Jack Abbot x gn!reader
WC: 428
After a long shift, all Jack wants is some silence
Warnings: None
Written for @monthlywritingchallenges Golden Hour Challenge - Day 13 - Shared Silence - ☀️
Rain taps a violent rhythm against the window, thunder rumbles quietly on the other side of the city. Outside, the streets of Pittsburgh are emptier than normal, people fleeing for safety wherever they can. You glance out, biting your lip. Somewhere out there, is your man. If he doesn’t leave the hospital soon, he may have to take a canoe home rather than the subway. Your phone chimes, the sound fighting with the rain for your attention.
“Working late. All this rain has injuries flooding in.”
You laugh at his pun and text him back a thumbs up.
“Well, he’s working late, so what should be do?” You ask the dog curled up in his bed.
Otter lifts his head, looking at you with bright eyes, and barks just once.
You nod, “Yes, of course, that’s a great idea.”
He settles again as you reach for the remote. The TV lights up the living room before shifting to a more muted setting. The couch shifts beneath you, cushioning you as you curl up. You tug the blanket off the back, draping it over you, as Otter looks at you, a considering light in his eyes.
“Don’t even think about it. You have a perfectly good bed all to yourself.”
He chuffs and turns so his back is to you. A moment later, you’re asleep, lulled by the now gentle rain and the soft sounds of the TV.
That’s how he finds you, hours later, when he finally makes it home. He pauses in the doorway, watching you breath for a moment, the pounding headache easing slightly. Otter looks up when he dislodges his backpack, but he goes right back to sleep. His rain-soaked jacket joins his backpack, and then his shoes.
Carefully, he lifts the blanket, slipping underneath. You stir as he wraps around you, tucking his face into your chest. You look down, bleary eyed and not quite awake. At the sight of Jack’s soft grey curls you smile. He nuzzles into you when you run your fingertips through his hair.
There’s a million ways to say I missed you, I love you, but one of Jack’s favorite’s is silence shared. It was a long day at the hospital, too many patients to think about. His stress had culminated in a headache he spent the last several hours fighting. But here with you all of it drifts away, leaving him feeling relaxed for the first time that day.
Otter looks up at his two humans and then lays his head back down, content to share this silence.
"It's ground tea leaves. And coffee is ground beans. Your point?" Connor challenged.
Tina and Chris sighed. World-champion barista Gavin Reed versus prestigiously trained matcha artist Connor Stern. They had passion for their craft, but hatred for each other.
"The fuck are you doing here?" Gavin asked sharply.
"My brother fixed your tablet," Connor said. "Here."
"Oh."
Gavin hesitated. Should he say thank you? He honestly felt bad about the last incident.
"Tha—"
"I'd better leave before your low-grade coffee ruins my mood," Connor remarked.
Gavin glared. That's it. He'd never thank this asshole.
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a/n: from my reed800 coffee shop AU ficverse, Matcha Latte. also, poor Tina and Chris. XD
<< Day 5: Doctor | Disaster
>> Day 7: Hybrid | Fiasco
The Drabble Challenge by @thedrabblecollective
Misadventure May by @monthlywritingchallenges
The problem with leaving the TVA for good was that Mobius went from being surrounded by people the majority of the time to having no one. It was fine while he was a bit of a nomad; there was purpose behind the loneliness. But now that he had chosen his new home, the absence of people started to make something in his brain itch.
Getting into his second-hand SUV and going for a drive didn’t help. Mobius couldn’t convince himself that he wasn’t craving the presence of people like he seemed to be able to during that week-long drive from Cleveland, Ohio. And, he supposed, he had still been around people when he hit rest stops and checked into various motels and hotels along the way.
Which meant, inevitably, Mobius would give in to the fact that aimless driving wasn’t going to help him outrun the feeling, and he would need to face it head-on.
That’s how he found himself in the little coffee shop downtown.
There were never options at the TVA aside from cream and sugar when it came to caffienation that wasn’t Josta. Mobius had been a little overwhelmed by the options, and probably sounded like it was his first day on Earth when asking what they were. At least the green-haired woman working the register didn’t seem to mind.
Mobius had chosen a latte and a tart that was apparently from the local bakery. He ordered it to stay, chose a seat in the corner by the window, and people watched.
The cafe wasn’t busy, the lull between lunch and the commute home making him one of only two customers that stuck around. It had been a while before anyone even came in for something to go.
The music was soft, instrumental, tickling his brain as if to tell him he’d heard a different version of the song on the radio. The barista wasn’t currently at the counter, but instead somewhere in the back, possibly doing dishes or checking stock. He supposed it didn’t matter; the chime that sounds when the door opens is probably enough to bring her out when someone comes in.
Outside, there’s a light drizzle. Enough that there are a few scattered umbrellas, but it wasn't so wet that people were trying to stick close to buildings or were hurrying their journey. Traffic was light despite it being Main Street, most people still at work or having parked in a lot a little ways away and going on foot from there, as Mobius had.
It was peaceful. Quiet. Alien in that Mobius had only ever experienced something similar in the archives or the library of the TVA, never the bullpen. And even then, those silences weren’t peaceful but almost oppressive.
That was something Mobius vaguely reflected on now, the thought loose enough that he could be distracted from it, but not so fleeting that it didn’t hold his focus in the now. The idea that there was urgency at the TVA to go out, prune, get a case solved as soon as possible, and yet they were supposedly outside of time. They could go to any point in time, and yet everything had to be done now.
There was no rush in this new life he was living. Maybe that would get old after a bit, maybe Mobius could learn to adapt. Honor Loki with just a hint of the hedonism that had carried the god through his life on the timeline.
He could start with this tart. Far too sweet for Loki’s taste, but it was buttery and a little chewy with nuts and raisins. So, not out of the realm of possibility for the god to have been willing to try, but likely not to be a winner. Still, if he was out there somewhere, he’d probably appreciate Mobius opting for it over the not-so-neon key lime that was also on offer.
He was meant to be starting fresh, after all.
He focused back on the tart.
It wasn’t all that big, but with smaller bits and a slow chew, Mobius could stretch out the experience, maybe rewire his brain to think that this was a far better form of respite than any moment in the automat. Maybe he could even get to a point where the memories of the last few times he’d been there didn’t hurt so much.
He wonders, briefly, if they still only serve one kind of pie. He knows deep down he’ll never know.
A car drives through a shallow puddle, making just enough noise to pull Mobius from his melancholy musings. He looked out the window, setting the remains of the tart down and picking up his bowl-like mug to sip his latte. He scanned the street, watching people move in and out of the various buildings, traveling down the road.
Then he noticed a lone bird on the old-fashioned style lamp post outside the shop. The lamp post wasn’t unique; they dotted the whole street, a leftover from when electric lighting had just started out. The bird, however, was entirely out of place.
A magpie. Magpies barely existed in the country, but they definitely weren’t native to the area Mobius had chosen to settle in, and would have had to have been transported in somehow from out west.
It seemed to be staring at him, which was a little unsettling but also strangely comforting.
He found himself raising his mug toward the bird with a slight grin and a nod.
The magpie fluttered its wings, tilted its head, and continued to stare.
Mobius glanced away, watching the world outside, eyes occasionally darting to the bird to still find it watching. Minutes turned to an hour, the latte cooled and almost drained, the tart only crumbs, and the bird was still there.
Mobius wasn’t quite ready to leave yet, and the cafe hadn’t gotten any busier. So he got up, ordered another drink - a mocha this time - and a newspaper to have something to look at that wasn’t the traffic and the magpie.
It was still there when he returned to his spot, attention momentarily diverted until Mobius returned. It continued to watch him for a little bit, and then it tilted its head like it was listening to something else. It glanced away, glanced back at Mobius, stared a moment, and then flew off.
His heart broke a little to see it leave. Maybe it was just fanciful thinking, but he thought that maybe…
He supposed it was probably for the best that the little guy took off.
Mobius opened the newspaper, let the familiar installment music draw him back into the moment, and sipped his drink.
Prompts: @monthlywritingchallenges July Golden Hour Theme Day 7 Whisper
Rating: T
Pairing: Jamil/Yuu
Notes: I always feel like I do these monthly challenges "incorrectly," but I had a Jamil/Yuu itch that needs to be scratched. Each prompt of this challenge will be a new chapter in what I've decided to call "What's in a Meet Cute (and the Events That Come After)". Hence my creative titles. 🙃 I'll also cross-post this to AO3
<- [Part 6] | [Part 8] ->
Masterlists for my other fics
“Has anyone ever told you you’re kinda predictable?”
The question struck Jamil at the oddest times for the next several days. When he was recording notes in business meetings; when he washed his hands in the restroom; when he cooked the same stir fry dish he ate every Wednesday. He would hear it like a faint whisper in his ear, which only worked to spike his natural sense of paranoia.
It didn’t help that he became hyper aware of Kalim’s praises after meeting Yuu at the coffee shop. Kalim’s first reaction to Jamil placing the coffee–after adding an extra dash of vanilla creamer and topped with a swirl of whip cream with a light dusting of cocoa powder–on his desk was a happy sigh. “Thanks Jamil! I can always depend on you for a treat when I need it most!”
The happy praise rubbed against a raw nerve, and Jamil began actively tracking his daily activities. His week days followed a very strict schedule, which he insisted was simply the results of his life being organized, not predictable. He meal-prepped at the start of the week (because one less decision in his routine opened his time for other activities); he scheduled meetings at the same times every day (to make it easier for Kalim to remember); he called his parents every Thursday at exactly six P.M. (because it was convenient to their schedule, of course).
It was perfectly normal for a man his age to be organized. In fact, it was a highly coveted trait in the eyes of potential partners. Jamil was sure of it despite the last time he dated being…did he meet the girl who thought anything that was purple tasted like soap in high school or university?
A voice that sounded dangerously similar to Najma’s compared him to a soggy cardboard box.
To prove he wasn’t predictable, Jamil decided to go on his evening run thirty minutes before his usual scheduled run. And he texted Najma to prove he wasn’t a soggy cardboard box. Her emoji response was like deciphering modern hieroglyphs, so he interpreted the message as the loving encouragement an actual sister would give.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t predicted his usual running path would have more foot traffic half an hour earlier than his usual schedule. The setting sun was still partially visible through the trees of the park, which meant there were more small families cluttering the footpaths. He ducked around a mother with a small child having a screaming fit and a couple taking up half the path to take a selfie together. The nerve above his eye began to tick when he dodged a frisbee that appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Why had he decided to change his schedule again?
He turned the corner and nearly tripped over a leash spanning the width of the footpath. He answered the disgruntled hiss aimed at him with an admittedly biting hiss. A familiar voice chided, “Grim, be nice.”
Jamil jerked upright. The gray cat he had hissed at gave an unhappy grumble before slinking back to circle Yuu’s ankles. She appeared shocked for a moment, her bored frown becoming a slight grimace. Her wide eyes darted up and down his person. “Oh! Jamil. Hi. You look good in a bun.”
Jamil did his own doubletake, not sure if he had heard her correctly over the sudden pounding in his ears. “What?”
“Nothing!” Yuu did a little twirl to untangle her legs from Grim’s leash. Grim stared up at her with the universal haughty stare all cats had for their human slaves before finding a patch of grass more interesting. She tried tucking the short strands of her hair behind her ear, but they immediately fell back into her face. “So, uh, did you enjoy your coffee the other day?”
Jamil frowned. He placed his hands on his hips and tried to catch his breath after the sudden stop in his run. “Huh? Coffee?”
“Yeah.” Yuu tried to sweep her hair from her face again. The motion failed. “The one you bought?”
Some part of Jamil’s mind must have blocked out the episode–and stubbornly clung to the “Has anyone ever told you you’re kinda predictable?” part–because it took him an embarrassingly long moment to catch up. “That coffee wasn’t for me.”
“Oh.” An awkward silence fell between them. A nearby dog barked, sparking a warning hiss from Grim. Yuu’s eyes darted everywhere but Jamil. “So…nice weather, we’re having, right?”
Jamil rubbed the back of his neck. Her comment about buns made more sense when he remembered he had secured his hair in one before going on his run. That made a lot more sense than automatically thinking she was talking about curry buns. (Since when had his thoughts become so obsessed with those stupid curry buns?) “Yes…”
“Was the coffee for your girlfriend?”
Now it was Jamil’s turn to sputter. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Great! I mean…oh.” Yuu reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumbled piece of paper. She smoothed it open, and Jamil could see faint, hastily written scribbles through the paper. Her voice dropped to a mumble Jamil could barely hear over the distant barking of dogs and screaming children. “Crap...she said not to bring up exes. What were the safe topics again?”
Yuu’s mutters trailed off. Another awkward silence compelled Jamil to add. “It was for my…boss. He’s as picky as yours.”
The confession managed to disperse the awkward tension between them. Yuu blinked before she smiled. She tucked the paper away while simultaneously tugging Grim away from a rock he attempted to eat. “Vil loved his coffee so much, he poured it on his temporary seamstress who felt him up with the excuse of getting his measurements before insulting my skirt again.”
Who was this Vil person she worked for? Did he even want to know? The guy sounded like a diva. Jamil made a mental note to do more research when he returned home. “At least he found a use for it then. It’s always a shame when good coffee goes to waste.”
Yuu hummed in agreement. “So do you come here often, or are we mutually stalking each other again?”
Jamil snorted out a laugh. He crossed the footpath to stand next to her when he noticed another runner coming up on them. The tall, broad shouldered man nodded his thanks, but Jamil thought his eyes lingered too long on Yuu before he passed. Jamil studied his short silver hair long enough to determine he couldn’t pull it back in a bun.
(Because Yuu apparently had an interest in buns–noted that disconnected portion of Jamil’s lizard brain.)
“I normally take a run through this park in the evening since it’s so close to my apartment,” Jamil finally answered. “It’s usually later than this, but I thought I would get out a little earlier today.”
Yuu hummed again. “That would explain how we never ran into each other before now. I like to bring Grim out for evening walks too while my friend does his run. He doesn’t think it’s safe for a young woman my age to be out so late alone.” From the way her nose wrinkled and she pitched her voice lower, Jamil assumed those were her friend’s words, not hers. “Nevermind that my uncle insisted I learn some type of self-defense back in middle school, or that I know how to disable a man in point-five seconds.”
Jamil theatrically raised his eyebrows. “And what is your secret to that?”
“Kick them in the balls.” A startled laugh escaped Jamil. Yuu widely grinned. “I’ve had to do it three times now. Four if you count the accidental practice shot. It works perfectly. You should ask Trey the next time you stop by the bakery.”
Despite his amusement, Jamil gave a sympathetic wince for the unassuming baker. He had a feeling he knew who the accidental practice shot had been. “I think I’ll stick to safer topics. Speaking of, is it safe to assume you live nearby too?”
“Yeah.” Yuu turned to point in the direction Jamil had been running, which would eventually lead to another entrance into the park. “I share an apartment with my friend across from the park. It’s why he insists on taking his runs at the same time I walk Grim.”
That explained why they had run into each other at the supermarket too, since it was only two blocks from the park. Funny, now that Jamil thought about it, he had gone shopping earlier than usual that evening too. How many times had they potentially missed each other by half an hour?
…did she just imply she was living with another guy?
A deep grunt startled Jamil out of his revelation. The tall guy who had run past them earlier now stood at Yuu’s elbow. Jamil was pretty confident in his own athleticism and physique, but even he wasn’t much of a match to the thick muscles on the guy's biceps. Granted, he could take a guy down with a bit of quick thinking and maneuvering, but he wouldn’t stay standing if the guy decided to suddenly clock him in the jaw.
The guy scowled down at Jamil, a sharp glint in his golden eyes. “Is this guy messing with you, Yuu?”
Yuu lightly punched the guy in the stomach like it was a normal reaction to have with someone twice as big as you scowling down at you. “Calm down, Jack. You know you don’t have to play the big brother card for every guy who talks to me, right?”
Jack grunted again. His glare didn’t waver from Jamil. He crossed his arms as if to emphasize the size of his muscles. Jamil easily pictured a big wolf baring his canines at him. Guys with that kind of energy had never impressed Jamil, but he wasn’t fool enough not to feel wary. “Better safe than sorry.”
Yuu exhaled a long sigh. Turning her back to Jack, she picked up Grim, who yowled at being separated from the rocks he licked. She dumped the feline into Jack’s arms like she didn’t realize he was too busy intimidating Jamil. Grim latched onto Jack’s arm with a furious growl, making Jack drop his threatening glare to curse under his breath. Jamil expected him to bludgeon Grim into the nearest tree trunk, but he instead tried to carefully extract each of Grim’s claws from his skin without hurting the cat.
Unfazed by both their behavior, Yuu turned her attention back to Jamil. She smiled, her brown eyes dancing in amusement likely for the chaos she had made. “Would you like to meet up in the morning instead of mutually stalking each other again?”
The invitation startled Jamil for a moment, but he nodded as if the question hadn’t sent his heart pounding in a quicker rhythm than his run. “Sure. How about at the bakery? It’s on my way to the office.”
Yuu enthusiastically agreed before grabbing Jack’s elbow to drag him away. With Grim’s angry yowls muffled by Jack’s buffy biceps, Jamil was able to hear her say, “Her advice worked!” with equal enthusiasm before they were out of hearing range. Jamil didn’t realize he was grinning until his cheeks started to hurt. He turned on his heel to return to his apartment too, congratulating himself for his unpredictability.
Then he kicked himself after realizing he hadn’t asked Yuu for her number.
“Isn’t that the competition song?” Jack looked up from his homework, a complicated expression on his face.
“Suppose it is. Sorry Deuce.” He shrugged, setting down his pencil quietly.
In the background the lyrics continued to play, a distant, “Hey so beautiful~” echoing around.
“Epel’s the one you should be more worried about. It doesn’t bother me nearly as much.” Jack set his pencil down too, turning to face him with a frown.
“Don’t put your feelings down like that.” His ears were pressed flat against his hair. “Vil screwed up back then and you’re allowed to be held up about it.”
Am I? He wanted to ask. Am I really?
“Thanks.” He tells Jack. “But I’m fine. I was just surprised to hear the song. It’s been a while.”
Vil had all but beat that song into their heads. It wasn’t even that long ago but he still had nightmares about it.
Not that that was any different from anything else the other housewardens did.
That stupid song just-
The song paused for a moment, startling deuce, then it switched over to another song.
Jack skipped it.
“Oh.” Deuce didn’t know what to say. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Jack shook his head, something pinched on his face. Right. Vil and Jack were friends once weren’t they?
“It’s not my favorite song or anything.” Jack shrugged again, shoulders going up to his chin with how forceful it looked. “You good though?”
Deuce pushed his lips up as an uncomfortable feeling settled in his chest.
“I… I’m good.” he continued. “Thanks though.”
“Course’.” Jack turned back to his homework stiffly, ears still drooped. “No problem.”
Whenever she and her girlfriend went to the mall, she would always drag the brunette over to the photo booth. Her favorite filter was the one that gave the girls cat features, and she would always squeal with delight when she saw herself and Ochaco with pointed ears and long whiskers.
Himiko grabbed Ochaco’s hand, pulling her into the heart of the bustling mall. “Come on!”
Ochaco smiled and let her girlfriend drag her along towards their favorite photo booth. This booth had the most filters, including Himiko’s favorite cat one. The blonde girl had described the cat filters in the other booths as “not cute at all,” so they avoided every other photo booth in the entire mall.
Ochaco thought Himiko was the cutest, cat filter or not.
The two girls’ favorite photo booth was bright pink with a rose-colored curtain. The sides of the booth were decorated with pictures of bows and flowers and kawaii cats.
Himiko stopped in her tracks.
“What is it?” Ochaco asked her.
The blonde girl’s eyes were wide. “It says our favorite booth is out of order.”
Sure enough, a blaring OUT OF ORDER sign had been taped to the front of the photo booth.
Himiko slumped. “That was my favorite one…” she murmured.
Ochaco squeezed her girlfriend’s hand. “We can always come back another day,” she reassured her.
However, Ochaco was as disappointed as Himiko. She wanted to take pictures with her cute girlfriend. She wanted to see Himiko’s entire face light up as the two of them wrapped their arms around each other and smiled for the camera.
Ochaco looked around. People buzzed throughout the mall, walking into stores and riding up escalators.
Then, she had an idea.
“Follow me!”
Himiko blinked in confusion as Ochaco took her hand and pulled her through the crowded mall.
“Ochaco! What are you doing?”
The brunette grinned back at Himiko. “Just trust me!”
The two girls giggled madly as they wove their way through throngs of startled mallgoers. The automatic doors opened before them as they ran into the gleaming sunlight outside.
Himiko tilted her head back, bursting into breathless laughter. “You’re so weird, Ochaco.”
And you’re the cutest, Ochaco thought with a smile.
In that moment, the brunette took her phone from her purse and held it in the air.
The camera flashed, its brightness intertwining with the shining sunlight that turned Himiko’s hair into molten gold.
The two of them looked at the picture. Golden rays shone all around them, and their eyes glittered in the sun’s warmth.
They were beaming, Himiko caught mid-laugh, and Ochaco squinting in the flash of glistening light.
Himiko squealed, wrapping her arms around the brunette and nuzzling her cheek. “You’re so cute, Ochaco!! You’re the cutest!!”
No, Ochaco thought. The sun could never hope to achieve the golden warmth of Himiko’s skin.
Darth Maul x gn!reader
WC: 861
After a long trip, all you want to do is rest, but a shadow follows you home
Warnings: None
Written for @monthlywritingchallenges Golden Hour Challenge - Day 12 - Long Shadows - ☀️
The days slips past quickly, until the end starts to draw near. Then the minutes slow to a crawl, becoming hours. It’s been a long journey, and you can see your destination growing larger in the windows.
“Thank you for joining us today!” An artificially cheery voice says over the intercom, “We’ll be landing on Coruscant shortly.”
Home, you think, sighing quietly in relief.
You’d hoped to be home sooner, but a never ending parade of delays and malfunctions had plagued your trip. You press a hand to the window of the passenger freighter, willing the ship to go faster.
Finally, you feel the jolt as the ship slips into the planet's atmosphere, a thrill curling up your spine. By the time the ship settles on the landing pad, all your things are gathered and you’re impatiently waiting for the door to unlatch.
When it finally does, you step out in the fading light of the Coruscant afternoon. You let yourself be pulled into the flow of people heading every which way. Your eyes wonder as your feet guide you home. The scent of something slightly spicy wafts through the air and your stomach growls in answer. So caught up in the euphoria of being home and having your boots on the ground again, you don’t notice the shift of the shadows behind you.
It’s not until you’re closer to your apartment, the flood of people having thinned out, that you notice the figure behind you. You pick up your pace, palming the vibroblade in your sleeve.
When you look again, the figure is gone. But you don’t slow, instead speeding up again, until you’re nearly running.
You dart around a corner and bounce off something solid. Firm hands catch you before you can fall, keeping you somewhere between standing and falling.
You smile at him, “I thought you’d be here tomorrow.”
He chuckles as the long shadows shift around him, stretching thin, “You were almost mugged twice of the way here.”
“Aw, but you protected me? I knew you liked me.”
He helps you back to your feet, those steady red eyes never leaving your face.
“Did you get it?”
You roll your eyes, stepping around him, “Who do you think I am?”
The door slides open, admitting you both into the quiet of the apartment.
“Make yourself comfortable.” You tell him before navigating the dark to your bedroom.
When you return, a lamp is lit and he’s sprawled over your couch. Something dark reflects out of the glass in his hand.
“Wow, you really took get comfortable to heart.”
He chuckles, the sound curling darkly inside you. “I figured since I pay for the place, it’s as good as mine.” The glass lands on the table with a soft clink, “Now, let me see my prize.”
The lights catch around him, projecting his shadow large on the wall. You step forward, unable to resist the pull of him.
“This wasn’t easy to get.” You answer, gently bouncing the pouch in your hand.
His smile is quick and sharp. “I don’t hire you for the easy jobs.”
He watches you approach, not moving to make room for you on the couch. Slowly you extend the pouch towards him. Fast as lightning, he wraps a hand around your wrist and pulls you against him.
He smiles at the way your pupils dilate, your breath quickening. Then he lets go, watching you stumble to your feet. He undoes the binding on the pouch and upends the content into his other hand. The gem, nearly black, absorbs all the nearby light.
“The Heart of Night.” He purrs, and then flicks his burning gaze up to you, "You did such a good job for me.”
He hears the soft sound you bite off, his lips curling predatorily.
“The credits will be deposited into your account as usual.”
He pushes to his feet, making sure to be in your space as he stands.
“Perfect.” You fight to keep your voice steady, “You know where to find me when you need me again.”
“Throwing me out so soon?”
You smile at him, “Well you’re welcome to stay for dinner, but I don’t think I have anything that would appeal to your lofty tastes, Lord Maul.” There’s enough attitude on those last words to have him smiling.
Just then a knock at the door, and a disinterested voice says, “Delivery.”
“I took the liberty, since my tastes are so lofty.” He says, nudging you out of the way, “Hope you don’t mind.”
You cough back a laugh as he shifts around you. He deals with the delivery and soon is setting the food on what serves as your kitchen table.
“Did you get,”
“Yes,” he says, long suffering, “I got your dumplings.”
“You know you love me.”
Maul catches you as you walk past, hooking a strong around your waist.
“Yes, I do.” He says, lowering his face to yours. “Even when you drive me up the wall.”
“It's good for you.” You smile, “I missed you.”
He kisses you then, his lips warm and soft against yours. The shadows dance across your walls, celebrating your reunion.
