he’d wanted you and he’d not let anything stand between you anymore.

And to think this was why you’d wanted to leave…

His baby stubble grazes your skin deliciously, a single compliment from you months ago and he’d started keeping it instead of shaving it off every morning.

He kisses you with suffocating need, bruising your lips and making them swell as he nips and licks and tastes, and explores every inch of your mouth. He indulges himself, gives into you like you’re a peace of Heaven on Earth, a sinful delight that’s been dangling before him for months, just out of reach.

The skin on his back ripples to life under your touch, awakens into eager goosebumps that you ghost over with flattened palms. You cross your ankles over his waist, your toes curling in delight the longer he smothers your mouth with his own.

A thin trail of saliva still connects you when Hazard pulls away long enough to take a breath before diving for your neck. You lean your head back willingly, rest your crown against the cement wall and crane your neck to the side to give him more room to explore. Your thighs begin to quiver when you feel his sharp canines grazing over your sensitive skin. His tongue works wonders into your flesh, makes you both giggle and choke on moans, completely forgetting about the cold or the exposure.

“Findlay…” You wail weakly, then gasp when he automatically bucks into you, spurred on by the call of his name. Sparks fly behind your lids and you rake your nails over his shoulders, riling him up even more.

“Shite…” He groans and struggles for air as his grip on your legs tightens. “Don’t do tha’, luv.”

“Why?” You question dumbly, too drunk on him to truly care for the answer. All you want is to keep feeling him, keep hearing his voice, and smelling his scent.

“Makes me go wild.”

You laugh out an apology, note the grin, the widest one you’ve ever seen, listen to him pant heavily through his nose and rest his forehead against your collarbones as he comes down from his high.

“I love you…” You blurt out and thump a fist weakly against his back. Your legs untangle from his waist without your consent, but every muscle in your body has turned to jello and you’re given no choice. You’ve turned to mush in his brutish embrace and you’d have it no other way. “You moron…I love you so much…”

It comes out so easily now like you’ve been saying it forever. It’s smooth on your tongue, feels right, deserved.

“I thought..” He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief and the tips of his hair tickle your nose.

“You thought wrong.” You’re all too eager to interject, cutting off whatever idiotic, self-detrimental bullshit he was about to spit out.

Hazard brings his gaze away from the soft comfort of your sweater, and watches you from beneath his brows as the passion darkening his features morphs into the gentlest love. He readjusts, gives you a bit more movement space, but has no intention of letting you go. His hands are still palming at your legs, you can feel the heat coming off them and seeping over your skin even through the thick leggings hugging your thighs.

“Cannae blame me.” He says softly, words only meant for your ears. And despite the twinge of a joking tone, you know he’s serious, that he doesn’t think very highly of himself in terms of appearance. “Who’d wanna wake up t’ this ugly mug every mornin’.?”

It’s sad to think he’s been denying you and himself for so long because of self-doubt, thinking that you deserve better, that you should find better. Someone who has a stable life, can provide you with comfort instead of dragging you into a war and offer you a safe and calm life. Someone who didn’t have half his body replaced by cybernetics, a man fully human who wasn’t littered with battle scars.

“I would.” You combat tenderly and glide your hands down until they’re resting over the steady beat of his heart. “I want this.” You tap his forehead next. “And this. Everything that’s you, I want, Fin.”

“Don’t deserve a pre’y bird like you.”

It’s a compliment for you and an insult towards him, it’s unbearable to hear such bitter-sweetness. You press the cushions of your thumbs against his lips to shush him.

“None of that, please.”

He kisses you then, having forgotten for a moment that now he was free to do that whenever he wanted. The puppy love flares, lashes out, needing more of your essence on him. He wanted to have a piece of you always with him, hell, he’d carry you around in his pocket if that was an option, show you off to anyone who crossed his path.

You smile in contentment against him, cling to him with one arm as your free hand travels up to comb through the soft tuft of hair you’d helped him bleach not too long ago.

Serenity isn’t something you take lightly, you know it’s a gift to feel at peace, and he’s brought you so much of that this morning. You caress his cheek, both look over and trace his features with the tips of your fingers, committing every dip and line to memory.

He stands still for you, closes his eyes, and leans into your touch like a man who’s never been touched with tenderness before, never been handled with care.

Your very own hazardous beast turned pet by a drop of affection. It was as cute as it was tragic.

He deserved so much more. He deserved the world.

“Whenever we were together.” You begin, drawing his attention from studying your kiss-bruised lips to your eyes where he lets himself get lost. You shake your head at the confession, nearly cringing, but it was only natural, for which couple didn’t have their cringe-worthy moments? “Outside that is, running errands. I’d always watch you closely to see which women you’d look at. Wanted to know what you fancied.” It’s a silly little confession, but you want him to know, you want him to know everything about you, be your lager of sorts and from the way he’s focused all his concentration on you, you can tell he’s more than willing to be put to the task. So a smile etches itself onto your winter-chilled features and you continue. “But you never looked at anyone…I had to guess what you liked.”

The answer is simple in his mind, he spits it out without even having to think it through.

“Da’s cuz I only got eyes fer you, daftie.” He shrugs as if his words didn’t melt your core and nearly give you baby fever. “Don’t need ta be lookin’ at other birds.”

It’s been such a long game of denial and restraint and now that all cards have been laid face up on the table, you’re not sure what follows. You didn’t expect things to turn out as they did, the bags in your room were ready for departure, you’d thought this morning would be goodbye.

You kick your feet nonchalantly, still propped up several feet above the floor. He holds you as if you weigh nothing and compared to his usual load, you probably don’t.

“What do we do now?” Is the only thing you can muster to ask next, looking to Hazard for guidance as if he wasn’t just as lost as you were.

Mischief twinkles in his honeyed orbs, a certain thought pulls a smirk onto his lips before he answers:

“Shag.”

“Findlay!” You exclaim. You’re mortified while he just laughs. Anticipation makes your skin tingle. The image of peeling off his clothes and witnessing everything you’ve only dreamed of is both nerve-wracking and enticing. But his choice of words couldn’t have been more unattractive, he went straight to the point though.

“I don’t shag.” You say and cup his face gently, rub your thumbs over his cheeks and smooth down his cocky smirk. You make sure to catch his eyes and draw his attention out of its bubble of lewd images. “I make love.”

He blinks blankly at that, processing your statement, before showering you with suffocating pecks. He leaves no surface untended in his kiss crusade. You fight him off weakly, turning your head this way and that, eyes squinted shut at his loving assault.

His excitement is unmatched, he’s like a pup at a pet store.

When he’s satisfied with his work and you’re left visibly breathless, he pulls back.

“Le’s get some breakfast first doe, ‘m starvin’.”

<<< Chapter 6

Masterlist

Hi! I have a request for you! How would Hanzo and Genji's noodles act around their S/Os?

>.< LOVE ME SOME SHIMADA NOODLES!!!!!

(By the way, I imagine Genji’s dragon to be a girl? Idk why)

Hanzo:

When the two of you started dating

The noodles were so confused

For one, they are not used to Hanzo smiling

Nor the emotions that you stirred within the older Shimada

For another…You scared them the first time you met them

The first thing you did was pick one up, hold it to your chest like a puppy and you scratched under its chin

At first they nipped and wiggled, unused to such affection

Yet you would still hug them, snuggle them…

You’d feed them treats Hanzo would NEVER ever ever let them have

Like bacon, or little chocolate pieces, or little bits of meat from your dinner plate during supper

Hanzo is worried you’re going to make them fat, honestly, and that they’ll someday look like one of those pudgy cats that have to be rolled around because they can’t get up

Love for you starts blossoming pretty fast

It isn’t hard to see why their master loves you

They are so used to you now that they will lift their heads when they hear your name

They will run into your arms if you call them

They are now very protective of you

And one of them knows how to shake a claw for treats :) the other learned the potato-jutsu (flops on floor and sulks till treat is received)

Hanzo is glad the noodles have taken to you, but he had no doubt they would either way

Genji:

Soba was really sulky when Genji first introduced you

She’s not used to having to share Genji

Genji has this little cat bed in his room for her

She just turns away when you crouch in front of her

When you don’t go away, she turns and gives you a grumpy blep, her tongue sticking out cutely

Immediately you blep right back at her

And for a moment, Soba is so startled

Except immediately, just because of the blep, you fascinate her

Genji has gone to grab some snacks, and when he comes back he nearly drops them

Your sitting on the bed with Soba curled up in your lap, her tongue out a bit as you pet her

You’ve already found so many of her sweet spots, the places she loves to get a good scratch the most

Soba makes you think of a puppy

Now she goes with you two whenever you leave the house

While she’s still jealous over her master, she’s okay with sharing him with you and Zenyatta. 

Also adores you. Likes to curl up around your neck when you guys are out walking

You always sneak her pieces of chicken

You’re the only person who’ll let her sleep in the bed

She likes to smoosh between you and Genji’s bodies in the bed, not because she doesn’t want you two touching but because you are both soooooo warm

You like playing with her and a laser pointer

"Take it easy out there, will ya? You’re making me look bad." >"What, may we ask, were you going to do with a Vex teleporter?" "Get up close and personal with Ghaul, Put a bullet in his head. The maybe eat a sandwich. Gotta work on a few kinks first. Fun fact about Vex tech; not as intuitive as you would think." >"Cayde, you can’t do this alone." "The hell I can’t." - Cayde-6 to Ghost

“Meet me at the bar. I’m buying.”

A bit spoilery…. kind of…. Not sure how to tag this since it is kinda dark so… yeah