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pwblogarchive · 2 months

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May 2006

05/02/06 Q&A

question

Hey Pete, so, when can we can expect the new record to come out? Can you give us any information about it?

answer

late fall- info- there will be at least three love songs on it.

question

Hey Pete! If Andy has a diet of chips and mountain dew to make his hair look good, then what do you do to yours??? xoxo

answer

rusty nails, elmers glue and water thats in the bottom of a garbage dump. Yum!

question

Pete, whats yur fav thing to do with a knife? a. stab your self b. stab the guy next to you thats hittin on yur gurl c. stab the monsters in your dreams d. carve in a tree how much luv u have for life

answer

butter my bread and cut patricks pancakes up into little bites for him.

question

what is your favorite song out of “the music or the misery”, “snitches and talkers get stitches and walkers”, and “my heart is the worst kind of weapon”?

answer

i hate that band, they are selloutz.

question

hey peter just wondering in the music video for a little less sixteen candles a little more touch me where did u get your outfit we luv u guys

answer

we had them specially made for the video though we’ve been wearing them onstage on this tour.

question

Hey Pete. Is it true that you guys are now feuding with panic?? because that would suck if you guys are. i am happy for you that you made up with brandon flowers!!

answer

we are totally like feuding with panic. we are going to have a gigantic oil wrestling match between brendon and patrick to see who gets to keep the voice once and for all. bamboozled.

question

got into a fight with some stairs at school today. my feet were in on it. the stairs won. good thing my nose isnt broken. how was your day?

answer

ive got beaten up by the stairs on many occassions. a car window beat me up once too.

question

umm, i know its a wierd questin, but how do you keep you body in such great shape? i mean…WOW! please tell! Lol

answer

my body is falling apart. thank you no days off on tour and 15 foot jumps.

question

if you had kids what would you name them? xoxo love hannah

answer

patrick, joe, andy, and jason.

question

whats your eye color?

answer

it goes between dog poop and spinach with red spots. k thx.

question

you “officially have 22 songs for the new album”. just making sure, are there going to be 22 songs on the album, or are you selecting like 12-13 for the new album?

answer

we arent ready for “use your illusions I and II” - i would expect around 12 songs to make it.

question

peter.peter.pumpkin.eater… whats dirtys real name?

answer

jonathan cecil miller and he works at the red lobster in jacksonville.

question

any tips for learning to play bass?

answer

nah. but if youve got any i could use them.

question

Look, for once in your life maybe you should try reading some of the questions a bit further down the list…………………………yes, you are busy, I know that, but maybe some of us are busy too and dont have time to ask the same question 3 million times a day just so that you can go and ignore it because it was asked slightly too early. I mean, have you got some sort of selective reading problem, where you can only read the first 10 questions or something? Some of us have had some really good or different questions to ask and youve ignored them in favour of “OMFGZZZZZZZZ P33T UR SOOOO HAWTT” and it pisses me off like theres no tomorrow. So yeah, Im done with asking you questions, because you arent going to answer them. There is no point since it feels like Im asking a brick wall what the time is. Have fun answering your “I w4nn4 h4v3 ur b4bi3zzzzzzzzzz” questions.

answer

wow. and look which quesiton i wasted my time on…. the truth is there are sooooo many questions in here. i get to as many as i can. sometimes i hum “its hard out there for a pimp” and dirty does a little dance.

question

How does it feel to be Mr. New Booty?

answer

what is that

question

If unrequited love was in 2005 whats in for 2006?

answer

finding someone you want to pack in your suitcases and take everywhere with you.

5/03/06

question

pete theres this pic of you going around on the boards were you have on a track jacket and big nerdy glasses and sharpie on your hands and some ppl say thers a scar on your chin and some ppl(including me) cant see it. do you have a scar on your chin? if you do how did you get it?

answer

i do. at a show a long time ago my friend mani climbed on my back and my face hit the stage. i also have a scar in my eyebrow from joe trohmans guitar.

question

does fob not do signings anymore? if thats not a sign of selling out im not quite sure what is.. same goes for aar and a little bit oct. fall, hh, and fftl

answer

we do meet and greets and as well every night i look for kids after the show. some venues kick people off the property but i try and find the kids every night.

question

PLEASE READ THIS. I went to the concert in Charlotte yesterday. Nothing I read on the internet was true. I am an OCK. I was there at 10 til 6:00 and I was considered late. I didnt get in early. Well, that was okay. I saw October Fall. & Only me and one other girl knew the words. Yay for us & our mad love for music. Then FFTL came on. I still had about ten minutes before the meet and greet. & I was excited to see their set. Well, when I went to find the M&G place, I couldnt find it. I asked like 10 different people, and they told me 10 different places. When I finally found it, it was 7:23. The guards wouldnt let me in. I saw you, and yelled Hey! & showed you my bracelet. You just kept walking and laughing with the guys. & I had a letter for the band. So, I got someone to put it on stage. Then, the security guy knocked it off and laughed in my face. I did get right at the barricade for your set. I knew EVERY word. Too bad no one around me did. & I got threatened by some 12 yr olds dad that he would get security because I was pushing. But, I was going to be up front no matter what, for your set. Yes, I cried, and yes, it sucked. But I still love you guys. & I always will. I just wish you wouldve gotten my letter. Im bummed.

answer

im sorry. i didnt know you were showing your bracelet. usually when people yell stuff its goofy… you should send your letter though.

question

what is your most cherised memory from high school

answer

leaving it.

question

new booty is a play on “ms. new booty” which is some song by a rapper i cant remember. but the name wouldnt apply to you because youre somewhat lacking in the buttocks area.

answer

are you saying i aint got no junk in the trunk? i do heart bubba sparx

May 6, 2006

The blisters on my thumbs have a love/hate relationship with my sidekick, as does my sense of selfesteem. You get it or you don't. The last week has been amazing. I got the chance to meet lauren hoffman, who wrote one of my favorite songs to fall asleep to. Its so strange to put a face with a song. I also got the chance to hang with some of the guys from the band damnation ad which is oretty much the only thing that got me through age 14 to 18. Its so weird to get nervous and shake around people who sing the words that make you heart beat- but it happens to all of us I think.

Other than that shows have been amazing. I realize that I have based my entire life on maverick from top gun.

Can't wait to hang out with old friends at bamboozle.

Watch out for us on newstands around the end of the month.

Truelove

5/09/06 Q&A

question

Dear Pete, so heres my problem, my parents were divorced when i was eight and now i am 13. my parents have both found new companions and i am vey happy for them. only the thing is my mom and her boyfriend are constantly having indiscreet sex. it is really starting to piss me off. i dont know how i am going to confront my mom about her leaving open condom wrappers in the office. should i just but out and ignore it or should i tell my mom that she needs to be a little more modest? thanx.i heart u 4ever peter.

answer

i think that it is ok for you to bring this up to your mom. do it in a respectful way. i am sure she is unaware that it is bothering you or that you are even noticing.

question

Patrick reminds me of a cute little panda bear, what kind of animal does he remind you of?

answer

maybe a koala bear or something. he is cute but if you get close hes kinda got some vicious claws. besides i could see him sitting around just chilling and eating leaves all day- maybe you were right about the panda though. something cute and smelly.

question

Britney Spears or Christina Aguilera?

answer

billy beckett. you know becks is hotter.

May 10, 2006

the keyboard is unforgiving. it doesn't have much give. it hates the life inside your fingertips, it is jealous. if youre not careful youre gonna write yourself into a corner... her mom had a heart that served as a trophy case for award winning methheads. i couldnt blame her for how she turned out but id love to shoot the scientist that figured out the connection between geneology and behavioral patterns. her trustfund is nothing more than a series of amateur nights in florida strip clubs and an alcohol tolerance like you wouldnt believe. shes a prizefighter past her prime who just wont get out of the ring because its the only thing shes ever known. youre the young buck in fuck me red gloves laced tight, grinning just before the bell in the first round. because you know how the odds stack up. because you know that its just a matter of being faster and hitting harder. you are a wordsmith- imagine the bedside manner of this spin doctor. "sometimes if things are going right you just need to lower your standards". its last call for a shot of conscience...

you remind me of the way things went before all of this. www.myspace.com/thehushsound - wine red demo.

- xo

May 14, 2006

"charlie there is no future in anything. i hope you agree. that is why i like it at war. every day and every night there is a strong possibility that you will get killed and not have to write. i have to write to be happy whether i get paid for it or not. but it is a hell of a disease to be born with. i like to do it. which is even worse. that makes it from a disease into a vice. then i want to do it better than anybody has ever done it which makes it into an obsession. an obsession is terrible. hope you haven't gotten any. thats the only one i have left". ernest hemingway in a letter to charles scribner.

nothing steals the magic from writing the way writing about it does.

but i can't help but have it spin through my head as i read "the old man and the sea" over and over again.

following two plane crashes in africa.

the old man is just an old man.

the fish are just fish.

and the sharks are just sharks.

even in this context i dream of it no less.

this maybe the closest to love that i ever get.

i hate grammar. i hate spell check.

they are tools and trades we focus on when the right words escape us.

while we can use them in a world that we write, where we make our own rules.

they can rob a piece of its life.

for me words are more of a compulsion.

it is involuntary.

it falls in the catagory of breathing and the beating of the heart.

sometimes i want to throw my hands up.

to wave the white flag.

to apologize for everything i havent done yet.

but usually i want to forget the pictures and the rumors.

to become a recollection, a shared memory. visually: a faint, sentimental face that blurs into the background of everything.

to watch all of the magazines turn to static.

and only be thought of by the clicking of these keys.

its a shot in the dark.

but every boy has got to dream, right?

on my best day, when all the planets have aligned, i still couldnt come close to touching you.

- xo

5/15/06 Q&A

question

whats your fave. item of clothing?

answer

hoodies. bury me in one.

question

What do u think of vegitarians?!

answer

i think everyone should go to www.peta2.com and vote andy as the worlds sexiest vegetarian.

May 16, 2006

take your taste back, peel back your skin. you should try saying no once in awhile.

name names. i wish there were words stronger than fuck you. but face down on a wet carpet, salty eyes i cant think of them. "i really enjoyed kissing you tonight. i wish there hadn't been any interruptions" versus "things happen". the texts flash and youre fucking caught. im addicted to the truth, didn't anyone tell you baby.

this is me broken down.

your fist and my face- because i found you out.

i dont think ive ever met anyone so terrible.

eyes only.

only you understand this.

idontcareanymore.

- xo

May 17, 2006

“friends that lay together, stay together or how the thoughts in my head go, unfiltered”

forgive me for not showing more remorse- apologies were never really my thing- outside of feeling sorry for myself. the last nail in your coffin got stuck in the mail. youre gonna have to wait. until then focus on love below the waist. they say your head can be a prison- consider this a conjugal visit. my dad calls girls he dated back in highschool "old flames"- like it makes them feel better in his own head. he always asks my mother if "he's still got it?" but would anyone answer this question with a "no", like ever in history? its like i can't think of myself getting older without thinking about the way my father is 30 years older than me. theres not much that terrifies me more.

if i ever freely gave out the details of any of these events- theyd fucking lock me up and throw away the key. but thats okay as long as the place has 24 hour room service and a stocked mini bar.

everything everwhere is a roll of the dice. and the best way to make it through life with hearts and wrists intact is to realize "two out of three aint so bad". except when you throw a hail mary and its not caught. dont bet it all on anyone, ever, except yourself.

ive got alot of "Friends" but only two or three friends. you wouldnt like me if you saw the inside of my head but you might love me anyway.

everyone sends everyone the same lyrics as though they were written exactly for their hearts. but they werent. they were written because someone had a mortgage to pay.

noone owes me anything. no empathy or truth, little trinkets or kind words. at the end of the day im just a boy. and i know that. im okay with that.

she is a STARVINGmakeupARTIST. we exchanged sloppy kisses in the rain until i realized that she was only in it for the rain.

"tell the world to leave me the fuck alone, ie "please find me a home"..."

Posted by xoat 3:31 AM

May 19, 2006

“is that your ego in your pocket pete or are you just happy to see me?”

the truth is it feels foreign everytime a face graces the cover of one of "those" magazines or one of "those" countdowns. because all of the words are about how i wanted to cut my insides out. it makes me feel uneasy. the smile on my face is just so you wont ask whats the matter.today i thought about walking into traffic. not to die but because i am fascinated by injury. its probably good that "those" thoughts are so fleeting.someone thought theyd go out and teach my heart a lesson.lil' wayne "the carter 2" is keeping me out of my mind.

posted by xo @ 1:24 AM

May 20, 2006

“if i could do this all over i dont know that i would have called anyone at all.”

"all i ave in this world is a pistol and a promise, a fistful of dollars, and a list full of problems".spent the day figuring out my size in jeans and then buying two sizes smaller. the rest of the day will be spent painting them on my body.it gets harder everytime i have to pull out of your driveway and fly out of your life. this thing was the reason i met you and you are the reason i wrote the words and it is the reason we are ruined. itd be funny if it wasnt so pathetic.im guessing that if you looked up jealousy in the dictionary- there would be a picture of me.i heart upton sinclair even though he did not write the above quote.

posted by xo @ 4:52 PM

5/20/06 Q&A

question

How did you feel when Lauren Hoffman did a cover of Gin Joints and dedicated it to you?

answer

its amazing. its like someone you really admire saying the stuff you do is ok. besides i think she may have done it better than us.

question

Soo, Brent Wilson is being replaced by some guy connected with TAI? Pop goes the conspiracy theorists. You may want to make a statement soon.

answer

its not really my band so i dont feel that its my place to make a statement. i would just say there are two sides to every story. listen to both, dont immediatly condemn either and dont believe everything you read on the internet. im just glad were talking about something besides my penis.

question

would you rather be engraved in history and remembered as “the band that sold all of those records” or engraved in peoples hearts and memories and remembered as “the band that made the music that changed my life”? there is no right or wrong answer.

answer

i want to be a band that changed the way people look at the world. this is a lofty goal. well see if it happens. but of your two choices, definitely the second.

question

Hey Pete. Have you ever felt like you wanted something to end, but when it does you wish it wasnt over? I want to get out of this high school and this town so bad, but yesterday my best friend graduated and now I wish I could go back to last year because that means he wouldnt have to leave. I have a major fear of change, but at the same time I want everything to be different. Does that make me a hypocrite?

answer

everyone is a hypocrite. i think of change like james bond movies. the actor always changes, the character stays the same. it makes me feel ok. i kind of want to find a way through life like that.

question

Okay, i started this year as a preppy cheerleader, and ended it like a emo-goth. i had a secret love for your band, but never showed it. Now i have to do JV cheerleading next year, and i dont want too. I just want to be a full-FOB fan. They wont let me quit, so how do i show my style through a cheer uniform? Love bunch Pete

answer

honestly. it doesnt matter what you are wearing. look at what i wear. its a disaster. be yourself. the rest will fall into place.

question

if you ever decided to change your name…what would you change it to?

answer

pistol pete or spiderman.

question

Are you sad that the tours over? I am………I miss you guys.

answer

yes. that was the best tour we have ever been on. we got to be such good friends with everyone.

question

Pete, since Joe is Jewish, has he been circumcised??

answer

hold on let me look. Yup.

question

since you basically grew up with hardcore, do you even enjoy playing softcore? Do you even like the music you play?

answer

i love the music we play or we wouldn’t play it. we did for a long time before anyone really cared.

question

What are your 3 favorite movies?

answer

currently: barfly, goonies and ghostbusters 2.

question

How do you want to be remembered when you die?

answer

“a brave man who died honorably trying to rescue orphans from a fire” or some better lie.

question

what part of your body do you dislike the most?

answer

my brain. it makes me behave the way i do.

question

Pete, because your hair grew out are you back to your old hair or do you put like ten thousand gallens of hair jell in it to make it stick up?

answer

who needs gel? showers are for suckers.

question

pete, Juicy Coututre hoodies… in or out for 2006?

answer

that shit is as out as that one growly face i make.

question

What do you think of Mikey now he has had laser eye surgery? His glasses are as much a part of him as his bass! Its like you not wearing a hoodie. Life as we know it, has ended.

answer

sometimes you gotta switch it up. mikey is always gonna be mikey so get back to swooning over him.

May 21, 2006

“at night your body is a canvas”

and i am the greatest artist that has ever lived.currently: trying to lose all my sensitivies and sensibilities. gotta keep running even though we lapped them. trying to become the person i am supposed to be.

posted by xo @ 1:12 PM

May 22, 2006

calm down, charlie brown.

on my way back to pretending to be normal.

real post soon.

so i guess the link i posted isn't working for some people:

there are a couple of new pictures making fun of, oh that one incident out there.

you should be able to see them in this issue of ap.

gotta laugh at myself, especially at the hushsounds expense.

- xo

May 22, 2006

Holly Golightly: You know those days when you get the mean reds?

Paul Varjak: The mean reds, you mean like the blues?

Holly Golightly: No. The blues are because you are getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?

Paul Varkak: Sure.

Holly Golightly: Well, when I get it the only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you then - then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name!

posted by xo @ 8:09 PM

May 31, 2006

"the language i speak is hate and my verbs are my fists"

clam up everytime you ever try to say anything real to anyone outloud without the red light or microphone.endearing? pathetic?lose the question marks.edit.we should do this more often.reality television without the cameras.a ticket. a miss. a loss. a cancellation.i am the hot mess,"downtown girls" are more fun, forever. like he said.there is not a single word i could write that would make you understand how i feel right now.please return my spirit to me.its 8am pete, dont you dare go to sleep.

posted by xo @ 12:03 AM

#fall out boy #pete wentz #livejournal

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 years

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HIII ITS ME💪💪

OKOK SO- THIS IS IN A WAY SPECIFIC ??

(also i cant tell if this is against ur boundaries so if it is just feel free to ignore it !!)

SO IVE BEEN LIKE- BEING HARASSED BY A FEW OLD, TOXIC FRIENDS (thats the part that may or may not be against ur boundaries cause like- toxic relationships except like- its not like- uh- in at toxic relationship if that makes sense lol-pls tell me if it is ^^) BUT LIKE- ITS BEEN A TOUGH COUPLE OF DAYS LOL, VERY MUCH NEED SOME PHIL COMFORT FOR IT LMAOOOO

AGAIN IF THIS IS UNCOMFY PLSPLSPSL TELL ME- OKOK THANKS BYE ILY/P

Oh this is fine! Not against my boundaries at all. I'm sorry to hear you've been harassed and I hope this scenario I thought of helps <3

.........

Managing a Freddy’s establishment wasn’t exactly what you or Phil dreamed of. But as his assistant manager (and bf) you both made it work somehow.

While he handled the paperwork you usually scoped out the place to make sure things were running smoothly.

One day you find some people harassing Toy Freddy when he’s just trying to sing a song, mocking him and calling him mean names.

And they were grown adults, for that matter. Which was even worse.

You go to confront them is but suddenly recognize the group as your old friends. A mean bunch that you previously cut out of your life.

One of them spots you and says “oh hey [y/n] long time no see, you're working at another one of these dumps?”

“..uh yeah.”

“Why?”

“Come again?”

“Everyone knows what happened at the last place. Did you forget five kids vanished under your watch?” Another sneered, backing you into a corner. “I bet you had something to do with it..or maybe your stupid boyfriend did. What’s his last name again? Guy?”

“It’s pronounced “Gee”, for your information.” That irked you. Even after all these years their toxic attitudes didn’t change. “Listen. I won’t hesitate to kick you guys out. Now leave Toy Freddy alone-”

“But what if he bites another kid???” One feigns a terrified look, before laughing. “Can’t wait to see your stupid asses get sued. Maybe you'll be out on the streets. It’s what you deserve for working in this trashy place.”

Their immaturity was too much for you to handle, but before they could mock you further, they see Phil coming up behind you, literally seething red.

“At least [y/n] is at a job he loves. What the hell are you all doing with your lives besides being disrespectful fucks?” He’s speaking irrationally calm, though you knew he’s pissed off. “I won’t say this again: Get. Out. NOW!!!”

All at once your ex-friends flee the restaurant and you turn back to Phil, grateful he saved you.

“Thanks, hun.” You smiled, sighing as you looked down at your shaky hands.

‘When did they start doing that?’

“Of course. I guess those were the friends you mentioned..” He notices your hands and takes them into his own. There’s guilt flashing in his eyes, and a bit of lingering anger. “Why would they say those awful things?”

“Once an asshole, always an asshole I guess.” You shrugged, feeling a lot better now he was here. “They won’t change. But that’s fine. In the end I’ve grown and they didn’t.”

Phil was silent as you both went back to the office, and once there he suddenly turned around and hugged you. “If anyone ever harasses you like that again..please let me know. I’m always here for you, even if I may seem busy. You can always talk to me about anything.”

You were surprised, but smiled and hugged him back, feeling warmth and happiness in your chest.

“Thanks, Philly. Since when did you become so affectionate at work, hm?”

“...j-just now.” He blushes, hiding his face.

‘What a protective man’ You felt like the luckiest guy in the world.

#clanask #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's x reader #blueycapsules x reader #phone guy x reader #phil guy x reader #philip guy x reader #fluff #comfort #headcanons #male reader

101 notes · View notes

stinkrascal · 2 years

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hey jaiden! i hope you’re having a good day :) i was just wondering…i think i remember you saying you have a s/o and i just started seeing a guy like it’s been like 2 months anyway the point of the story is that he laughed my computer desktop (which was of my simmies) and wanted to take a pic which “he wasn’t going to show his friends” but like why else would he want to take a pic??? anyway i was just wondering if your s/o knew about your simblr and if they do what are their thoughts? like am i weird for thinking the guy i’m seeing was rude for what he did? sorry for the dump you can totally ignore this! ty tho :)

hello anon! sorry for not replying sooner, i had a kinda busy day yesterday! but yes i do have a boyfriend, we've been together for six years now, and hes very supportive of my sims 4 blog. he knows of and asks about my ocs and talks to me about my story and the ideas i have for it regularly, we've even had this running joke for a few years now where he says "so have they gone camping yet?" because he knows ive been planning for the strauds + caspian, vaughn, and karmen to go camping together for a really, really, really long time now ahaa :')).

as gently as i can say this, your partner doesn't sound very nice at all from the little information i have on him. my desktop background are also both pictures of my sims, and my partner has NEVER mocked me for it, and he's definitely never gone as far as to take pictures of it in an attempt to mock me to his friends (which i know your partner says he's not going to do so, but yeah... idk if i buy that). he sounds like he's not very supportive at all, which to me is a huge red flag. you should be able to freely talk about your interests with your partner, no matter how silly they seem. i'd seriously talk to him about his behavior and how it hurt your feelings, and see from his reaction what to do going forward. if he reacts well, then good! and if he doesn't... well, that's really only for you to decide what to do next. but like i said, if you ask me that's a nasty red flag. not even just that he wanted to take a picture of it for some odd reason, but the fact that he laughed at your hobby and seemed to disregard it... idk, that doesn't bode well for me. i'm very deeply attached to my sims, i genuinely love this hobby so so much, so the idea of someone mocking me for it makes my heart ache. i can only imagine how you feel. i'm sorry you had to deal with this anon, i promise you're not weird for thinking what he did was rude, it WAS rude and it should be addressed. best of luck to you :-(

#jade answers #anonymous #i feel very fortunate that my boyfriend is extremely supportive of my hobby like he is #im happy u reached out to me about this bc i feel like i can definitely weigh in on things like this #not to brag but i give really good relationship advice lol. it is my specialty #i hope things are better in the future anon! ily :-(

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jangofctts · 4 years

Text

Sink Your Teeth In (Part 2 of Are You In Or Out?)

Rated: Explicit (Paz is in the next chapter DONT WORRY)

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, the cold?, reader is in PERIL YET AGAIN, vaginal fingering, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap them schlongs yall), brief hand jobs, swearing, angst, very VERY light choking, din is a sub sorta?? bottom energy

Summary: Well. At least you aren't dead. After a solo hunt gone wrong, you’re dumped in a cave on Csilla. Hopefully someone finds you before you freeze to death.

a/n: hey…so uh. HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE HUH?!? aheM anyway--yall I just wanna thank everyone first off for all the love and support!!! I see all of your comments and tags and AH IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. ALSO SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO @djxrxn THIS WOULDNT HAVE BEEN DONE WITHOUT YOU BB GORL

Well—

Here you are.

Taken by surprise by another bounty, further proving how irrevocably incompetent you are at this line of work. You blame the binders. An older, clunkier model—easy to pick if you’re clever enough and yes. Maybe you should’ve asked to borrow a carbonite chamber, but hey—where’s the fun in that?

Not much, as it so happens.

Your feet had been kicked up on the dashboard, dozing and unaware of the freed bounty creeping up behind the pilot’s seat. Something delightfully blunt smashed against your temple, jolting you into a brief conscious state where the only thing you could think before passing out again, was a resounding—

Oh, fuck me sideways with a fucking lightsaber—

The rest is hazy. A blur of colors and the fuzzy shapes of your bounty’s face sneering in amusement when she bound your wrists and ankles and left you in the cargo hold. Vaguely you recall your ship being commandeered, swung into an unidentified atmosphere and landing on said unknown planet Or planets. Planet hopping to cover up a trail.

The bitter cold, sharper than a needle through skin is what shook off the last dregs of unconsciousness. The bounty’s hand was hooked into the collar of your clothes, dragging your limp body through drifts of snow and ice. You would’ve fought back—should’ve even though each extremity felt like a numb block of lead. Not very useful in a fight…

Soon, the snow turned to mud and the mud to stone as a mouth of a cave slid over the impossibly blue sky. Dumped in a cave, and left to die—perfect way to bite the dust. Your bounty turned captor lands a sharp kick to your ribs, mouthing some curse in a language you don’t understand, and left without a second thought.

Seems about right. You have a knack for lying helpless and half dead in places you ought not to be in.

Two days and counting, you’ve been holed up in this blasted cave with no food, no supplies and no comlink. It’s going be a fucking chore to find you—nearly impossible. You’re lucky in that aspect you guess—you know enough bounty hunters to sniff out a a needle in a whole stack of needles, so all it is is a race of time against the elements and how long it takes for one of them to notice.

Aeris is no help. He left a day before you had—hired as personal protection for some syndicate leader halfway across the galaxy. Ives is in a similar boat, off-world and unavailable to drag your ass out of the hole you’ve dug. Which leaves…

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and thumb. Anytime you even think of those two a migraine cumulates behind your eyes. It’s…it’s not like anything bad happened in the aftermath—there’s been no fallout or arguments with barbed words as weapons. It’s been quiet. Like stepping onto a sheet of cracked transparisteel in a library full of tight-lipped academics.

The questions lurk under the surface of every conversation and longing look cast your way. You’ll need to clarify and sort things out eventually, but fuck—it’s such a mess of frazzled heartstrings and fine strands of impossible thoughts that lead into an endless void of doubt. You’re shoving that emotional time bomb to the very back of your mind—everything is still so raw…

So you ran.

Picked up any and all jobs that the Guild provided just to escape the looming decision of confronting a certain pair of Mandalorians. That and with them having their own tasks to complete, it was rare to see them, let alone together in the past few weeks. A simple run in here and there in the halls of the Covert, but you were too busy to stop and chat—forced a chaotic schedule upon yourself as an excuse to avoid staying in once place at a time.

Coward.

The word knots in your stomach like gnarled tree roots escaping their prison of dark soil on untrodden land.

Maker—how did everything become so tangled?

You draw your knees up to your chest and release a long, drawn out exhale that echoes through the cave. You sniff and force the swell of tears that prick at your eyes away. You’re pretty sure they’ll freeze and you’re not hoping to find out.

The only good thing about being dropped on this Maker-forsaken, wasteland devoid of anything but snow, is the free ice for the nasty gash on your forehead. A nice little parting gift.

It’s shallow…you think—it stopped bleeding the night before and is now just a scabbed over, tender wound that throbs whenever you move your head too fast. Concussion maybe—a mild one.

Maker willing when someone finds your sorry ass they’ll have bacta. Or a blanket. Either would be peachy.

Sitting up with a wince, you shuffle to the mouth of the cave for the thousandth time and scour the skyline for a familiar ship. Or, any ship really. The only thing you do see is a lonesome wisp of cloud against the grayish blue sky much to your chagrin. You scowl and stalk back into your little hovel and slump back onto the ground.

The hours drag on, the watery light of the dying sun barely doing anything to warm you. Sulking is hardly what you should be doing—not great for the burdened mind and all that, but ah, it’s so fun to wallow in misery. You curl your knees up to your chest and you must slip into a doze because when you’re snapped back into the present, footsteps punch through the frozen tundra outside your cave.

Adrenaline crackles down your spine—the bounty changed her mind. Ultimately decided she’d be safer in the long run with you dead. Fine.

If this is where your grave is going to be, might as well get in one or two punches. What’s another black eye anyway?

A shadow flickers at the mouth of the cave, curling around the wall as she draws closer. A brown boot kicks through the snow and—

“Changed your mind? I—“

Your words die on your tongue as relief floods your veins. Din Djarin stands before you, a sight for sore eyes in these trying times.

Frost glitters on the burgundy chest plate, glinting in the dim sunlight that touches the mouth of the cave. A delicate feathering of the dainty crystals that no high end lace maker could ever hope to mimic curls up the front of Din’s visor and eats away at the edges of his cloak. His heavy step forward reverberates off the walls, some of that ease replaced by the prickle of dread. His silence is unnerving.

“Din,” you say again, just so he’ll say something. “I can—“

You move to stand, but he interrupts with a halting;

“Sit.”

Your mouth snaps shut and you drop back on the floor. This…is not good. His footsteps are heavy as he approaches you and every muscle in your frame tightens like a fist wrapping around your ribcage and squeezing. The precise edges of his helmet are not a forgiving sight and even when he kneels onto one knee you have to resist the natural urge to flinch. Like this, despite hunching over, Din is broad. All hard muscle and sinew amplified by the bulky layer of beskar.

Your tongue runs over the insides of your teeth as you track his hand that he thrusts foreword. You hiss and jerk away at the sudden needly pain when his gloved thumb finds the edges of your head wound. A low sound of disapproval filters out through the helmet in a low metallic buzz.

“You won’t need stitches,” he says. Din reaches into one of his various supply pouches and pulls out a tiny vile of bacta. He casually pulls off his right glove, unscrews the vile and smears the bacta over his thumb. This time you don’t make a sound, even though your nerves scream at the razor like sensation of his thumb working the bacta into the damaged flesh. He doesn’t ask how the injury happened and you don’t care to tell him. There’s a time and place for stories about battle scars and near misses—it’s much too fresh to be spoken of right now.

The brief torture finally ends after once last glance over for other presenting injuries. He finds none, replaces his glove and stands with a muted grunt. You know what’s next. You’d rather avoid it—you aren’t keen on the berating lectures—as deserved as they are.

“I found your ship on Sato 3,” Din begins with a growl. “Imagine my surprise when I found your bounty selling it for parts.”

Ah, there it is. You wince and study your fingernails. “Pile of junk anyway…”

“I thought you’d be smarter about these things,” he snarls, his sharp tone deadly enough to slice through bone. “Was the hole blown into your lung not enough for you?”

You swallow and bite your tongue.

The bristling Mandalorian, continues and jabs an orange tipped finger at you. “You are reckless.”

Your chest constricts as you look away, shame blooming in the pit of your stomach.This is a new facet of Din you’ve never encountered. You aren’t naïve—even the most docile of people can harbor a temper, you know that. And you know Din is by no means passive—he’s an elite warrior equipped with a small arsenal at his disposal. You don’t expect him to coddle you or treat you different than any other companion; but…but it’s hard not to take his ire to heart. Not when it’s the kind of anger that boils deep in your chest and erupts with molten streams that leaves scathing wounds and blistered feelings.

You chew your lip hard enough to taste blood and avoid his piercing gaze. You think if you do you might catch fire and burn to a crisp. “I’m sorry.”

The meek apology settles in the air like a heavy fog. Din’s anger still brews, looming and dark but he reigns in his temper and switches out the searing cadence of his words with chilly informality. You’re not sure which is worse.

“No more bounties.”

“What?” Your brows knit together. The fuck does he mean.

“No more hunts alone—“

You interrupt with a scoff. “You’re grounding me?”

He strides across the small space and plants himself on the opposing wall. “Until you’re competent enough, you have no business being out in the field. You might as well be bait at this point.”

“Competent.” You echo through clenched teeth.

His helmet dips, leveling a steady glare of indifference. “The Crest is a half cycle’s walk from here. In the morning I’m taking you back to Nevarro.”

“I’m not a child. You can’t just,” you throw your hands up in dismay, “ban me from bounty hunting.”

Din’s armor clinks together as he moves to sit. He rests one elbow on his propped up knee, extends his other and rolls his helmet to meet your eyes. “Your actions reflect the Covert now. We can’t risk discovery because of one stupid mistake or a careless loose end.”

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Stars, you want to smack yourself. Your ship, as shitty as it was, hosted a good chunk of sensitive information, all encrypted and translated into binary. A mediocre slicer could hack through it in hours. Not exactly foolproof but hey, at least you had something. Good thing your bounty wasn’t in the market of selling stolen ships to the Empire.

“Din?”

The Mandalorian makes no noise of affirmation that he heard you. You sigh and take his silence as a go ahead and clear your throat. “How long was I gone for?”

Here, in the cave it’s been nearly three days, but the rest of it you’re not exactly sure. Hunting the bounty down took up at least a week or two and even longer to capture her and there’s no accounting for the time lost after your ship was commandeered. Your teeth roll over your bottom lip as you wait for him to respond.

“Almost two months.” He replies evenly. “Your transmissions were cut three weeks ago and I didn’t think anything of it. Comms are always patchy in Wild Space."

Leather creaks as his fist balls at his side. “You didn’t answer for days. Paz and I tracked the ship to Sato 3, but you weren’t there. Do you know how difficult it was to pick through all the planets recorded on your log?”

You blink and return to picking at your fingernails.

“You weren’t easy to find, I—“ He severs the rest of his sentence with a crackling sigh and tilts his head back. “You’re lucky.”

The hesitance lacing his words makes you bite your tongue, the snarky retort crumbling to ash in your mouth. Din doesn’t bother to filter his words—he’s blunt. Efficient and to the point when he does decide to speak. That…well that was different.

He was worried—

You rub at your cheek—numb with the cold and curl into yourself. Din was worried. Easily the most feared bounty hunter in the parsec, worried that he couldn’t find you.

A different cold—one that settles deep into the marrow of your bones and hugs your soul with a sheet of frost, makes a home in your heart. The severity of what could’ve happened replaces that sheen of hilarity and fuck. You were closer to freezing to death than Din finding you here—alone in some stupid kriffing cave.

Somehow the idea of that is worse than the brief brush of eternal slumber you had on Nar Shaddaa. Up to that point you expected to die young—no harm and no foul in it either. You had no attachments, no debt to pay—a drifter in an endless galaxy.

Now you’re here, buckling under the weight of mismanaged friendships and your uncanny skill at weaseling into any and all trouble.

Neither you or Din jump to fill the silence. The ashes of disaster settle in nicely with the frozen echo of an endless winter.

It’d been a couple hours shy from sunset when Din arrived, the sun providing weak light that hardly touched the mouth of the cave. Now as the shadows grow longer and with the temperature dropping, the two of you are swallowed up by the unyielding darkness of night.

Din shuffles and fishes out the solar light from his supply bag. It clicks on and warm, orange light illuminates the cave. It bounces off his beskar, fracturing the light like a million tiny suns in the tempered metal and in the impossibly dark visor. He looks up, and tosses the light over.

You catch it easily and despite the warmness of the light it emits, it offers no heat for your chilled fingers. You set it to the side and tuck your hands into your armpits.

By no means is the cave warm—the natural thermal vents kept the ground dry and free of the ice and snow that rages outside, but it doesn’t protect you from the occasion chilly draft that cuts through each layer you wear. Then again, you weren’t planning on taking an unexpected vacation on Csilla. No time to plan really.

You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest and cast a glance at your ever radiant ray of sunshine across from you.

He looks nice and cozy—leaned back against the cave wall, one leg crossed over the other while his hands sit intertwined just below his navel. The beskar must provide insulation—maybe a fancy heater in that bucket of his, or maybe he’s just too stubborn to show anything other than indifference.

Another bout of shivers tear through your frame and you’re certain Din can hear the enamel of your teeth clack together. You shove your hands deeper into your armpits and tuck your chin into your chest to preserve heat and pray that sleep isn’t far off—can’t be cold if you’re unconscious.

Metal scrapes over stone as Din readjusts himself and you can feel him looking at you. It’s not a terrible weight to bear; intense and analytic, sure and in the past it would’ve unnerved you. Now, instead of it feeling like he were peeling back each fibre of your soul each time he stares, it’s familiar. A pattern of sorts—

It happens each time Din wrestles with an uncertain question. He deals in absolutes, and it’s no surprise he rarely knows what to say to you.

“You’re shivering,” he states. You roll your eyes. “Are you cold?”

“Boiling, actually,” you snip. “Why else would I forget a jacket?”

A sharp hiss of air crackles through the vocoder. “Don’t get mouthy with me. It was a simple question.”

“Well—there’s not much to do about it,” you sneer, watching your breath condensate in the air. “I’m freezing, exhausted, and hungry.”

You know you’re being snide—but your nerves feel like they’ve been severed at the root with a dull vibroblade. You have neither the time nor energy to spare for simple questions. Din should understand that—seeing as he’s a man familiar with short temperament.

The space between you is ripe with crackling tension, and maybe—if you weren’t so fucking cold—you’d play the mediator. Thread stitches into the gash you both sliced into your friendship, as small it may be. You’ve lost friends over less—this could end up no different.

You sigh and turn your head. This is a problem for tomorrow.

Irritated and upset, you squeeze your eyes shut and chase after sleep. You slip in a doze faster than expected, any and all discomfort fading away a you toe the line between a deeper sleep and waking dreams. You think you imagined Din saying your name—Maker you can’t even escape him in your own fucking head—

It doesn’t end—like a nagging buzz that swells until it’s right near your ear. Spite spurs you to ignore It and exhaustion convinces you to drift further away. That is, until a hand, gentle and warm curls around your shoulder. You once again hear your name rumble low through Din’s helmet, but it’s much too difficult to open your eyes. Why can’t he leave you be? You barely feel the cold now…

“Stay awake.” Din sounds distant, in some other plane of existence despite the steady hold he has on your arm. “Maker—you’re colder than kriffing ice.”

“Go away,” you grumble through numb lips. Such a pest.

He’s talking—but the words don’t make sense. Muddled—split between that hazy line of dreaming and consciousness where you can’t decipher what’s real. His hands however—you can feel those plain as day. A bare palm cups your cheek—shreds through the layer of frost you’re positive has crystalized over your skin and rouses you to a more coherent level of presentness.

“Don’t quit on me yet—“

“Nah,” you mumble. “I’m hard to…to kill. L-like a scrap rat…”

Din grunts in response. “Rat is a compliment. You’re more of a spider-roach.”

The ends of your mouth quirk. It’s the best you can do—a full smile just might push you to the brink of death.

“C’mon—I won’t let either of us freeze,” Din sighs. His fingers find the magnetized latches on his cuirass and it slips off with practiced ease, the armored thigh plating following a moment later. He neatly sets it to the side and grabs his cloak to fasten it around you. With another sigh, Din shuffles in behind you and wraps an arm around your middle, nestling his legs and body snuggly around yours.

Maker—you don’t have time to bother about the intimacy of this because all you’re drawn to is the furnace like heat. Fuck, he’s so warm. You have only a second to enjoy it before your body begins to thaw—bringing forth waves of achey pain.

His chest molds to your back, both arms curling over your own arms that are scrunched up tight around your chest. You shake in his hold, vicious waves of cold clashing against his body heat—it hurts—like sticking your bare foot into hot coals.

You squirm, little gasps of discomfort slipping out that echo around the cave. Din shifts, tucking you further under his body until he’s nearly crushing you. It’s a bit tricky to breathe like this but hey—you’re not complaining. Not when your nose is buried in his soft undershirt that smells purely of Din.

Your fingers and toes still throb as they thaw, but it’s working. Cuddling Din Djarin to stave off hypothermia—sounds kriffing ridiculous.

“You’re still shivering,” he says. “I might…”

Your breath catches in your throat as he trails off. “Might what?”

Another shiver wracks through your body as his frosty helmet catches on bare skin when he dips his head in embarrassment. You don’t quite catch what he says and he doesn’t bother to clarify. “Forget it.”

You turn your head as much as you can, straining your eyes to meet the strip of visor. “Tell me.”

He mumbles under his breath again and cuddles closer, slotting his hips against your ass. “Might know…know another way to keep us warm…”

Oh.

A spark breathes to life in the pit of your tummy. You wiggle onto your back, your nose brushing the vizor. “Does it involve me taking off my pants?”

Din huffs, his hands, previously latched onto your hips, starting to crawl up your waist. “It could…”

You smirk and rock your hips back, eliciting a low growl that rumbles through his chest. With your whine of approval, Din’s hand slips between your legs and gives the meat of your inner thigh a squeeze. You let your knees fall open as far as they can in this position and it’s all Din needs to cup your cunt through the thin material of your trousers.

Crackling pleasure flood your veins as the heel of his palm grinds into your clit, and while the pressure is nice, it does nothing to satisfy. Only feeds the growing flames of desire with brittle kindling.

You pull at his undershirt and whimper, thrilled once his deft fingers, calloused and thick unlace your pants and yank far enough down to fit his hand. His fingers trace your outer lips, a ghost of a touch as arousal swells in your stomach. He parts your folds once your wetness begins to dribble out and coats his fingertips with your arousal.

Stars—you need him. You arch into him and whine. “Touch me. Din, please—“

You jerk as Din’s thumb swirls a slow circle over your clit, a rush of endorphins surging out like unrefined fire whiskey. Din’s head tilts to watch you writhe over his fingers and the sudden chill of his helmet touching the inside of your flushed neck steals away your next inhale. Goosebumps race down your entire being, adding to the influx of your excitement that pools in your lower belly.

Your hands tangle into his undershirt, pulling him closer until you can’t find where he begins and you end. His heart pounds in his chest, thrumming to the dance of your own heart that yearns to break free from your ribcage. Your breath catches when two of his thick fingers tease at your entrance. Your walls flutter around him as the slip in easily.

His fingers roll forward and stroke against something devastating inside of you, and he when his palm rolls back, it bumps against your clit with that divine firmness you need. Your cunt tightens around the two digits as they curl.

“Fuck. Can you hear yourself?” He pants, groping your breast to elicit a high pitched wail. “You always make—make such pretty noises.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and fuck. You’re already dipping head first into release. A moment later you’re arching into his chest as every muscle stiffens in a crescendo of bliss, your stuttered breathing harsh even to your own ears.

Your quick pants fog up his visor as Din rests the crown of his helmet on your forehead, the metal a cool relief to your flushed skin. He slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt, your chest still heaving with exertion as the last strands of your high fizzle and ebb away. Din shifts and and snakes his fingers, still shiny and wet with your arousal, beneath the lip of his helmet and sucks them clean with an appreciative groan.

“Fuck—“ You breathe, pushing your face into his hand as he cups your cheek. Din’s thumb brushes over your cheekbone and swings his leg over your hips to hoist himself over you.

“Do you remember...” He starts, his voice buzzing through the vocoder. His fingers tickle down your cheek and trace the parted outline of your lips. “When you let me taste you?”

You nod, and it’s all you’re able to do. You’re not even sure you can formulate words, let alone voice them right now.

Din’s thumb pulls at your plush bottom lip, and you can’t help but slide your tongue along the digit. He grunts and slips his thumb into the wet heat of your mouth. “I think about you every night…how you came on my tongue—”

Your stomach flips as a rush of arousal sweeps through your tummy. You groan and you’re half sure you’re gonna dissipate into the floor from how hot your cheeks burn. “Din—"

He continues without missing a beat.

“You were so fucking wet for me—dripped all over my hand,” he murmurs, nuzzling his helmet, still chilly and frosted over, into the crook of you neck. “I want to do it again—can I?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes his sentence. He wasn’t the only one longing for his head between your thighs on those long nights apart. Remembering those plush lips and addictive touches could only get you so far and well—he’s here now. You said it once and you’ll say it again—there’s no chance in hell you’d be passing up this opportunity.

Din lifts his head and as you watch the light glitter in the reflection of the beskar, a sudden stray thought ricochets into the forefront of your mind. “Din, the light—your helmet.”

He pauses, his body tensing as he mulls over his options. “It’s—I—it’s ok…It’ll be ok.”

Din inhales a stuttered breath and casts a brief glance over his shoulder. It’s a dim light, kicked into the corner and laying on its side. From this angle, his face would be partially obscured in shadow…but still. There are easier ways to go about this. Ways that don’t risk jeopardizing the very foundation of who he is—what he stands for and what he so devoutly follows.

To say you know anything about his religion is laughable. Everything you know can fit on the back of a thumbtack and even still, you’re sure that half of that is still based upon rumor and speculation. But this—what Din is hinting at, you know is not something to be taken lightly.

He’s stripping his soul bare for you—allowing you to glimpse at that bleeding heart of his he guards so securely within layers of flesh and bone and impenetrable beskar. Din is gifting you his trust and there’s no where else to put it except for the space beneath your breast bone.

Yet, even still—this could mean nothing at all. You have no way to know the exact magnitude of what this means to him. If he’s alright with this, who are you to question?

He mumbles one last thing about the light and sits up. Goosebumps rush up your bare skin at the loss of the heavy warmth of his body. You whine and curl up closer to his legs, greedy for any spare iota of heat like you’ve been denied it your entire life.

Maker you hate this fucking planet—

Your attention snaps back to Din when he makes a noise of uncertainty. His hands are cupped around his helmet—hesitant, nervous and you suspect if Din’s hands weren’t plastered so tight around the metal, he’d be shaking. You chew on your lip and prop yourself up.

Cautiously, so as not to startle, you reach up and curl your fingers around his wrist. You can feel his pulse thrumming through his veins—alive, flesh and bone like you. Not some heap of sentient metal built for the horrors of war. You don’t know why you do it—just seems right to pull the fragile and vulnerable skin of his inner wrist to you mouth. You plant a gentle kiss there and smile when he cups your cheek.

“You don’t owe me anything, Din,” you say, staring into the darkened depths of his visor. “Least of all this.”

Some of that tension held in Din’s shoulders melts. He utters something in that clipped language of his people, and the only thing you can make out is your name. He lurches foreword and fuck—you’re terrified for a split second he’s gonna cave your skull in but instead he lightly bumps the crown of his helmet over your forehead.

“I want to. For you—only you.”

Din doesn’t leave any time to unpack all of that. He sits up again, wraps his hands around the beskar—

The metallic thunk of the helmet reverberates through the cave like a crack of thunder.

You were right.

You can barely see his face—if you really look, you can see the murky outline of his nose, dark hair and a sliver of his tan skin that the light touches. Attractive—but you knew that already. You touch his cheek and smile, your thumb catching over wiry facial hair and soft skin. Din makes a sound low in his throat and pushes his cheek into your hand.

“I still want to taste you,” Din says, his voice richer when stripped of that tinny vocoder. You like listening to him speak without it, you think, and it’s a damn shame you never get to hear it. “Please.”

Before he can escape and fulfill that fantasy, you yank him into a blinding kiss. He kisses the same—all wild edges and with desperation lining each motion—but there’s a new found tenderness here. Like he’s savoring each gasp and every brush of skin you grace him with like it’s your last night left in the galaxy.

He breaks away from your mouth and peppers kisses and nips down your jaw, then lower as you arch and expose the bare skin of your throat. There’ll be a plethora of bruises tomorrow, and with no hope to cover them either but fuck it—Din can leave as many hickeys and teeth marks as he wants.

If not for the cold still latching onto your very soul, you’d ditch the shirt; give Din better access instead of him needing to shove a hand up under and grope at your breasts. He gives the fabric an annoyed tug, but it’s fruitless. There’s no use when there’s better things to be sought.

He shoves your shirt as far up as it goes, shivering as he mouths down your stomach, licks around your bellybutton and sucks a bruise onto your hipbone. Your pants are already pulled halfway down—one sharp yank and they’re around your ankles and off in the next breath.

Cupping your knees with both hands he gingerly spreads your legs and drapes them over his muscular shoulders. Din rubs his patchy haired cheek along your thigh and hooks his hands under your ass, his ivory white teeth catching the light as he smiles.

“Fucking perfect—“ He groans, planting his lips over your inner thigh. His tongue swipes a wet line up, stopping just before your aching cunt to dig his teeth into the sensitive flesh. You jump at the burst of pain and shoot a hand down, tangling your fingers into the soft curls atop his head.

Din grunts and jumps to your other thigh, leaving no inch of skin neglected and without evidence of his teeth and lips. By the time his thumbs touch the outer lips of your cunt, the aching need for him is burning you from the outside in. He has to still your twitching hips with a calloused palm, and only after you settle does he surge forward.

His tongue meets your swollen clit, ripping a tangled cry from you vocal cords. He’s just as eager as the first time he tasted you, if not more—every action backed by needy abandon. He sucks at the bundle of nerves then sweeps his tongue lower. Din’s thumbs part your lower lips as he runs his tongue though your soaked folds, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit that send delicious sparks throughout your whole body. Little noises and breathy gasps fill the cave, encouraging Din to push his tongue deep into your aching entrance.

Your hand fists into his hair as your hips stutter and rock into the searing heat of his mouth. The noises you make are obscene, and Din is no better. Each pass of his tongue over your pussy is matched with his own deep moans that vibrated against your clit. Fucking hell he’s devouring you alive.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, robs you blind and crashes over you in deep waves that drag you out to sea and never to be found again as you spill onto his greedy tongue. Your fingers are threaded tight in his hair as you squeak and press harder into his mouth, riding out your pleasure until it shifts and becomes raw and sore.

Din doesn’t pause for even a second—all too happy to stay put between your thighs for eternity. Your legs are trembling when you force his head away, a nice, tingly warmth settling into your limbs

A dark thrill rushes down your spine when he looks up, wild hair and mouth covered in your slick. If not for the low lighting you imagine his eyes would be glazed over and Maker you want him again. Din swoops down and presses his mouth to yours, the taste of yourself heavy on his tongue that slips past the seem of your lips.

You whine after he breaks away and sits up—an opportunity for your eyes to roam down his body. He’s still got his trousers on, a considerable bulge tenting the front. With a smirk you reach up and grab a handful, delighting in Din’s startled grunt. “Easy.”

You flash him a wry smile and give his clothed cock a playful squeeze. “Take them off.”

Din huffs and pulls at the drawstrings. “Needy.”

He says it with no bite and no coquettish retort on your end springs to mind—especially when his thumbs hook into the waistband and pull. A slow reveal of sun-kissed skin and a sparse happy trail that your eyes eagerly drink up.

Din’s cock bobs as his trousers fall around his knees, tip shiny and wet and curling towards his navel. You bite the inside of your cheek and reach out, a rush of arousal pulsing through your core at Din’s low moan. He’s heavy in your hand, deliciously thick and throbbing—and all of it for you.

Din gasps out your name as you lightly squeeze and stroke down, your pace dreadfully slow and teasing. Who knows when you’ll get another chance like this—a Mandalorian willingly on their knees for you.

Your other hand slips up his chest as you stroke him, intent on grabbing a handful of his thick hair that curls softly against the column of his neck. Your fingernail lightly scrapes across his nipple and he sways, pitching forward before he catches himself and straightens. Din’s eyes are squeezed tight, chest heaving with shallow pants as a smirk tugs at your lips.

“It’s ok, Din,” you whisper. “I won’t break.”

Your fingers twist into the hair at the base of his skull and guide him back. He slumps forward with a sweet moan, laying his weight onto your body that you’re all too happy too bare. His nose is nestled into the slope of your neck as his hands lock around the dip of your lower back while the other cradles the back of your head, drawing you into a loose semblance of a hug.

Something snaps and crumbles deep in your soul that bleeds the heartstring blues, humming with broken chords in the presence of Din’s soft fragility. Your hand moves from between his legs to instead wrap around the wide expanse of his back, squeezing him tight to your chest. You hold each other like there isn’t tomorrow to look forward to and you wonder if this is how it feels to fall apart. Two spinning halves of a supernova torn apart and destined to collide and shatter into a million fragments of dazzling light.

Yes, you’re scared he might blind you or burn you with his brilliance, but you can’t look away.

Your fingers crawl up his muscled thigh and settle on his hip. “Lie down for me?”

There’s no hint of hesitation or complaint as he maneuvers himself onto his back, patiently allowing you to clamber over his legs and straddle his hips. His cock rests on your inner thigh, pulsing and leaving a dribble of wetness every time it twitches.

“Good boy.” It’s subtle but it ripples out like a heavy stone thrown into a still lake. Din shudders and says your name in a cracked whisper. He rolls his hips, both of you groaning at the sensation of his cock running along your dripping center.

Another time for that game maybe.

Your desperation is running hot and wild to have him inside you and you know he’s in a similar boat. You grab the thick shaft of his cock and grind the tip of him through your lips, breath hitching when it extracts such a perfect moan from the man below you.

“Ride me,” he pleads, clamping his large hands over your hips. “Fuck—I need you.”

How can you deny such a request?

You line the wide head up with your aching center and slowly work him in. Shivers wrack through you, and Maker—he’s splitting you apart, molding your insides to the shape of him. Beads of sweat dot your hairline by the time you’re seated fully on his member, the both of you pushed even closer towards madness.

Din squeezes your ass and props his knees up, rolling his hips up into you. You whimper and tip forward, propping your palms over his chest as he sets the pace. You may be on top but there’s no changing the bold colors of power and lust that cloud his mind, fueling the brutal movements of fucking up into you. Your thighs burn already and Maker—why the fuck are you already tired? You’re not doing any of the work.

Quicker than lightning, Din curls forward and manhandles you onto your back. You squeak as he grips your thigh and yanks it around his narrow hips, thrusting in deeper. His right hand crawls up the front of your shirt and wraps his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. His thumb hovers over the dip at the base of your neck but he makes no move to press down—just allows the weight of his palm to do the work. And fuck—it works.

Choked garbles of his name pass through your lips as you buck and squirm in his hold, feeling your arousal begin to drip down the back of your thighs. You’re skirting the edge of sizzling release that alights your nerves with liquid wildfire. Your nails harpoon into the meat of his shoulders as your eyes squeeze shut. Din won’t allow it.

“Look at me,” Din snarls, yanking your head back by your hair. “I want to—to watch you cum for me.”

A blush scalds your cheeks but you listen. Your eyes flutter open for him, sliding to the dark shadows of his eyes that sweep you into their own gravity well with no hope to escape. You don’t mind.

“You’re so g-good for me—always so perfect.”

White hot light bursts behind your eyelids, and that’s all it takes. Your body seizes, your cunt squeezing impossibly tight around his cock as you cum. This one is different—steals your breath away and leaves you a broken husk of a person lost in most delectable forms of agony and pleasure. The cry of his name pierces the air only spurring the Mandalorian into a jarring pace to seek his own peak of ecstasy.

Din’s nose nuzzles into your neck, his pants hot and sharp against your flushed skin. “You f-feel so—fuck. Say—say my name.”

You leap to his request and with a playful nip to his earlobe, you whisper it to him with the sweetness of starcherrries and the promise of better things.

He tips over the edge, his hips faltering into no discernible pace as he cums. Din buries his teeth into the skin below your jaw, a mess of whines and begging gasps of nonsense as he fills your cunt to the brim.

Your harsh breathing mingles as you both lazily slip down from your high. He rests his head over your sternum, listening to your beating heart that drums in a wild staccato as your fingers carefully comb through his hair. If not for the ache in your hips you’d keep him here forever. Din pulls out and you both groan at the loss.

He doesn’t completely move away and you’re glad for it. He brushes his knuckles down the expanse of your cheek and dots a tender kiss to your hairline. Your name rumbles low in his throat as he shifts lower and gives your ear lobe a playful nip. His stubble scrapes along your neck, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm—but the weight of his body keeps you pinned. Your name slips from his lips a second time, breathy and drawn out in a sweet sigh, like he’s savoring the sound of each syllable and roll of the tongue.

Din lifts his head, only slightly—near enough that his nose bumps into yours and his lips scrape along yours that are still parted and wet. “I—can I tell you something?”

You cup his cheek and steal a kiss. It’s supposed to be quick—but instead he leans into it, guiding your mouth into a slow dance of sticky sweet movements that are caught in a slow draw, like crystalized honey abandoned in a glass jar. You’re enraptured by his touch—his skin mottled with scars yet somehow still unfairly soft. He smells of snow—like metal and soap and something gentler, that’s uniquely Din.

Fuck—you can feel your mind slipping away, wrapped up so snugly in his presence you almost forget to answer. “Yeah—anything.”

Crackling static suddenly rips through the cave, startling you both. A distorted voice chatters on the comlink that lies forgotten beside your pants. It blinks and the transmission ends just as abruptly. With a sigh Din brushes it off and tilts his head to tempt you into another kiss but—

Whoever’s trying to patch through is persistent.

His lip curls in a scowl and snatches the comm. “Jorhaa’ir.”

You only catch your name being mentioned twice as rapid Mando’a is exchanged. Aeris maybe judging by the tone, but no that’s not right.

“Wait—is that Paz?”

The muscles in Din’s shoulders tense, confirming your suspicion.

“Is everything ok?” Din doesn’t resist you when you pry the comlink out of his fingers and patch in. “Paz?”

Your heart skips a beat.

“There you are,” the comlink crackles and you smile. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

Stars—you didn’t think you’d miss hearing Paz’s voice. Your chest aches.

The conversation is short, he asks you how you are and when you’re coming home and in the time it takes to answer, Din is peeling himself from your body. While you're distracted, he pulls on his pants and sits at the edges of your vision.

You both pretend when you say goodnight to Paz, return the comlink and crawl into his arms that nothing has festered with savage detachment. You don't remember to ask him what he was going to say and he lets you forget. The golden heart that bleeds molten ichor slips from your sight and becomes shut behind walls of beskar and bushes of thick thorns and overgrown ivy.

He still holds you, but it’s the coldest you’ve ever been.

Tag List: @teaofpeach @corrupt-fvcker @nelba @datmando @ben-is-a-hoe @dreams-like-clockwork @aeryns-library @auty-ren @huliabitch @anxiety-riddled-mando @phoenixhalliwell @cptnbvcks @thesoftdumbass @krissology @starlite41 @legally-a-bastard @basslinedweller @cloud-of-roses @elenamiria @goldafterglow @maybege @equalstrashflavoredtrash @wandxrlust @hdlynnslibrary @calamity-queen @sgtbookybarnes @pinkninja190 @lackofhonor @darthstyles @spacegayofficial @absurdthirst @blue-writes-a03 @max--phillips

#din is a certified bottom #ANYWAY welcome to pound town #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader x paz vizla #paz vizla x reader #paz vizla x you #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #star wars #sw #fanfiction #sw fanfiction #my writing #are you in or out?

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noritoshiikamo · 4 years

Text

this is how you fall in love

pairing: kuroo tetsuroo + fem!oc genre: friends into lovers fluff with slight suggestive end tags//warning: nothing major // slight suggestive at the end if you squint enough note: the obligatory trio of mine: not well edited, lowercase intended, english isnt my first language im sorry if i murder it. o wow look ive been posting back to back, ive been writing nonstop lately watch me ghost my stories in few weeks guys my brain = rotting, plus lately ive been feeling emotionally abuseddrained so i need something fluffy

listen to this is how you fall in love by jeremy zucker + chelsea cutler for maximum feels

“you’re a lifesaver.”

kuroo huffed, eyes rolling back with a small laugh as he unlaced his sneakers and slipped the room slipper on. it was odd to see the gymnasium without any nets or balls sprawled around. the gym has been closed for a week now in preparation for the upcoming open school event and currently under the art club’s jurisdiction. under her jurisdiction with her canvases and paints and it pained him to see her ruining his sacred place. he carried two plastic bags and holding two boba teas in the same hand. he wasn’t sure which one she was more excited for; the boba, the paints she made him ran to an art supply shop or him. she reached out, the bobas in his hand exchanged as she settled it on the floor, and she squealed at the sight of the plastic bag. he frowned.

yup, not him.

tins of different colors of paint that she ran out mid painting that she forgot to buy had her dialing his number and now it’s all here. all thanks to kuroo tetsuro. she grimaced at the price tags; it was costly than her usual one. usually, she would’ve gotten her supplies online, but desperate measure calls for desperate solution. she could always claim her expenses with the club. typical kuroo, she huffed. he always preached about getting the best, not minding the price tags but she’ll be the victim of his nonstop complaining that he’s getting broke every single day. she tucked a stray hair back and mentally counted how much she owed the man as she arranged the tins on the table.

kuroo noticed that look; same look she had when they are in the math class and he clicked his tongue, “tch, you’re not paying.”

“i’m reimbursing you with the club money,” she shook her head and reached for her bag, “please kuroo, it’s so expensive.”

he reached for her wrist and she dropped the tote bag as he invaded her space. kuroo rested the palm of her hand right above his heart, his own around the waist and another under her chin as he tilted her chin up. his heartbeat was erratic, and she flushed. “it’s okay,” he said, softly. her lips formed into a small pout and he fought the urge to just kiss her.

their dynamic is something even kenma couldn’t figure it out.

they weren’t exactly dating. they are friends, close friends, and classmates. it has always been him, her and occasionally yaku; creating the chaotic duo/trio of class 5. they both played volleyballs, both captains while he’s the middle blocker, she’s their female team’s setter. they knew a lot of each other’s friends from other schools; he was the reason why she dated akaashi keiji from the first place. it was selfish of kuroo to admit to bokuto a month after they started dating that he disliked the idea of them together. typical kuroo is no longer snarky, he felt lost, felt like he was losing his other half. so, he confided to his close friend, the simpleton ace.

“you didn’t make any moves, kuroo, you can’t blame them.”

bokuto noted as them both stared at the two setters, playing around the fallen cherry blossoms. bokuto never seen akaashi smiled that much and kuroo could only wished that she smiled the same way to him. kuroo stared at the half bitten onigiri he’d been holding, suddenly every bite he took tasted bitter. every trace of akaashi on her gave him bitter taste. she liked wearing akaashi’s jersey; kuroo longed to see her in his own numbered jersey; she’s his number one after all. her own jersey number is as same as akaashi. it’s not like kuroo could hate anything he did; he treated her well. akaashi was a perfect boyfriend and everyone knew. that’s why kuroo hates him; he gave him no reason to hate the dude. it didn’t last long however, they drifted apart 6 months later, sending her to kuroo’s doorstep soaked in rain.

he stared at her soaked figure with no thoughts in mind.

“he dumped me,” she said, voice hoarse and shivering.

he was alone and was about to leave for kenma’s, but he couldn’t leave her alone. dropping his keys on the small table by the door, he threw his jacket back in the closet. “come in,” he whispered, pulling her figure in. dropping her bag on the floor, she clutched on his sleeves as she kicked off her soaking shoes. “i’m sorry, my mom isn’t home and i can’t find my keys,” she was a blabbering mess and he hushed her. he left her for a few minutes, coming back with a steaming towel and a clean shirt and pants. “it’s from the dryer. you can borrow my sister’s clothes,” grabbing her hands, they ran upstairs where he took her to the bathroom. she was too quiet, so he called her name. when she looked up to him, her eyes were red. she was no longer crying, more confused and upset. her cheeks flushed and he could see her teeth chattering. he wished nothing but to throw his fist at the man. finally, he got a reason to square up the stoic man; he always hates the way nothing could riled up akaashi.

“he’s stupid for doing you like this.”

she shook her head, “it’s nobody’s fault.”

“then stop blaming yourself,” he ruffled her hair, a small smile appeared from the corner of her lips as she watched him disappeared closing the door behind him. he left her with the hot water running, urgently grabbing the mop and bucket from the kitchen, and wiping the trail of her soaked feet has left before it could ruin the wooden floor.

cant come over, busy, ill tell u later

kuroo texted kenma. the pudding head left him on read.

they spend the night together, sitting on the floor with pillows pilling against the end of the bed as they sat in arms. he had his tv opened to one of the late-night game show. they sat in silence, her head rested on his shoulder and her lips pressed into a tiny line. at the corner of his eyes, he could see her phone’s notifications blaring despite being on mute. the number isn’t saved but it was familiar. she deleted his number already, probably out of rage, but it’s a good step.

tell me where you want me to drop your stuff im sorry i hope youre okay y/n? i heard it was storming did you make it back home? give me a call im calling you okay?

just as like what the message stated, the unknown number called her. it startled her which startled him too. she stared down on the screen, he noticed the grip on the phone and wondered how the phone did not break yet. “can you answer it for me?” she said, holding the phone out to the black-haired man. shocked, he took the phone and pressed the green button. he pressed the phone to his ear and heard her name being called.

“hey man,” kuroo cleared his throat, “listen-”

“she’s with you?” the voice- akaashi asked.

looking down on the girl who was pretending to not have any interest in the call at all, eyes focused on the gameshow, kuroo sighed.

“she is. listen, i think you should leave her alone.”

“kuroo, i know about your feelings. for her. bokuto-san told me about it. if you think that this is the proper way to get her when she’s vulne-”

kuroo bit the inside of his cheeks. he was offended that akaashi dared to call him out like that. “so, what? she made her pick,” the girl turned to face him, brows up wondering what they are talking about.

“that’s low, even for you, kuroo-san.”

their eyes met. he didn’t even realize how deep the cut on his palm where he had balled his fingers into a fist until she touched it. he calmed down. “you hurt her. you have no right to say what’s low or not. be a bigger man, leave her alone,” he muttered flatly, before ending the call. they didn’t break eye contact until he realized what he had done.

“i-i shouldn’t have done that.”

she shook her head, “stop blaming yourself,” a small smile on her face.

that was 3 months ago.

kuroo had made moving on easy for her. akaashi and her remained friendly, although kuroo noticed that she tended to avoid him when possible. the breakup was indeed mutual, but merely on the fact that he lost feelings. akaashi had fallen out of love with her and in love with some other girl but who was she to judge when she was falling in love with the rooster head in silence. they still hang out with bokuto and akaashi but rarely with the latter.

she made him apologized to the fukurodani’s setter too and they remained on friendly term, still practiced together whenever they have training camps together where akaashi had admitted one training night that kuroo and her looks better together. kuroo didn’t say anything, not that he knew what to reply to that (his mind scream fuck yeah we do) but shrugged at his statement. “i guess dating her made you less pain in the ass, kuroo-san,” akaashi joked as they resumed the game.

kuroo was pulled back to reality when he felt his lips brushed against something. his eyes widened when he realized what it was. a quick kiss from her. he blinked frantically, trying to comprehend what had just happened which caused the girl to laugh. “did you just?” he asked confused by what had just happened which she nodded. she bit her bottom lip to hold herself from bursting into a laugh. “god, you should see your face. it’s so stupid. and every girl called you the playboy captain huh?”

he huffed and rolled his eyes, “i am not. i’ve been loyal to one girl for many years now, she is the one who hasn’t notice me at all,” he faked his pout, refused to look her directly in the eyes, praying that she wouldn’t notice his reddening cheeks.

“she must’ve been so stupid,” she teased, her nose rubbing gently against his jawline as she rested her figure against his closer. his chin rested against her head.

“she is,” he looked down on her, his arms around her waist tighter, “i don’t think she knows this but if she leaves me, i think i’ll be so broken inside. is it selfish to say that?” a small frown appeared on her face.

“i don’t think she ever talked about leaving you.”

a grin grew on his face, “so you know who i’m talking about huh?” she fell into his trap. she rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out, calling him stupid. he studied her face, his grin softened into what yaku and his volleyball team called the kuroo is stupidly in love with y/n but refused to admit face. his fingers ran into her hair which she had been growing out in few months down to her shoulder because she thinks that he likes her better that way. the way she tried to subtly put on make up to look better that the other girls who’s shamelessly flirting with him. she was too stupid to realize that he had loved her beyond that.

he loves the rough pads on her hands from holding her paintbrushes and volleyball. he loves that she works hard for everything she’s doing be it studying, volleyball or arts, she would put her blood, sweat and tears into it. he loves that she would wait for him to buy lunch so they can eat together in class. he would buy her a box of milk which she insisted that she doesn’t need too; but he convinced it would be good for her. he wants the best for her.

he loves that all the missing clothes he’s complaining about is in the back of her closet or on her. his cream hoodie hanging behind her closet door, his random pile of t-shirts in a basket on the floor of her closet that he liked to left beside the mix pile of her shoes and his one big ass nike shoes. her room isn’t messy, it is because she kept the messiness in her closet. she also like to keep random stuff of him too. the one medal he won from a science fair hung on the headboard of her bed, the misshapen looking hand wax sculpture of their hands intertwined from a funfair where she rested a purikura of them on it and a lucky bamboo plant he gave on her birthday to compromise on the no gift rule.

“for luck,” he grinned.

unlike hers, he kept her item neatly in his drawer. your spare shirts that he borrowed and refused to return, extra towel and her toiletries, some of her drawing blocks and a small cat shaped pouch where she kept her allergies medication. mostly hidden because his annoying friends come over often and would accidentally talk about it in front of his grandparents. but, on his bedside table, he has a cup of pencils by the bed where he collected the art supplies she left behind, random markers and paintbrushes, a clay sculpture of a trinket plate she made from art club (she carved a tiny letter k in the corner beside the obvious looking genitalia drawing) and a fake plant which she was sure he will not be able to kill it.

he loves it when she wore his jersey. he lost his mind when he found out that her current season number is the same as his. he’s in love. the first time he saw her in his jersey, the number one jersey on her body was during their training. he lost concentration; mouth hung a bit. he got so flustered that he let lev served the ball straight to his head. usually, lev would be dead by now, but he doesn’t mind. his nose bled but to see her kneel beside him, clutching on his own shirt screaming how stupid he is, wiping the blood away with towel, he could only say how pretty she looked. all his teammates were startled, her included. she clutched on his collar angrily; her knees stung from when she leaped down to his side, but this idiot could only smile at her with a bloody nose. “you are fucking idiot,” she cried out angrily, pushing him away before throwing the towel on his face leaving the pleased third year laying on the floor.

he loves the way she would find a way to impress him, be it as ridiculous as the halloween costume idea she had where they’ll go as the front and end of a horse or as serious as the submitted college application to the same university he had gotten into. “you are not getting rid of me that easily, tetsu,” the evil look on her face as she clicked the submit button send shivers down his spine.

“if you leave, i think i’ll cry,” he confessed, his smile slowly died.

“kuroo tetsuro is going to cry after me?” she teased. he nodded eagerly. “does kuroo tetsuro realized that we are literally moving into the same university? i couldn’t catch a break from him,” she faked her annoyance which he playfully avenged by sending her on the floor laughing as he tickled her. tears trickled down her cheeks as she begged him to stop, screaming to get away from his grip. “please, kuroo, i’m going to pee if you don’t stop!” he obliged, tears prickled the corner of his own eyes from laughing too much. straddling her waist, he gathered her wrists in one hand over her head. “apologize and said that kuroo tetsuro is the best man in your life or i swear i’ll make you pee,” he threatened her playfully, wiggling the fingers of his free hand close to her waist. her eyes widened in fears.

“that’s not fair!”

“apologize first.”

“fine!” she pouted, “i’m sorry, i won’t make fun of you again. now get off me!”

he raised his eyebrow, “andddd?”

“annddd-” a teasing smile appeared on her face as she said the next 5 words that send him to mars and back; “i love you kuroo tetsuro.”

he froze in shock. he heard the words before but never in this way; never for him.

finally, i think i got the calculation, love you yaku! lev you’re adorable but so stupid, i love it! thank you for letting me borrow your game, kenma. you’re the best, love ya!

the grip on her wrists loosened. taking advantage of his shock state, she pushed him back, straddling him by the waist, pinning his own hands above his head, giving him the taste of his own medicine. “i’m not going to leave your sorry ass, tetsu. i hope you don’t regret it,” she leaned down, capturing his lips with a longer kiss. letting go of his wrist, her hand went immediately into his rooster hair while another cupped his cheek, deepening their kiss. she could feel his cold palm resting against her bare waist and she shuddered. between the kisses, he heard her whispering his name. “kuroo, do you love me too?” she asked so innocently with kisses between the words but the way she grabbed a handful of his hand in a fist felt so dirty, eliciting a strangled moan from the back of his throat. she pulled back, staring down on his eyes as his lips moved.

“i love you too.”

nothing in his hazel eye but sincerity. he groaned when she pulled herself out of his reach, missing her warm body as she laughed. straightening her sweater back, pulling her hair back up into a tighter ponytail before she picked up the paintbrush she dropped. the paintbrush left a white stain on the court. as if kuroo wasn’t here, whimpering underneath her a minute ago, she continued her work. “i need to finish the mural by this week and you’re not exactly helping me,” she warned him, pointing the wet brush his direction. through the corner of her eyes, he was propped on his elbows, still staring at her, causing her to blush profusely. it annoyed him that she would tease him, then leaving him high and dry. before she could crack open the new paint tin, he ignored her warning as he tackled her back into his arms.

breathless against her lips, he told her to continue later. the urgency and rawness of his voice made her putty immediately. looking up the man, she pouted her lips.

“kuroo-san,” she whined as he captured her bottom lips.

he elicited a soft moan from the girl. he grinned against her lips. a hand rested firmly beside her head while another snaked under the sweater. there will be bruise tomorrow, she was sure of it, he will make sure of it.

“it will be quick, baby. i promise.”

she has no objection.

#kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro imagine #haikyuu x reader #hq #haikyuu #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro fluff #haikyuu x y/n #kuroo tetsurou x reader #writing: hq #writing: fics

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viking-raider · 4 years

Text

The Immortal Sky - Part IV

Summary: Henry tracks down people that could help him find you, not realizing just how close to you he is. You make it outside the wall of London, entering the wild expanse between it and Bristol.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/You

Word Count: 8,000

Chapters: I II III

Warning: PG-13 - Future!AU, Dystopian!AU, Language, Abuse of Power, Angst, Mentions of Violence and Drugs

Inspiration: I’ve always wanted to write a futuristic fic!

A/N: I would love to thank @wondersofdreaming for being a lovely beta and brainstorm buddy! You’ve kept me sane so many times! Please, Tell Me What You Think!!

“What do you know about Michail Keagan, Mr. Parker?” Henry said, sitting across from your twin brother's Supervisor at his assigned place of work.

“He's a fucking loser.”

The Supervisor laughed, shaking his head at the table between them. “He might spend a whole hour here for his shifts, other than that he's missing in action. I've reported him to the Council of Daily Operations numerous times, but they don't care because he still clocks in, despite it only being for that one hour.”

“So, he knows how to cheat the system.” Henry nodded, chewing on his lip, frustrated.

“Him and that equal loser friend of his, who's supposed to be working for us, but got himself transferred to his family's hole-in-the-wall restaurant.” Parker huffed, rolling his eyes.

“What friend?” Henry frowned, leaning against the table on his elbows.

“Theodore 'Teddy' Wang.” Parker replied. “He's a dishwasher for Wang's Take-Away.”

“Thanks.” Henry said, standing up and extending his hand to Parker, then made his way to the Chinese restaurant.

“Hi, how can I help you?” Jinyu asked from behind the register, smiling as Henry stopped in front of her.

“I'm looking for your son, Teddy Wang.” Henry replied, glancing behind her.

The smile on Jinyu's face melted away, she could tell by the way Henry looked and held himself that he was part of the Marshals Council. “He's not here today.”

Henry sighed, pressing his palms to the nicked counter top and leaned all his weight on his arms, bringing his piercing blue gaze to hers. “Mrs. Wang,” He said softly. “I'm not here to arrest your son, even if he's doing something that warrants it. All I want from him is answers to my questions. It's that simple, unless you and your son want to make it complicated.” He explained to her.

Jinyu stared at Henry for a long time, before rolling her eyes and pointing to the beaded curtain behind her. She knew if she didn't comply, Henry could make a load of trouble for her back at the Council, and she, her family and their business didn't need that. Henry nodded his head to her and stepped around the counter, parting the rattling beads as he stepped into the back of the restaurant and found Teddy there, doing what he was always doing; washing dishes.

“Teddy Wang?” He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, who wants--” Teddy started, setting the plate in his hand down and turned towards Henry, drying his hands on his filthy apron. “Oh shit!” He yelped, seeing the imposing Henry, and spun around, tripping over his feet, before catching himself on the edge of the sink and bolting out the back door of the restaurant.

Sighing through his nose and dropping his arms, Henry went after Teddy, quickly catching up to the kid in the trash filled alley, trying to scale a chain-link fence. He easily reached up, grabbing the back of Teddy's shirt and yanked him off the fence, before slamming his back against the grimy wall of his parents' restaurant.

“Look, I ain't got nothin'!” He barked at Henry, squirming.

“Is that so?” Henry smirked, deciding to have a little fun on Teddy's expense. “That's not what I heard.” He shoved a hand into the front pocket of Teddy's faded jeans. “Oh, what's this?” He grinned, pulling out a small, dime-sized bag from the pocket, a sky-blue powder inside of it.

“That's just Naproxen tablets, they must have gotten crushed.” Teddy gulped, looking like a caught sheep.

“Right.” Henry laughed, opening the bag and dumping it out onto the wet ground, then rubbing it out with the sole of his boot.

“Oh, come on, man!” Teddy whined, slumping back against the wall. “That's expensive.”

“Really? I thought Naproxen was only five creds?” Henry replied, tilting his head at the boy.

“One cred is too expensive down here, you'd know that, if you lived in this hell hole too.” Teddy sneered at him. “Marshal.”

Henry smirked at Teddy. “I wanna talk about Mikey Keagan.” He said, cutting to the chase.

“Oh fuck that!” He snapped, shaking his head. “I am getting tired of being roped into their fucking issues.”

“Their?”

“Yeah, their!” Teddy spat. “Mikey tries to rope me into his Running operations and his sister, the last time I saw her, she held me up at knife point, until I told her where her brother went.”

“When was this? That she held you up?” Henry asked, not buying his story about you holding him at knife point.

If only he knew.

“Eight or nine months ago.” Teddy replied. “Mike got into a fight with his parents about becoming a Runner for Jaxon Quinn, over in Sector Three of Bristol, and went down to the Thirty Sectors to stay with a friend. Issy comes by, a week later, and holds me up, until I tell her what friend he's staying with. Gave her shortcuts around the gates and everything.”

“What's the friend's name?” Henry asked, narrowing his eyes as he processed the story.

“Fynn Penmark.”

Henry looked Teddy over. “I'll let you off for having the Sub-Blue. But, if I ever find out you're in possession of it again, I'll make sure you're banished so far outside the walls of London, you'll be on a different fucking continent.” He threatened, pressing Teddy to the wall with a palm to the chest.

“Got it?” He hissed.

“Got it.” Teddy gulped, licking his lips and nodding his head, like a bobble-head.

“Good.” Henry pushed off of him and headed through the back door of the restaurant again.

“Hey, mister!” A boy on the street corner called out to Henry as he was unlocking his car.

“What!” Henry barked back at him.

“You lookin' for a girl?” He asked, and described you to him.

“That's her.” Henry nodded at him, leaning back against his car door. “What do you know about her?”

“What's in it for me?” The boy asked.

Henry chuckled, shaking his head. “What's your name, kid?”

“Oscar.”

“Well, Oscar.” Henry sighed, rubbing his forehead and carding his fingers through his hair. “What do you want for the information?”

Oscar looked around him and pointed back to Wang's Take-Away. “Lunch. She already got me breakfast to see if any of her family was home.” He confessed.

Henry half smirked at the little boy and finally recognized him, so you had been in the area within the last three hours. “Fair enough.” He agreed to Oscar's terms. “Information first, then lunch.”

“She's looking for her brother, says he's in some kind of trouble, didn't say what.” Oscar told him, fidgeting. “Then, she told the Chinese lady to give me some food, got some for herself, then left.” He pointed to the East, toward Sector Twenty-Nine's gate. “That way.”

“All right, kid.” Henry sighed, satisfied with the information and pushed off the car, going back into the restaurant and let Oscar get some food and a drink, before heading towards Sector Twenty-Nine's gate.

He figured you were going to go find this Fynn Penmark's flat, to see if your brother was there, or what Fynn knew about Mikey's whereabouts. Henry gave you credit, you would make a damn good Marshal with the level of forward-thinking and intuition you had going on, in the case of finding your brother. He was also relieved to know that his own intuition about your brother being in some kind of serious trouble was all so right.

Now, to find you and learn the rest of the facts on the matter.

It took some doing, but you finally found out where Fynn Penmark lived. But, as you approached the opening in the wall separating Sector Thirty and Thirty-One, your heart started to race and pound, hands shaking and palms sweating, it became hard to breathe. You stopped and pressed your hands to your face, trying to push back the terrified tears that streaked hotly down your cheeks. You felt like you were breaking loose.

“Are you okay?” A voice nearby asked.

You started, stumbling away from the concerned looking woman. “Stay away from me!” You barked at her, gasping for air.

The woman looked wildly at you, palms held out to show you she meant no harm, but stayed where she was standing. You stared at her, taking huge lungfuls of air, trying to fight off the dizziness clouding your brain and the bright, blinking spots in your eyes. Your tears finally stopped, but your hands still shook, and you could breathe a little bit easier.

“I'm sorry.” You apologized to the lady. “It's been a hard day.”

“It happens.” She replied, lowering her hands. “Do you need to get somewhere?”

“I know where I'm going, thank you though.” You assured her, even if it was possible she didn't mean you any harm, you weren't going to risk it, like you had the last time you were in these Sectors.

“I hope you find what you're looking for.” She told you, honestly.

“So, do I.” You nodded to her, politely.

You waited for her to go back about her business, before finding the opening and slipping through it, careful not to cut yourself again. Eric gave you point by point directions to the shabby building that Penmark lived in. You weren't surprised to find the lift in his building was broken, so you found the stairwell entrance and started mounting them to the twelfth floor.

“Flat 1283-A, Ms.” Eric's voice said through your headphones.

You found the dented and scuffed up door of Fynn Penmark and pounded on it, until he finally opened it. It took everything you had not to just burst out laughing. “Are you Fynn Penmark?” You asked, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Who wants to know?”

He was gangly, face pockmarked from severe acne, that he was still clearly suffering from, his greasy black hair fell to his shoulders, his filthy clothes might have fit properly, if he weighed more than a kilogram, and with the slightest intake of air, you could tell he hadn't showered in a while, he smelled ripe.

“I'm looking for Mike.” You told him, breathing through your mouth.

“I don't know any Mike.” He said, then slammed the door in your face.

Rolling your jaw, you started pounding on his door again.

“Look, bitch.”

“Call me a bitch, and I'll crack your head open with your own door.” You growled at him, heated. “I'm looking for Mikey, he's my brother. My twin brother.”

Fynn looked you over, then cracked a smile. “Oh, I see it now.” He chuckled, leaning against his door. “I haven't seen Mike in a week.”

“Do you know where the idiot's gone?” You asked him, folding your arms over your chest.

“His new handler, Knox Monroe, picked him up from here, as I said, a week ago, to take him to Bristol.”

“How long does it take to get to Bristol?”

“Depending on your transportation, anywhere from three hours to two days.”

“How do you take the three hour trip?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Have someone with a car pick you up and take you there.” He laughed, still smirking at you. “And I'm sure you don't. So, you'll be walking, and that's the two day option.”

“Doesn't seem so bad.” You sighed, frowning at the thought of walking that far.

“Are you stupid?” Fynn snapped, suddenly agitated. “Have you ever been outside the wall? Have you ever seen outside the wall? It's not rainbows and puppies out there. It's a barren fucking wasteland with pocket groups, that are more like feral wolves than humans, that would jump you, rob you and leave you for dead; if they didn't kill you in the process.”

“Have you been out there?” You asked him, chewing on your lip.

“Countless times.” Fynn nodded. “I make the run to Bristol, at least, once a month.”

“Can you take me?” You asked him, hopefully.

“No.” Fynn shook his head at you. “I've already made my run for the month and I don't take tag-alongs.”

“Can you tell me how to get there?” You tried to persuade him.

“Why is it so vital for you to go after him? He'll be back in a couple months.”

“Because, something bad is going to happen to him, and I have to warn him, before it happens.” You told him, desperate.

“Like, what?”

“Can you help me or not?” You snapped at him.

“All right, fine.” Fynn huffed back, rolling his eyes at you. “Come in.” He sighed, pushing the door open for you.

You hesitated for a moment, but stepped into the trashed flat. Fynn pushed some stuff aside until he found an electronic pad and pulled up a map he used to get from London to Bristol, the most efficient and safest way he could, when he did have to walk there. You watched him fuss over it for a few seconds, before holding his hand out to you.

“Mobile.” He grunted, rolling his eyes again and snatched it from your hand. “I'm giving you my best directions there, with a couple of notes, should you need to stay somewhere. Whatever you do, and I mean whatever you do, do not travel at night. I marked several places along the way you can stay at safely or get supplies from, just show them this.” He pulled up a logo on your mobile, his interlocking initials.

“They'll know I sent you and accommodate you, for free, and know you can be trusted.”

“Thank you.” You sighed, taking your mobile back.

“Hey, Mike is a good friend, and he's saved my ass more than once. So, I'm just returning the favor.” Fynn sighed, rubbing his face. “I wouldn't want Mike bashing my head in for getting his sister killed, that's for sure.”

There was a strong knock on the door and Fynn got up to check the peephole.

“Fuck, it's the Marshals.” He snapped.

“Big fellow, shoulders wider than the door, curls and beard?” You asked, your adrenaline pumping.

“You know him?” Fynn asked, shocked.

“You can say that.” You gulped, glancing around. “Please, you have to hide me. If he finds me here, he'll stop me from saving Mikey.” You pleaded with him, clutching at his cold hand. “Please, Fynn.”

“Fucking Christ, you Keagans are a wily bunch.” He huffed, then directed you into his bedroom. “Be quiet and don't touch anything.” He said, pointing a finger at you, before closing the door and rushing to answer Henry's incessant pounding.

“What the fuck do you want?” Fynn barked at Henry, almost able to look Henry in the eye, glaringly.

“High Marshal Cavill.” Henry said, flashing his badge in Fynn's face.

“And?” Fynn huffed, unperturbed, he had dealt with far scarier people, both High Marshals and Crime Bosses before, and wasn't afraid of Henry.

Henry could see that Fynn wasn't frightened by him and his tired blue eyes darkened, before he grabbed Fynn by the shirt and launched him backwards into his flat, then stepped inside himself, kicking the door closed behind him. While Henry didn't usually employ rough tactics and overly abuse his power as a Marshal, he wasn't wholly immune to it either, he still had his flaws and prejudice from his status as a high born and position in London.

“Fynnch Oliver Penmark.” He growled at the Runner and looked around the utterly trashed flat, a scowl of disgust on his face. “Rumor has it, that you're a Runner.” He said, settling his eyes back on Fynn, who was using the cluttered coffee table to pull himself up.

“Vicious rumors.” Fynn huffed, brushing himself off. “That dumb brain at my work place has it out for me, so he keeps trying to report me to the Council of Daily Operations.”

“You certainly don't spend much time at work.” Henry countered. “What were you again? A floor licker?”

“A Janitor.” Fynn barked, scowling. “I don't want to spend all my time in a hostile environment. So, I do enough hours to appease those blood thirsty bastards at the Council, and get paid.”

“We'll see how long that'll last.” Henry replied, folding his arms. “All I have to do is give them one word and they'll cut you off and you won't have this hell hole to keep you cozy in anymore.”

“What do you want, mate?” Fynn sighed with a growl, he was starting to think you weren't worth the trouble Henry wanted to make for him.

“I had a visit with a friend of yours, Teddy Wang, up in Sector Twenty-Eight.” Henry said, pushing aside some trash by his foot. “He told me that you might know something about Mikey Keagan and his sister.”

“I haven't seen Mike, in a week, and I've never met his sister.” Fynn replied, taking a seat on a clear spot on his couch.

“Funny.” Henry hummed, frowning at him. “I had a little informant tell me that she was seen coming this direction, to see you.”

“Well, either that informant lied to you or she's lost her way. Because she's not here or has she been.”

“I doubt you would tell me, if she was.”

“Look, if giving you information on her would get you out of my place and my business, then I'd give it and her to you. But, I don't know where she is and I haven't seen her.” Fynn told him, annoyed. “You can look around, if you want.” He said, motioning around his pig sty.

Henry glanced around with a dirty look, then looked back to Fynn. “I know you're lying to me.” He hissed, his gut was screaming. “So, you either tell me, or I'll make that call right now and arrest you on top of it.” He warned Fynn, taking out his mobile.

“Jesus!” Fynn barked, jumping to his feet. “Fine! She came by an hour ago, looking for her brother, and said she was afraid something bad was going to happen to him, if she didn't find him and warn him about it. She wanted to know when I saw him last and I told her, just like I told you, it's been a week since I saw Mike.”

“What did she do with that information?” Henry asked, lowering his phone.

“She asked if I knew where her brother went.”

“And, where is Mikey?”

“Bristol.” Fynn said, deflating.

“Bristol.” Henry repeated, sighing. “What is Mikey doing in Bristol?”

“I don't-”

Henry grabbed Fynn by the shirt and yanked him against him, narrowing his glowing blue eyes. “Out with it, Slum.” He growled, harshly.

“He's a Runner.” Fynn yelped, now he was frightened of Henry. “He's been a Runner for the last two years, and he's going to Bristol so he can be trained as an Adjutant Runner for one of the top Crime Bosses of Bristol, Jaxon Quinn.” He babbled out, his eyes huge. “I gave her directions on how to find him there and she left soon after, to start that way.” He added without Henry prompting or threatening him.

“Fuck.” Henry barked, pushing away from Fynn and storming out of his flat, cursing all the way down the hall.

“You can come out now.” Fynn huffed, opening his bedroom door a few minutes later.

“How could you tell him all that!” You snapped at him, punching him on the arm.

“Oh, chill your heels.” He growled, rubbing his arm. “He thinks you're already gone and doesn't know the route you'll be taking. Besides, he's a High Marshal, he's not going to leave the wall for some girl. The Councils wouldn't allow it and even the craziest and most determined Marshals have enough sense not to chance it.”

“I could have just given you away, after all the trouble the asshole gave me.” He added, sourly.

“Thanks.” You grumbled under your breath.

“Hey, when you see your brother again, tell him he owes me for a change.” He called after you.

“Tell him yourself.” You snapped over your shoulder and slammed his door shut.

“She's fucking stupid.”

Henry growled, every muscle in his body was wound up and tight as he thought of you crossing the desolate waste outside the London Wall to Bristol. The danger that laid between there and London, and the even worse danger that lived and functioned inside the city of Bristol itself.

“She's out of her mind!” He kept mumbling, all the way back down to the car. “She's going to get herself killed!” He sighed, running both hands through his hair and making a bigger mess of his wild curls.

“What!” He hissed at his mobile rang through his car's AI.

“Is that how you address your Supreme?” Reyes asked, stiffly.

Henry groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. I'm sorry, sir. It's been a horrible morning.” He apologized.

“That Slave of yours keeping you up at night, Cavill.” Reyes laughed, his voice suggestive.

“Not exactly.” He huffed, spent.

“Well, either way.” Reyes sighed, sounding just as tired. “I need you to bring her in for her formal interview. The Council of Clerics have finally started the trials for the Trafficking.”

“Ugh.” Henry groaned, slumping in his seat. “Mother fucker.”

“Henry?” Reyes said slowly, hearing the sound of his voice.

“She's gone.” Henry admitted, regretfully. “I woke up this morning to her, gone. I've been trying to find her all day.”

“You lost her!”

“If you want to put it that way.” He mumbled, picking at his nails and feeling like he was getting scolded by his mother.

“Where is she?”

“Well, if I knew that, I would have her, wouldn't I?” He snapped back, forgetting himself for a moment.

“What have you been doing all day!?”

“Following every lead to find her that I could, Dylon.” Henry defended himself, exasperated. “I've been to her family home, her work place and even her twin brother's workplace, along with every one of their friends'.”

“And?” Reyes screamed, veins bulging from his forehead and neck.

“My latest Intel says, she's on her way to Bristol, to find her brother, Michail.” Henry sighed, his temples throbbing. “She believes he's in trouble, since he's an Adjutant Runner for Jaxon Quinn.”

“Are you telling me, your Slave, has a twin brother, that's a member of a top Crime Boss's business? The same Jaxon Quinn, that funds Twist's Trafficking?”

Henry swallowed, thickly. “Yes.”

“You realize, she's not only a top witness to Twist's operations, but Quinn's as well. She could help us bring him down, Henry! And you let her get away! How did you not know this to start with? Don't, don't fucking answer that. You know, if she gets there and Quinn realizes who she is-”

“He'll kill her.” Henry replied, his voice weakening.

“Has she left for Bristol yet?”

“As far as I know.” Henry replied, depressed on the matter. “I plan on going after her, Dylon.” He added, he had already made the choice to go after you, he didn't care what Dylon or the Councils said on the matter.

“You know, I can't officially back you in your decision to chase after a Slummer, Henry.” Reyes sighed, leaning against his desk and rubbing his own throbbing head. “But, as your friend and someone that wants to take down Twist and Quinn, you have my full backing.”

“What are we going to say when I don't come in for work, for however long it takes me to find and bring her back?”

“I want both of them, Henry. I want her and her brother. She's a witness and he's a conspirator in Quinn's business.” Dylon told him, bluntly. “I'll tell them that you are quite deeply undercover, trying to gain more info.”

“I'll need to go home and take Kal to Charlie's. I'll just tell him, I'm going undercover for a long while and will be back, when I crack the case.”

“That sounds fine.” Reyes nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. “Don't fuck this up, Henry.” He said, then hung up.

“Thanks.” Henry sighed, rolling his eyes.

You were careful as you made your way to the wall, knowing Henry was probably still lurking somewhere nearby, looking for you. You tried to stay in as well populated areas as you dared, hoping to dodge anyone working for Traffickers or getting spotted by Henry.

“Hey, do-”

“Fuck off.” You snapped as a guy approached you, not wanting anything he had to say or wanted from you, and picked up the pace of your walking.

It was starting to get late, after it taking all day to piece your way through the Sectors and follow your brother's footsteps. You probably would have been out of the city by now, if Henry hadn't showed up at Fynn's flat and took vital time interrogating him about you. You wondered how furious he would be to know how close to you he was in Fynn's place, and still didn't manage to catch you.

“We'd have to see each other again.” You mumbled to yourself.

The chances of seeing Henry again were probably pretty slim. After being gone for a little while, he would give up on trying to find you and go back to work for the Marshals and his life. A deep part of you throbbed though, you felt bad for leaving him like that, especially after everything he had done for you. He could have been an absolute monster and treated you like the Slummer that you are, forcing you to wear a Ownership bracelet and making you his proper Slave. But, Henry had been a complete gentleman to you, taking care of your every need and whim, it was almost like he had become your Slave. Then, the charging of several hundred credits to his account for the backpack and mobile, and the dress and jewelry for the party.

“He'll get over it.” You said, shaking your head. “He's a High Marshal, for fuck sake! He probably makes all that in a single case.” You huffed, rolling your eyes.

But, it didn't stop you from feeling bad for leaving him, without a single word.

“Take a right.” Eric's voice said, cutting into your train of thought.

Grunting, you took the quick right at his instruction. As you rounded the corner, you saw, several meters in front of you, the opening in the massive wall that encompassed the city and its citizens. The opening was one-third the size of the meter wide metal and rusted panel, a strip of dying light filtering through the four meter thick wall. Just a kilometer beyond that, was the first place you would be able to find shelter in for the night, then come first light, you would be on your way towards Bristol and your brother.

“Hey!” A harsh call barked behind you as you approached the gap.

You slowly turned and felt a hard lump form in your throat. It was a Beta Marshal, and he looked pissed. “Me?” You squeaked, pointing to yourself, sheepishly.

“Yes, you!” He hissed, face starting to go red with his anger. “Get away from the wall!”

“Why?” You asked, narrowing your eyes at him, heart pounding.

“Because, I said so!”

You took a deep breath in and out, turned on your heels and dashed for it. The Beta Marshal screamed for you to stop and come back, but you ignored him. You dove into the opening and shimmed along it, going as quickly as you could, having to turn sideways in a couple of places to get through. The Marshal was still yelling at you, wedging himself into the gap to chase after you.

The light got bright and brighter, despite the sun setting lower and lower, as you struggled through the opening to the outside world, until you finally popped out on the other side, a cool breeze rushing passed you, fresh and clean. You turned back to the hole and saw the Beta Marshal panting about halfway, then made a dismissive motion with his hand and started back inside London.

You were home free now.

“Eric, where's the first safe house?” You asked, grinning and feeling victorious, despite the hundred and eighty-five kilometers between you and Bristol.

“Head straight for an hour, Ms.” Eric replied a moment later.

With Kal taken care of by his family, Henry returned to the Marshal Headquarters, intent on following after you, but knowing he needed better information on how to navigate the world outside London to do so.

“Henry.” Martin grinned as Henry entered his floor in the headquarters. “How are you?”

“Not in the mood.” Henry growled, folding his arms over his chest. “I know you have a Runner in your lock up, Lukas Hadwin.”

“Um,” Martin blinked up at Henry, then turned towards his computer and typed the name into his computer. “I do! He was arrested two months ago and is awaiting trial with the Council of Clerics.” He confirmed, turning back towards Henry.

“I want him brought to a private interrogation room on my floor, in the next five minutes.” Henry told the Alpha Marshall, then turned on his heels and marched back up the three floors to his office, needing the walk to calm down some of his anger.

Four minutes later, Martin shoved Lukas Hadwin into the private interrogation room on the High Marshall's floor, and handcuffed him to the table.

“Get out.” Henry barked at Martin, throwing the door open, startling both Martin and the Runner.

“But, Hen-” He started to protest, but his blood froze in his veins seeing the look on Henry's face. “High Marshall, he's my arrest, so he's my responsibility.”

“I outrank you, Sidwell.” Henry growled back at him, the anger he had managed to walk off started boiling again. “So, when I tell you to get out of my fucking interrogation room, I mean, get out.” He hissed.

Martin licked his lips, sheepishly, his mouth drying up. “Of course, High Marshall.” He croaked, edging around Henry, for the door.

“Mr. Hadwin.” Henry said, reaching up to the camera in the corner of the room and turning it off. “According to your extensive file, you're a high ranking Runner for a Bristol Crime Boss.”

“Total bullshit.” Lukas barked, trying hard to keep the angry and outraged expression on his face, despite shaking in his jail issued trainers. “My bitch of an ex-girlfriend reported me to the Council of Marshals, telling you corrupt pricks that I was a Runner, because I broke up with her and refused to pay her flat fees.”

“Is that so?” Henry replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Then, what's this?” He asked, dropping an open file on the table and pointed to a section of it. “Says you and another known Runner were arrested in 2864, for possession of a large cache of Sub-Blue. Your little partner in crime blabbed about how you both worked for a lucrative Crime Boss, running the drugs between Bristol and London.”

“Was he lying?”

Lukas glowered at the report, but didn't answer Henry's question; which only increased Henry's blood pressure. Grabbing the back of Lukas's neck, Henry slammed his face onto the metal table, cracking the screen on the file, and rested an uncomfortable amount of his weight on Lukas's neck.

“Was he lying?!” He yelled, directly into his ear.

“No!” Lukas cried out, squirming, fruitlessly.

“What Crime Boss?” Henry continued to yell.

“Benji Hernandez!” He squealed, whimpering.

Henry pushed off of Lukas's neck with a huff, he had heard about Hernandez, he had heard about all of the big time Crime Bosses that ruled Bristol like the Council of Clerics and Royals ruled London. But, Hernandez was the cream of the crop. His family was credited with establishing Bristol and bringing it to the level, almost on par, with London through deep waves of crime, selling every drug they could get their hands on or manufacture themselves, their number one seller was unsurprisingly, Sub-Blue.

Many Crime Bosses and groups had tried dethroning the Hernandez Family, and all had failed. They had too much money, too much power and their followers, all across England, were loyal, to the death. A massive turf war had broken out several years back, the first conflict of the sort since the end of the fourth war. It had mainly broken out and was confined in Bristol, with pockets of skirmishes in London and the other major city of England, Chester, before finally being squashed. Dozens of people were killed and maimed in the four month long battle, and the Hernandez's kept their throne and were still stronger than ever.

The Hernandez's family, friends and their most distinguished workers were the only ones that lived in Sector One and Two of Bristol, everyone else lived in Sector Three to Sector Fifteen.

“How do you get to Bristol?” Henry asked, pacing around the table.

“It depends.” Lukas panted, rubbing the back of his sore neck.

“On?” Henry pressed.

“The size of the load.” He replied, groaning. “If it's a small load, I'll walk there. If it's a large load, then we'll be driven from a checkpoint outside London to Bristol and back.”

Henry quietly paced around the room, brooding on his next course of action. He knew, for a fact, you wouldn't be driving to Bristol, or knew someone, other than your brother, who was already gone, that could drive you there. So, you had to be heading for Bristol on foot. He debated how he would follow after you, he could take his car to find you, sure he could reach you faster that way, but the moment he managed to get out of the wall with it, his car's on board locator would alert the appropriate channels and they'd go after him.

Especially since going after you wasn't authorized and being done quietly. Leaving Henry with the same option you had been saddled with.

Walking

“How do you get from London to Bristol?” He asked and leaned against the table, across from Lukas.

“There's two routes to Bristol.” Lukas sighed, knowing if he didn't tell Henry the information he wanted, the High Marshal would no doubt beat it out of him. “One is only used if you have a car, because pit stops are few and far between, and you don't want to be caught out there alone, especially at night. So, staying in the moving protection of a car is the best way for that path, since it's longer.”

“The other?”

“The other, is the one that's usually used by Runners that are walking between the two. It's shorter, by several kilometers, but slightly more dangerous than the car route, since it runs through several mini-towns that people, who were either banished or choose to live out there, populate. Some of them and the mini-towns are friendly and benevolent, but most are not. So, if you don't know what ones to stop in, chances are, you'll end up dead and stripped clean of any valuables they can take back into the cities and trade for goods.”

Henry gulped thickly, and felt a cold sweat break out on his skin as he battled the anxiety of you being out there, alone, for so long. He knew it was critically dangerous out there, but hearing Hadwin talking about it and the things between the two cities made it abundantly clear it was even more dangerous than he thought.

“Are you all right?” Lukas asked, seeing Henry's scruffy face steadily grow pale.

“I'm fine.” Henry growled, getting a handle on himself. “How do you know this other route, you used to walk there?”

“It's been used by thousands of Runners, for years.” Lukas laughed, shaking his head. “But, it was recently refined by another Runner.” He added, tugging on his cuffs. “Fynn Penmark recently compiled a map of safe places that Runners can stay for the nights and buy supplies.”

What were the chances? Henry thought.

“You'll be giving me that map.” He told him.

“I can't!”

Lukas squeaked, frightened at the thought of a High Marshal having the map showing him where Runners were coming and going from, the places they stayed and people that aided their operations.

“They'll kill me, if they find out I gave it to you!” He protested.

Henry leaned across the table, bringing his face close to Lukas's. “Look in my eyes and ask yourself, if you think I give a fuck?” He whispered, his tone cold and calculated.

“Now, give me the directions.”

Lukas gulped and nearly peed himself from the energy brewing off of Henry, who didn't pull back as he gave him the directions for the route. Henry looked over the map, making a legend of the symbols Lukas had made along the way, marking places to sleep and get supplies, as well as places that should be avoided at all costs. Once he was satisfied and sure the Runner wasn't lying to him and had told him all he knew, Henry stepped out into the hall and by Martin, not exchanging a single word with him.

Returning to his flat, Henry felt the quiet throughout it, without Kal's barked greeting and you either watching tv or listening to music. He missed those noises and being greeted by the both of you as he got home from work or wherever he had gone. Sighing, he grabbed a bag and stuffed a few items into it, a change of clothes, a small medical kit and a few other things he felt he might need, then checked to make sure his service weapon was still secure to his hip. Knowing it was getting cold out, Henry took off his coat and shirt, and pulled on his base layer HAMR, long sleeve shirt to wear under his black, knit sweater, before pulling his lightweight down jacket back over that.

Slinging his backpack over his back, situating his beanie on his head and zipping up his coat, Henry went back out the door, locking it up and rode the lift down to the ground floor. He knew a place in Sector Four with a large enough hole in the wall that he could squeeze through and start his journey to finding you.

Taking his best guess and trusting his gut feeling, Henry made his way to one of the first safe houses on the map, that you would likely stop in for the night. He just hoped he could get there before you left. But, you had an almost five hour head start on him already. Since, he had to spend so much time pulling information out of Hadwin, plus the nearly a two hour walk around the wall to get to the closest point to the house, and where you nearly had a straight shot to it, then the hour to the mini-town.

Within an hour of you both leaving Fynn's flat, Henry had entered the Marshal's Headquarters to interrogate the known Runner, Lukas Hadwin, on how to get to Bristol, and you had reached the opening in the wall. While you finally reached the safe town and your room, Henry had been grilling Hadwin for a tense hour. For the next two, you took a much needed rest, and Henry finally finished juicing Hadwin for every bit of info he had, including the map Fynn had given you for the trip. He then rushed home, taking Kal to Charlie's and packing a bag to follow after you.

Henry wasn't afraid of the nearly three hour walk to the house, in the middle of the night. He could easily protect himself, both with his weapon and his hands, it was you that consumed all of his worry and fear. You had nothing to protect you, other than your wits, but those would only get someone so far, before running out and getting you severely injured, or killed.

“Please, just keep her safe until I can reach her.” He said out loud, looking up at the inky black sky and twinkling stars.

“That's all I ask.” He sighed, walking faster.

You were exhausted after running around London all day, running from Henry and a Beta Marshall, then walking non-stop for a solid hour to reach the first safe place on Fynn's map, just as the last rays of sunlight died behind the horizon.

“Who are you and what do you want?” A hard looking woman behind a makeshift counter asked as you entered the decrepit building that was marked as a safe place.

“I'm a friend of Fynn's.” You told her, approaching the counter and showed her Fynn's logo off his map.

“I guess you want a room then?” She asked, turning her back to you and grabbed a key off the wall behind her.

“I do.” You replied, sheepishly.

“This way.” She rasped, disappearing through a doorway.

You gulped and followed after her, following her down a long dimly lit hallway with rows of doors on either side. She stopped by a door in the middle of the hallway and jammed the key in the lock and opened it. Pushing it open, she handed you the key and went back down the hall, leaving you alone. You leaned into the room, flicking on the light and finding it bare, only furnished with a bed, a single chair and nothing else, not even a window.

Sighing and figuring it was better than nothing, you stepped inside, closed and locked the door behind you, even shoving the chair up against it, for added security, before sitting down on the squeaky and dingy bed. Shrugging off your backpack, you unzipped it and pulled out a package of food you'd brought with you, slowly munching on it, before making sure Eric woke you up as soon as it was light out, and laid back on the bed; using your pack as a pillow. But, it took you a long time to fall asleep, the room was cold and there were scratching noises happening all around you, making you paranoid. But, eventually your exhaustion won out and you fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of your brother dying and Henry's voice calling out to you.

The time seemed so short, when Eric's voice sounded in your ears, and in reality, it had only been a mere two hours. Now, unknowingly, three hours ahead of Henry, you woke groggily and sat up, rubbing at your face, as you got up and pulled your backpack on. You removed the chair from your door and went down the hall to the front desk, finding the same lady there.

“Do you have a bathroom?” You asked her through a yawn and handed her the room key back, your bladder screaming.

She pointed to a door on the other side of the room and you went inside, grimacing at the filthy condition of it, but you really needed to pee, so you made do with it. Emptying your bladder, you looked at your map and found a supply store a mile up from you and headed that way, hoping for something decently hot, and was overjoyed to find a brewing coffee pot. You showed the supplier Fynn's mark, then filled a reusable cup with the hot brown liquid and roamed around as you sipped at it. Taking a couple more things of food, refilled your water bottle and pieced together something for breakfast.

“Thanks.” You smiled at the supplier as you finished your breakfast and refilled the coffee cup, before getting back on your way.

You made sure to follow Fynn's advice and the map, keeping your eyes to yourself and walking as quickly as you could to avoid trouble or attracting any unwanted attention. Everyone else around you did the same, there were very few people just standing around, those that were, begged for credits to buy things or trying to sell something else.

But, you ignored their harks and kept walking.

Once you were clear of the mini-town, you dared to have Eric put on some low music, the eerie quiet of the area playing on your anxious nerves as you headed for the next safe place, four hours to the north of your location. You decided to walk there as quickly as you could, then decide whether or not you could risk walking the extra two hours to the next one after that, without risking your own safety. Even though the sun had only just risen, you didn't want to play it risky or get cocky. If you did, and got yourself in trouble, you wouldn't make it to Bristol, hopefully in time to warn Mikey about potentially being in trouble, as Quinn's Runner.

“I'll make it, I know I will.” You assured yourself, pushing down the fearful anxiety. “I will.” You repeated, stubbornly, clenching your hands into fists. “I have too.” You added even softer, weakening to some of that concern.

“Have you seen this girl?” Henry asked, approaching a hard looking woman and showing her a photo he had taken of you and Kal, not that long ago.

“No.” The woman replied, shaking her head.

Henry narrowed his eyes at her, knowing she was lying through her missing teeth. Had he been in London, he would have simply slapped his badge on the counter and she would have sang like an Opera singer on opening night. But, he wasn't and that move would have sealed her lips up tighter than a crab's shell, and probably gotten him into a heap of trouble, wasting more of his time.

“Fine.” He sighed, turning away from her and heading back outside.

Glancing around, he spotted an elderly man standing at the corner, hands held out to every person that walked by him.

“Hey, old timer.” He said, walking up to him.

“Credit for a sandwich?” The old man asked, reaching his hands out to Henry.

“How about a sandwich for some information?” Henry asked, pulling a sandwich out of his pack. “Have you seen this girl?” He inquired, showing him your photo.

“Yeah, saw her super early this morning.” the old man replied, scratching his scraggly beard. “Just as I was setting up here, after first light, maybe three hours ago.”

“Looked in a mighty rush to be somewhere.” He added, nodding to himself.

“Thank you.” Henry thanked him and let him have the sandwich, plus an extra sandwich, just to be nice to the poor man, then started power walking away, knowing he was on the right path to find you and that the gap between you was steadily closing.

“I've got you now.” Henry smirked to himself.

150 notes · View notes

css1992 · 3 years

Text

Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

All the warnings listed on Part I apply.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X / Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

What the fuck was he thinking?

That was the first thought in Peter’s mind when he opened his eyes the next morning and remembered what he had done the night before. Agreeing to meet with a subscriber, really, how dumb was that? It was one of those things he did before bed when his brain was too slow to make good decisions and then the next morning there were consequences. Consequences. Peter couldn’t deal with fucking consequences, he was still struggling with the fallout of his other terrible life choices.

I should cancel, he thought, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to wake himself up.

He should definitely cancel. Right. It was only reasonable. He could tell Tony he slept on it and realized it wasn’t such a good idea, after all. Or he could just say he was sick – for the foreseeable future. Or something. He would figure it out as he typed.

He sighed heavily and reached for his phone on the nightstand, pulling up his chat with Tony. He was going to call the whole thing off – he was! – but he made one crucial mistake. Before he started typing an excuse, he re-read the conversation from the night before. He didn’t understand why or how, but Tony’s words just – inebriated him, and by re-reading them, he was put under his spell all over again.

I need to see you, he said.

Not want. Not would like. Need. The word choice wasn’t lost on Peter, but he wondered if he was reading too much into it, if maybe Tony just said the first thing that came to mind without giving it much thought. But it couldn’t be casual, could it? Nobody would say they needed something casually.

Right?

He pictured the older man holding him close, whispering in his ear, “I need to see you”, until, somehow, in his imagination, words got lost somewhere and it became, “I need you”. Peter shivered just thinking about it. He was sure his voice would exude power and confidence, he just knew it, he wouldn’t be able to resist Tony’s commands, and yet–

Please.

He asked nicely. Peter was hyper-aware of the fact that the word “please” had an unreasonable and slightly concerning effect on him, he should probably talk to someone about that, but it just did. It fucking did. Tony could have demanded whatever he wanted – and embarrassingly, Peter would have probably said yes. He could have been an asshole about it, pushy, like some other people were, but no. He was…

I’ll treat you right.

Peter never stood a chance, he realized, sighing, letting his phone fall off his hand and onto the bed. That man knew exactly what he was doing, didn’t he? Peter wondered if he was that transparent, if anyone who talked to him for more than five minutes could see how needy he was, how badly he craved affection. If so, how embarrassing was that? A touch-starved porn star with feelings?

Ex-porn star, his brain supplied, and Peter rolled his eyes at himself. But still, technically, he was not a porn star anymore, he was more like… A model. A social media influencer? An adult entertainer. He could settle for that.

He picked his phone back up and looked at the chat, re-reading their conversation from the night before, over and over again. At least it didn’t seem like he thought Peter was a hooker – well, he hadn’t offered money, so Peter assumed he meant it as a casual meeting, not a business transaction. Nothing else has to happen, he promised. Nobody would ask a hooker out not expecting anything else to happen.

Right?

While he freaked out wondering what exactly he had gotten himself into, his phone beeped and vibrated in his hand, as he got a notification saying he had a text from an unknown number. He frowned, because not a lot of people had his number, but when he opened the text message, his heart dropped to his stomach.

“Hey, babe, it’s Quent. I saw you unblocked me on Instagram. Can we talk?”

He felt immediately dizzy, his vision blurred and his hands shook. His only reaction was to throw the phone as far away from him as he could, as if it was on fire. His throat closed up and breathing became harder, he thought he might suffocate, as he sat up on the bed and tried to take deep breaths. Deep breaths. Tried not to get lost in his –

“I can’t do this anymore, Pete,” was the first thing he said the minute the younger man walked out of the en suite bathroom, drying his hair with a towel.

“Do what?” He asked, confused, tilting his head to the side. He watched as Beck slowly got out of bed and walked to him. Peter noticed he wasn’t naked anymore, he had put on some pants and a t-shirt. He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of the situation.

“This. Us.” He gestured between them and Peter stared at him for a few seconds, as the words flew around in his head, refusing to provide any meaning. After a couple of minutes, he laughed weakly, even though his eyes burned and his chest felt crushed. Beck’s expression remained impassive.

“You’re joking, right?” Even as he asked that, he knew in his heart that he wasn’t. His face fell when Beck simply shook his head. “Quent… What...” He didn’t even know what to say, what to ask. He took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair, trying to stop his eyes from watering, Beck hated it when he cried for no reason. “Listen, let’s just – let’s just talk about this, I’m sure–“

“There’s nothing to talk about, Peter, I’ve made up my mind. I’m sorry.” He took the two steps that separated them and ran a hand down the younger man’s wet cheek and Peter grasped it desperately, as if it could make him stay. “You’re immature, needy and quite frankly… a little boring for someone who gets fucked for a living.”

“I can do better, Quent, I can change, please don’t – don’t leave me,” he begged quietly, voice cracking, barely audible over the sound of his own sobs. Beck winced, pulling his hand away.“Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, please… Please, don’t leave me...” He shut his eyes tightly, trying to wake up from that nightmare. Just a few minutes earlier, everything was fine, they filmed a scene, Beck told him to get in the shower and the minute he walked back into the bedroom everything went to shit, how the fuck did that happen?

“This is exactly what I’m talking about, Peter. Look at you, listen to yourself right now. It’s… Pathetic.” He looked at him like he was the saddest sight he had ever seen, a mixture of pity and disgust, annoyance and impatience. Peter remembered a time when he looked at him like he was precious, like he was the most important person in the world… What went wrong? Where did he fuck up? How could he fix it?

“Quent, I-I – you’re all I–“

“That’s the problem, Pete,” he scoffed, shaking his head with an incredulous smile on his face. “I’m tired of being your everything, it’s exhausting. You’re exhausting.” He leaned against the wall next to the bedroom’s door, as Peter freaked out just a few feet away, thinking he was having an actual heart attack from how bad hearing that fucking hurt. “I don’t love you anymore.”

He was pulled from his memories when the doorbell rang and his heart jumped. Could it be him at the door? He couldn’t have found him, he had no idea where Ned and MJ lived – hell, he had no idea where Peter went, he didn’t even bother to ask. For all he knew, Peter could be living on the streets. He knew he had no money, no family, and he didn’t fucking care, he just fucking kicked him out, he barely gave him time to pack all of his things, his eyes were cold, arms crossed over his chest as he waited impatiently for Peter to leave. And he begged and kept begging, and–

Fuck, he was losing it. He was going back to that dark place he had barely crawled out from just weeks earlier.

He took a deep, calming breath and shook his head, trying to get his emotions under control. It was not Beck at the door. He had no way of finding him, and Peter knew he wouldn’t even try to. The only reason he had to contact him was probably a job. He knew a lot of people in the porn industry would still try to book him through Beck, since he was his agent for so long. That was obviously the reason he was trying to reach out. Money. As always. That was all.

So he took another deep breath and walked slowly to the front door. When he checked the peephole, Ned and MJ were casually standing outside, talking to each other like nothing was wrong in the world. He didn’t think twice and yanked the door open.

“Get dressed, loser, we’re going– what the fuck!?” MJ’s eyes almost jumped out of their sockets once she took a look at him. He knew he must look like garbage, he had no idea how he was even standing on his own two feet, he felt like his whole body was falling to pieces. He threw his arms around Ned, who was closest to him, and the older boy just pulled him close and let him bury his face in his neck, not missing a beat.

“Shh, it’s ok, buddy. Everything’s fine now.” He rubbed his back gently and Peter cried a little harder, a mixture of relief, sadness and regret filling his chest, leaving him confused and exhausted all at once. “Come on, let’s sit down for a minute. MJ, bring him some water, will you?” He pushed him lightly inside the apartment and directed him to the only piece of furniture in the living room, crouching down in front of him as MJ rummaged his tiny kitchen. “You ok, man?”

“I’m ok, I’m ok. It’s just… one of those days.” He forced a smile, trying to dry his face with the collar of his shirt. He didn’t want to tell them that Beck had tried to reach out, it would only cause them to worry unnecessarily. They were the ones who had convinced him to block his number, even if Peter insisted Beck would never call.

MJ hurried back from the kitchen and thrust a glass of water in his face, seeming a little nervous and completely out of her element. He realized that it was probably the first time they ever saw him in such bad shape, he didn’t have the energy to try to put up a strong front for them, which he always did, ever since he was a ten-year old boy. They had seen him cry before, of course, just probably not like that. Peter felt like shit and he knew he looked like it, too.

He drank the water that was offered to him just to have an excuse not to talk for a few seconds, as he tried to cool down and get himself back under control. MJ was fidgeting, standing beside Ned who was sitting on the floor, rubbing Peter’s knees comfortingly.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Ned asked, squeezing his leg, and he shook his head firmly.

“No, thanks. I’m fine, really. Did you have plans for today?” He looked at his friends and noticed they both had their jackets on and looked ready to go out. It was, after all, a sunny Saturday morning. “I’ll go get dressed right now.” He tried to get up from the armchair but MJ placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, we can stay in, if you want.” She assured him, still looking a little freaked out, which was funny to watch. She was never very good at comforting people.

“No, that’s stupid, come on,” He got up, forcing Ned to do the same, and headed to the bedroom, but the older boy grabbed his arm before he could go too far.

“Don’t worry, c’mon, let’s go down to our apartment, at least we have a couch.”

Peter wanted to insist that he was okay to go out, but if he was honest with himself, he was... not okay. To do anything. And he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts.

So he just nodded at his friends and followed them downstairs. Back at their place, he plopped down on the couch with MJ next to him, as Ned headed for the kitchen. He came back with ice cream and three spoons and Peter smiled weakly, appreciating the gesture.

“So… Bad day?” Ned asked sympathetically as Peter pretended to focus on the frozen desert.

“Bad day,” he answered, simply, with a small smile on his face, and his friend nodded in understanding.

“Did something happen or…?” He insisted and Peter stuffed his mouth with enough ice-cream to give himself a brain freeze, just so he could avoid talking for a while. He shrugged.

“No, just… Memories.”

“Of course,” MJ scoffed, as she stabbed the ice-cream with her spoon. “That asshole. I can’t believe he gets to be your first love. That fucking sucks.” Peter was sure MJ didn’t mean to make him feel bad – or rather, worse – but he hadn’t even thought about that yet. The fact that Beck was his first love. His first everything, really. Nothing could ever change that fact. He swallowed the lump in his throat with a spoonful of chocolate chip ice-cream. “Don’t worry, one day you’ll find a decent man who will show you what a healthy relationship looks like, you know. That perv deprived you of even that.” MJ shook her head and Peter sighed, wincing.

“I don’t think I can find a decent man, MJ,” he mumbled, looking down at the ice-cream pint. “I’m a certified whore now. Imagine Prince Charming googling my name and finding my gang bang video, or the fisting one.” He scoffed, shaking his head. He didn’t dare to look up at his friends, he played with the melting ice-cream and shrugged. “I’m sorry for the mental image.” His face was burning red, he hated to talk about his videos with them, but they needed a reality check. He was pretty sure they never watched the videos, so they had no idea how bad the situation was.

“Good thing you’re not looking for Prince Charming, then, Cinderella.” She rolled her eyes. “You need a man who understands that sex is just sex, it doesn’t matter how many people you slept with, or if it was filmed or not. Besides, it was just a fucking job, like any other, people use their bodies to work. Writers use their hands, waiters use their legs, you used your ass, so-fucking-what?” MJ argued and she genuinely seemed to believe her own words, which made Peter laugh a little and feel relieved that his friend didn’t think badly of him. That made one of them.

The thing was, it was a beautiful speech, big words, great ideas, but none of it meant anything because it wasn’t real. He believed MJ thought like that, but most people didn’t. Most people would look at him differently knowing he used to do porn and knowing that he still did solo stuff on Just4Fans. They would think it was fine to fantasize about him, it was fine to jerk off to him, maybe it would even be fine to have sex with him casually, but have a serious relationship with him? Probably not.

He must have been distracted for a while and jumped up a little when he felt Ned’s hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, dude. Not everyone is that narrow-minded, you know. At the end of the day, it’s just porn. A lot of people do it, even more people watch it, it’s not that big of a deal.” Ned shrugged and Peter looked at him a little surprised. He didn’t look freaked out at all by what he said earlier, which – he didn’t think he would be rude or anything, he just didn’t expect him to be so cool about it.

He smiled at him and nodded.

Peter spent the rest of the day at their place and gradually started feeling a little more like himself, a little calmer. His head hurt from such a rough morning, but having his friends by his side helped a lot. They had pizza for lunch and binge watched a sitcom for seven hours straight, which helped keep all the intrusive thoughts at bay. Well, mostly.

When he got home that night, he picked up his phone that was still lying on the floor. The screen was cracked, but at least it was still working. He quickly blocked Beck’s Instagram and his new number before he could think twice about it, and only then did he notice there was a message from Tony waiting for him, from a few hours earlier.

“Hey, gorgeous. How’s your day? I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Can’t wait to see you.”

For some weird reason, reading that message soothed him. It should have freaked him out, sent him over the edge again, but it didn’t. He had forgotten all about the fact that he agreed to meet Tony, but he was glad he did. He felt exhausted from all the emotions he had to deal with all day long and he thought he didn’t want to do anything but sleep it off, but talking to Tony sounded like an even better idea somehow.

“Not so good, I’m a little tired, but I’ll survive. How was yours, daddy?”

He wasn’t surprised when he got an answer right away.

“I’m sorry to hear that, kitten. I’d give you a foot rub if I was there, would that help?” Peter couldn’t help but smile at that message, which was a little shocking to him, he thought he had lost the ability to do that hours ago.

“That would help a lot, daddy.” He sighed, rolling onto his side, burying himself under the covers. “I wish you were here.” He didn’t expect to mean it so much, not when he was talking to a virtual stranger, but Tony had such a weird effect on him when they talked. Peter felt like he knew him, like they were intimate, like he was safe. And none of that made any sense, but he couldn’t help it.

“I wish I were there, too. I’d take good care of you.” Fuck, and he kept saying those things. Those beautiful things that made his stomach turn and his head hurt and his heart go wild. He was so fucked. “Dinner’s still up? Does Thursday night work for you?”

“Thursday works fine. I’m just a little nervous.” He curled on his side, looking closely at the cracked screen. Immediately, Tony started typing an answer.

“Please don’t be, sweetheart, I promise you’ll have a good time. We’ll have a nice meal, some fine wine, a good talk. What’s not to like?” That was exactly what Peter thought the previous night, and it had made perfect sense in his head. When he woke up, though, it didn’t sound reasonable at all. And now there he was, hypnotized again by Tony’s charm.

“I don’t know.” He bit his lip, wondering if he should say what he wanted to say or if it would be weird.

“Then, please, don’t worry. You can leave at any second if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“Okay.” He replied, worrying his bottom lip, working up the nerve to say what was on his mind. “Look, you know I’m not, like… a prostitute, right? Nor an escort. I just post dirty pictures online, which might be misleading, but I’m not a sex worker. I hope you know that.” There, he said it. He held his breath as he waited for Tony’s answer, who kept typing for what felt like ages.

“To be completely honest, no, I was not sure, and I didn’t want to offend you by asking, but this changes nothing. I didn’t ask to meet you for that, I hope you know. I just really need to see you in person. I like talking to you here, but I’d love to hear your voice, see your smile, make you laugh. I promise I have no ulterior motives.”

“Oh, you’re good.” Peter joked lightly, because it seemed like Tony always knew what to say to wrap him around his little finger.

“I am, baby, I promise. You’ll see.”

He was pretty sure he had heard similar promises before, beautiful words without any meaning. Still, for some reason, it wasn’t hard to believe him.

-x-

Tag list (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list): @sadachmesarthim @iamnotparticularlyproud

#starker #peter parker x tony stark

30 notes · View notes

upsteadhq · 4 years

Text

attempts

*same warning for the last two parts. this is whump and contains whumpy things, angst and blood*

masterlist series masterlist

Part Three

The more time went on, the more tired Jay could feel himself getting. The only thing keeping him awake was the previously fired gunshot still ringing in his head. He could still hear the echo of the bullet of leaving the chamber, of the body dropping to the ground and the ting that came after as the casing dropped on to the concrete.

It kept playing in his head as if it had just happened.

He was just praying the unconsciousness would take him under it’s wrath, maybe for good. He couldn’t go on without Hailey, there was no point.

In his delirious state the realization of the fact he couldn’t hear the shell casing hit the floor when the actual bullet rang out didn’t hit him until moments later. The first bullet had shot on the opposite side of the building, the other ones were getting closer. He swore they were getting closer.

But then all went quiet. No gunshots. No whispers. No footsteps. No, no, no. It was silent.

Jay tries moving, slowly starting to turn on to his shoulder so he could investigate the sudden silence but the stab coming from his abdomen stopped him, causing a pained groan to rise up the back of his throat and expel into the air. He allowed gravity to work and it took him on to his back and that’s when he assessed the damage done by the offender, seeing the large stain growing bigger by the second, now being able to feel the blood pooling out of the hole left by the bar.

He then catches the sound of footsteps coming toward the door again, which was now slightly pulled-to, and he braces himself for the next beat down, for the next set of punches and kicks.

He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes when he hears a voice calling his name, a familiar voice he knew in the back of his head.

“Jay? Jay?” The voice drew closer and then the person behind the voice calls over their shoulder. “Sarge! He’s in here!”

The sudden weight of hands against his abdomen brings another ached cough into the outside world, getting the voice’s attention again.

“Hey, Jay, look at me, you’re okay, we got you,” they say frantically and then in the corner of his eye Jay can see another figure appear in the doorway, this person looking down to him. The first voice then looks to the second. “We need another ambo here like five minutes ago, he’s dumping blood.”

The second one disappears out of the door again, and Jay could hear the gruff voice fading away, leaving him alone with the first.

Jay finds his own voice, speaking it through coughs. He stumbles the first few times, unable to get the full word to leave his mouth and the person hovering over him pushing down on his stomach shakes their head, telling him to save his energy. But he kept going, one thing on his mind and he needed an answer. “H- Hailey?”

The voice nods. “She’s fine, a little beaten up but she’s fine.”

There’s a momentary feeling of relief that comes over him as he knows Hailey is okay, enough to wash away all those anxious thoughts that had been keeping him awake. Now he knew she was okay he could fall asleep.

His eyes started dropping before cold hands slapped the side of his face gently. “No, Jay, you gotta stay awake, just stay awake for me.” The voice says, and Jay swears he recognizes it, but he can’t see the face of the person behind it. He couldn’t focus on figuring it out, all he wanted was to sleep.

Another tap to the side of his face. “Jay, please, just stay with me, you have to.”

But Jay could just feel his eyelids get heavier, the exhaustion hitting him over and over. He needed the nap.

He had been busy all day, no wonder he was tired. Surely this person should understand that, surely they should know he needs a rest, and that they should just let him have it.

Jay was getting more drowsy, everything fading away from around him quickly. The last thing he hears is the voice shouting his name, and it’s almost enough to pull him back into the dark, cold concrete hell-hole but it isn’t enough, and everything goes quiet, cutting to black.

xxx

When Jay finally opened his eyes again it was to the sound of a rhythmic beating echoing throughout the room. He was blinded by the bright overhead lights that filled the room, a huge contrast to the blackness he had seen for god knows how long and to the dim lighting he had been in for hours before that.

He rolls his head across the pillow, an ache started to throb through his head as he rubbed a newly-healing scar against the fabric, but the dull pain was nothing compared to what he had been feeling earlier that day, and he takes it the needle stuck into the back of his hand had something to do with that.

A voice from inside the room makes him move his head back to where it had been before, back in the direction of the origin of the noise. “Jay?” They called his name again.

Through squinted eyes he makes out the figure of the familiar red-head sitting at his bedside and Jay let’s out a grumble.

“Why’d they send in you? I would have preferred anyone but you.” Jay’s dry voice mumbles into the room, making his older brother chuckle.

“It’s nice to see you too,” Will remarks, leaning forward in the chair so he got closer to the bed. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Jay brings a small upturn to his lips, the numb pulling on his cheek making anything more than that sore. “You were worried about me.” He says in an amused way.

Will would have reached forward and smacked Jay for that one, for the playful hint in his voice, but after the day he had had, Will decides it’s best to just leave it alone. “Of course I was worried about you, dumbass, you’re my baby brother,” he says, causing Jay to roll his eyes. “And I will always be worried about you,” he adds before a smile comes up on his own face. “You are aware of the fact you’re not a cat, right? You do know you don’t have nine lives, so stop acting like it, you might not be so lucky next time.”

Jay shrugs. “I can be a cat.”

Will’s eyebrows furrow before he looks up, seeing the IV still dripping into his brother’s hand. “That’s the pain meds talking, why don’t you get some more rest?”

His younger brother then shakes his head. “Where’s Hailey?” Jay questions.

The red-head isn’t exactly surprised by Jay’s question, in fact he was quite expecting it. Over the past couple of months Will had noticed the drastic change in Jay. He was happier now than he was just a few months ago. Will had also picked up on the more obvious flirting between Jay and Hailey that happened at Molly’s after they had had one too many drinks. That and the constant absence from the apartment, Jay spending nights somewhere and coming back first thing in the morning to change before work. But as not to overstep into his brother’s personal life he pushed it off, nodding along with Jay when he used the “stayed late at the district doing paperwork and doesn’t have clothes in his locker” or “crashed at Adam’s after watching the game” card for the third time that week.

“She’s downstairs.” He replies, sparking another question from Jay immediately.

“Is she okay?”

Will nods. “Scrapes and a couple bruised ribs but nothing a bit of glue and time can’t fix.”

Jay tries to sit up, only to feel a sharp searing pain in his abdomen. Will jumps from the seat and pushes him back down on the bed fully, shaking his head quickly.

“You’ll pop the stitches, don’t move. You need to rest.”

Jay’s breathless now, the stinging taking his wind away and it was slowly coming back. “What stitches?”

Will points to the covered torso. “Those stitches. Just be careful.”

The vague memory of the attack from the offender then rushes back to Jay, telling him why he needed the stitches, the memory of one of the jagged ends of the bar cutting through his abdomen coming back to him.

He sighs, allowing himself to sink back into the uncomfortable pillow, starting to feel his eyes close again as the pain meds do their job. “I have to see Hailey.” He mumbles quietly.

Will taps Jay’s shoulder before sitting back down in the chair, noticing the tiredness coming over his brother again. “Once you’ve had a bit more rest,” he says, gaining an argumentative grunt from Jay in return. “We’ll get her up here for when you wake up again.”

There’s another complaining noise that comes from Jay as he tries to fight off the drowsiness but he doesn’t get the chance to voice his dissatisfaction over that before he’s out.

xxx

When he comes to again he’s still half-out if it, the pain meds still coursing through him, making everything hazy. He groggily looks around the recovery room he was still inside and sighs. All he wanted was his own bed at home, not the uncomfortable hospital bed with a needle stuck into the back of his hand. Although he was grateful for what the needle was doing to him, taking away most of the pain from earlier, so he guesses it can stay.

As his eyes travel around the room he spots a figure sat in the chair again and he doesn’t think too much of it until he realizes it wasn’t the figure that had been sat there what felt like moments before. He spots the loose blonde locks draped over her shoulders then notices the red cuts plastered up with steri-strips and bruises that littered her face. His heart sinks at the thought of her having to go through what he did, with the games and attacks, at the sight of what the offenders did to her too.

“Hey you.” She says through the small smile.

Jay was still half-asleep but he tries to mimic her expression, however he definitely doesn’t do it properly. “Hey.”

She stares to him for a moment before tilting her head to one side. “You look great.”

“I’ve looked better.” He says through a chuckle which he immediately regrets by the stiffness felt in his ribs.

“Actually I don’t know, I’ve kinda got used to you with all the cuts and scrapes. I think it suits you.”

Jay slowly shakes his head. “Well after these heal maybe I’ll get another set.”

Hailey let’s out a scoff, swiftly shutting down the idea. “Uh-uh.” She tuts.

They fall into a silence as Jay looks around the hospital room again. He puts his eyes on the pole sat beside his head, the one where the IV bag was hanging.

“Are you running low?” Hailey asks and he catches her slowly moving on the chair in the corner of his eye.

He looks back to her. “No, I don’t think so,” Jay replies, watching her sit herself back into the chair with a small grimace and his heart aches again. “You okay?”

Hailey nods, using her arms to sit herself up straight against the back of the chair instead, ditching the sliding back plan. “I should be asking you that question.”

Jay goes quiet again, watching her and he doesn’t notice how his face drops sadly but Hailey does, furrowing her eyebrows toward him.

“Jay, what’s wrong?” She asks and then Jay realizes the tears that had started stinging in his eyes.

He brings one of his hands up, the one that didn’t have the IV stuck into the dorsal side, and wiped his eyes, clearing his throat as he did and shaking her question off.

The more he sees her sitting there the more he thinks back to when he was lying on the cold concrete floor of the warehouse, that gunshot going off and ringing through his ears and that momentary dread he felt sit on his chest when he thought it was Hailey that had been hit.

Despite having just sat back, Hailey scoots forward again and leans toward the bed, grabbing hold of his free hand, lacing her fingers with his and the rule about keeping it professional at work - or anywhere else where one of their colleagues could walk in unannounced - flies out the window. “Jay, talk to me.”

His voice was dry and cracked and the multiple attempts to restore it back to normal doesn't work. “I don’t know, it’s stupid,” he sighs. “I thought it was you. When that gunshot went off, I thought it was you and I had just been stabbed but that didn’t bother me. All I could think about was how I didn’t want to carry on without you because I’m in love with you, Hailey, I have been for a long time and I don’t know what I would do without you,” he spills, not realizing what he had said until it was too late. He sees her reaction and his words play over in his head. They had only been dating a few months and he curses at himself for letting it blurt this early. “I didn’t actually want to say that to you for the first time in a hospital room. I’m so sorry if I overstepped.”

Hailey stops him before he could say anything else, squeezing his hand lightly as she slowly moved herself close enough to him. She ended up leaning over him on the bed, putting a soft kiss against his lips. It wasn’t anything more than that, it was intimate, delicate and it didn’t need to be anything more than that. After a beat she pulls away and looks past the bruises surrounding his eyes and scars scattered across his forehead and cheeks, moving past the evidence left behind from the events of today and just meets the gentle look in his eyes. “I’m in love with you too.”

taglist @5021ida @agnesgranberg97 @angelsjedi @anna-justice @benharmonsupremacy @fandomlife7 @natszyd @thedanishprince @who-am-i-58-13

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klaus-is-the-real-number-1 · 4 years

Text

The House of the Rising Sun (Number 5 x reader)

A/N: This is an unfinished fic ive had in my drafts for well over a year,, enjoy? based of s1

Crime rates had never been higher, gangs ravaging the city any opportunity they got dealing class A narcotics and carrying out random acts of violence. No one leaves their houses at night, as soon as the sun sets the streets would empty and complete anomie would take place. One ‘gang’ were set above the rest, they were practically the equivalent of the mafia, all dressed in a smartly pressed uniform and operating throughout the entire city, the Umbrella Academy. Rumour has it they all had ‘powers’ of some sort, making them the most powerful gang, even if they didn’t have their ‘powers’ they would still be in the lead having very high levels of violence between them.

The Umbrella Academy all had nicknames, a mere murmur of the said names would send people running like scared dogs, tails between their legs. The most feared of the Umbrella Academy was The Boy, just as him name suggested he was the one no one knew anything about, yes there was rumours but never any solid facts. The Boy had apparently travelled to the future, has a kill count of hundreds and can appear in a flash of blue from thin air, but these are just mad rumours that drift round town.

Dusk set upon the city but you didn’t notice, too busy finishing bouquets in your shop. You ran a small florists on the outskirts of the town, you never caused any trouble and had never stayed late until today. You glanced out the window and gasped, looking at the pitch black sky, feeling your heart rate increase at the thought of walking four blocks in the gang ridden town. As quickly as you could you close the shop, making sure the doors were locked and the solid metal shutters were firmly shut. You leave by the back door, locking it and closing the shutter yet again, not leaving your small life source of a shop to the vengeance of raging gangs who carry out pointless crimes.

Shadows hid your small frame as you quickly walked home, defenceless, hoping to miss anyone out at the late hours of the night. Unfortunately, luck was not playing on your side, from the shadows you could make out a group of lads making their way threateningly down the street. All you could do is pray that you wouldn’t get spotted in the dark shadows.

“Well what do we have here?” You quickened your pace somehow thinking that you could move away from them but you were wrong. You were surrounded like you were feeding bread to a flock of seagulls, if the seagulls were feral and had rabies it would mirror how afraid you were at that moment.

“Sorry!” Is all you were able to squeak out as you were roughly pulled out from the safeness of the dark into the centre of the group, your bag getting ripped off your back. Your frozen, watching them go through the contents of your bad, dumping out all your papers and pens that you had in your bag until finally finding your purse. “Please don’t it’s all I have.”

As soon as the words left your mouth you were on the ground, a numbing pain shooting through the side of your head, you could see heavy droplets of blood hit the floor as your nose bled from the impact. Another sharp impact landed against your ribs as a sob wracked through your shaking body, unable to comprehend how quickly the events had escalated, all you could do now is wait for the next impact but it never came.

“Hey, assholes!” The voice was crisp and sharp, dripping with confidence and authority. “Pick on someone your own size.”

Coins fell to the floor as the gang dropped your bag and your purse and ran, you couldn’t even look up, the thought of someone more threatening than an entire group sent shivers down your hurt body. You didn’t hear footsteps, all you saw from your peripheral vision a blue light and a dark figure. The rustling sound of papers cut through the silent street and the harsh zip of your bag startled you.

“You need to see someone about that.” You look up and were met with none other than The Boy, the most questioned of the Umbrella Academy, dressed in a smart uniform, domino mask securely covering his identity. His fingertips lightly brushed the side of your head, causing you to flinch away. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He said unconvincingly, emotions hidden by the mask.

He held your now packed bag out to you, you lifted yourself off the floor, wincing as you did so. You cautiously took your bag from The Boys hand, holding it loosely in your hand. Taking a step, you stumble, your side collapsing in on it’s self, The Boy caught you, putting his arm around your waist to steady you.

“Here, let me help you home, where do you live?” In your shattered state you told him, and in a blink of blue you were at your door. You messily fumble with your keys as your shaking hands roughly push your door open, dropping your bag into your small apartment.

“Thank you.” The mask clad boy stood before you, hands in his shorts pockets.

“It’s okay,” You couldn’t see his eyes but you knew they were scanning over your body. “Make sure to get your injuries checked over, they got you pretty hard y/n.” Then he was gone.

You lock your door and double check your windows, securing them before limping over to your bathroom, looking at your beaten form in the mirror. Red marks spread over your face and the side of your body, bruising already starting to form, blood stained your white patterned shirt with a now ruined name tag, the thought of work taking over your thoughts, well not all of your thoughts. The Boy was also on your thoughts, his cold emotionless face, half covered by a domino mask, contrasted with the softness of his words, the caring nature of his touch. He’s a crime lord, a dangerous man, yet he showed kindness to you.

Five was angry, he was angry with himself that he didn’t get there quick enough to stop them hurting y/n. She was the only pure thing left in the city and they went for her, defenceless. Five would’ve killed them on the spot if he didn’t want to hurt y/n any more than she already was. He wasn’t actively going out of his way to find y/n, she was sunshine in a grey and broken world.

“Five,” He hadn’t even finished teleporting into his room before Luther started speaking. “We’re not meant to be out on the streets. What were you doing?” Luther’s big frame towered over Five, attempting to threaten him.

“I was out doing what were meant to be doing, keeping our authority through the streets. Haven’t you heard that they’ve been saying we’re weak.” Five snarled at his brother prompting Luther to sigh then walk out. It wasn’t always like this, they could’ve been heroes but Mr Hargreeves only saw the darkness and the powers within them, he made them the best at being the worst and for some it was the end of the line.

An aching agony wracked through your fragile body as your head pounded like a thousand drummers sounding the beating retreat. You hoped a shower would ease any of the pain, warm water running over all of your bruises, the side of your body looking like a black and blue watercolour along your ribs. Your work clothes were just casual, simple, it was one of the upsides of owning your own business. However, you did have an apron, it had different flowers embroidered on it and a simple name tag. A name tag now covered in blood.

Quiet music softly played in the background of your flower shop, you swept the floor in time to the music, swaying your hips as you did so. Heading back to the storage room, you heard the bell to the shop chime, a welcoming noise.

“Hey, how can I help?” The man seemed startled, looking up at the arrangement of bouquets and flashing a quick smile.

“I’d like some flowers for my mom,” He almost hesitated with his words, a soft peach colour present on his cheeks. “I saw your shop yesterday and couldn’t remember the last time anyone had got her any.”

“Awe, that’s super sweet, have any of the bouquets caught your fancy or does she have a flower preference?” The boy in front of you was about the same age as you, maybe older, he had sharp features but they were even out by the softness of his eyes.

He thought for a moment, searching the deepest parts of his brain. “Lilies, she likes lilies.” You smile at his words before looking round your small, compacted shop for any pre-made bouquets.

“We don’t have any made up right now but if you come back,” You look at the clock, thinking about a convenient time for him to come back. “In about 2 hours I’ll have one made up for you?” You give him a sweet smile as he nods. “Great! If you want you can leave your name and number so I can text you when its done.”

You watch him messily write his details on a post it note. Peeling it off the block, you stick it to your notice board, looking at his name as you did so. Five. “I’ll send you a text once your bouquets done!”

“Ok, thank you,” He hesitated as he strained to read your name tag. “Y/n.”

“No problem, Five.” You see a small smile break out on his face as he left the shop. The rest of your day dragged as a slow drip of customers drifted in and out of the shop. You made a large bouquet of different types of lilies for Five, taking extra care to arrange them in the prettiest way you could, making it extra special for his mom.

You admire your handy work, loving when you get special orders being able to be as creative as you want. You send a text to Five saying that he can drop in any time from now until closing to pick them up, you get an almost instant response sending his thanks.

Shouting echoed down the street, sharp crashing of glass cutting through the air. Smoke drifted like ghosts down the street as screams echoed down the road of people coughing, spluttering grasping for breath. Peering out your shop window you saw them again, the lads from the night before, petrol bombs in hand ready to throw. You had to consider you options, quick, close the shutters quickly and run out the back or just run out and risk that they recognise you.

Quickly, you pulled the shutters down as you hear the unruly lads shouting get louder, you think your safe but then you remember the window upstairs, wide open, vulnerable. Taking two steps at a time but you were halfway to the window and heard a ‘get the flower shop’.

A flame like a rabid hare shot past you, shattering on the ground followed by another, hitting the window dead on surrounding you in flame, no escape in a smoke filling room. Smoke licked the walls as smoke danced in your lungs, making you feel lightheaded, blurring you vision. The floor burnt as you dropped to your knees, trying to take in any remaining oxygen, begging for your eyes not to close.

As Five walked back to the flower shop only to be met with shouting, screaming and sirens, noticing the smoke in the air he quickened his pace, only to break out into a sprint at the sight of the small flower shop in flames. He couldn’t see y/n out in the street in front of the shop, in a blind panic he blipped into the shop, looking round and seeing smoke pouring down the stairs, dread filling his body. In a blink of an eye he was in the burning room, finding y/n unconscious on the floor, he grabbed her body and as quickly as he could in the haze of the smoke.

He flashed to the academy, roughly shaking y/n shoulder. “Y/n,” He checked she was still breathing. “y/n please. Wake up. Mom!” Grace came round the corner, watching her son frantically shake an unconscious body.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Grace’s calming voice did nothing to sooth the panicking boy, she looked at the girls flame licked skin. “Take her to the medical room, Five.” Without another word Five had flashed upstairs, Grace beginning jogging up the stairs wrapping her medical apron around her as she did.

You gasp awake, proceeding to cough up whatever smoke settled in your lungs. You didn’t recognise the room around you, it didn’t look like any normal hospital, or even a hospital at all. Panicking at the foreign surroundings you drag yourself out of the bed, body screaming out at the heat in your arms and palms from the fire, the fire, your shop. Before even having time to comprehend the series of unfortunate events that led you up to this point, a woman walked in, sending heaving 1950/60′s vibe.

“Hello dear, I’m Grace.” Grace had a soft voice but it didn’t sound quite right, it sounded almost robotic, not human.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.” You pushed past her and hope to find a way out of the large eerie house you were in. Panic mode overtook your whole body as you tried to find any way out, footsteps echoing behind you as Grace tried to catch up with you but you saw the front door and ran for it.

“My dear, you can’t go yet!” But you had already ran out the door, it being left wide open behind you, sprinting down the street probably looking like a madman but in that moment it didn’t matter to you, you had to get out.

#The Umbrella Academy #Umbrella Academy #number 5 #number five #five hargreeves x reader #number 5 x reader #number five x reader #number five imagine #number five oneshot #number 5 imagine #five hargreeves imagine #this is so old and unfinished but al post it anyways

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slfcare · 4 years

Note

hi!! i hope you're well!! i believe i need ur advice or just someone to talk to. i am not a genius or an easily smart student but ive always gotten decent grades through really rigorous studying. im a slow learner, i need videos and my attention span is really flighty so i really prefer discussions and sometimes i get too sad to do work until someone pushes me to. now that classes happen online and i am at home, it feels like things have gotten more difficult. i have to deal with house chores. im the oldest sibling in our family & i do not really have the heart to ask my siblings to help me because i can see they are struggling with their classes. but it's also taking a toll on me. i have no time to do my class work, i feel like my mental health is deteriorating (if u must know, last year i got caught in my s*icide attempt and i was about to be brought to a professional but the pandemic happened and mental healthcare in my country isn't really a thing and i am honestly terrified of being "branded" or being named an illness. tbh i have nothing against mental illness, it's just the way my parents sees it and it sucks to be viewed as someone incapable or weird by my family. so i actually prefer not seeing any professionals.) and i feel so alone! i am repeating my last year of highschool in a new school and i know no one!! my friends had moved on to college and here i am, still in hs with no friends. i don't really know how to make friends online, i always feel anxious with private messaging, and i am scared they might know i was the one who tried to attempt her life. news is fast with things like that.

it feels lonely and frustrating doing and squeezing things alone and without anyone to help. i can't answer anything because i genuinely want to learn and understand and i do not understand anything!! i cant ask for help from my family because they too are busy and i do not want to intrude. and, as for my mental health and them— i feel they do not understand and i give up talking to them about it. and i did try to ask my parents for help once (about school not my mh) but they said i could just copy off this kid we're good acquaintances with. they say it doesn't matter if i understand it because it's all useless in the future but i want to understand it so much!! i dont want to just copy answers!!!

anyways, it would have been a bit better if my school did stuff like video classes but no, they just send in documents with so much pages for us to answer and submit through emails by the end of the week. now, ive earned quite a stack of untouched school work since the last week of october to this week. it's terrible, but i just lost all will to study. i feel so busy busy busy with the house and trying to keep my mental health in check. i am so desperate to just graduate and get it over with but i feel so hopeless about it! i don't know what to do!! i don't know how to fix up a routine! i just don't know!! maybe i just need to find a way to lighten up the load?? enjoy what im doing? (im so sorry for dumping all this to you, ive just never really talked about it and it honestly feel like too much on me)

Hey there angel,

I completely understand the weight you feel considering your current circumstances. School is obviously very different to what we’re all used to and adjusted to, so this major change is bound to have major consequences for everybody.

It makes complete sense for you to feel like you have a million responsibilities and feeling alone in that, but keeping that to yourself (however noble the cause) will perpetuate that loneliness. You’re very kind to not want to bother you siblings on top of the pressure you know they’re experiencing, but this workload shouldn’t just be yours, and dividing it will give everyone a bit to do instead of you having to do everything. At the end of the day, you’re struggling because this is too much for you. You’re not just feeling like it’s too much, but it actually is, and that’s okay. You don’t have to be everything for everyone at the same time and nobody will be disappointed or hurt or mad if you express that you need help.

Be more vocal, ask for help with chores, email your teachers or guidance counselor or both, and please don’t carry this on your own. That’s not what humans are made for.

I hope you’ll find what you’re looking for and I wish you happy, stress-free holidays.

#advice from a friend

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honeydots · 4 years

Note

127 with shuake would be good.

"My hands are not clean, and maybe they never will be, but they can still carry you home when you're ready to sleep."

once again. didnt forget abt these. im working thru em.

Summary: Goro wakes up one day in a hospital bed with only a bullet wound to keep him company, and not a single memory of who he used to be.

(ao3 link)

He was almost certain the last few weeks had been a dream.

Or maybe, several long and white coated dreams. The kinds with bright lights at an arm's length, and ill-fitting clothes, and men coming in waves carrying their clipboards as flags. With deep voices all at once whispering, echoing, “what is your name?”

Maybe he was in a hospital.

His first day of full consciousness was slow and lonely. His second day too, time spent wiggling his toes and counting ceiling spots. Day three he asked for a glass of water and scared a nurse out of her skin, and his week was kickstarted. Which only really meant an actual doctor came in and declared retrograde amnesia the only explanation for his condition.

His “condition” was quite the word to use. Which condition? They could play bingo. Was it his memory loss (obvious, weak narrative), or could it have been the state of comatose he’d been in (intriguing), or even the bullet wound (now here was a mystery, what a plotline) he’d heard remarkably little about? Amnesia, the fickle bastard, was the type to bring one answer to dinner, and disappear by morning.

But what did he know?

Well, he knew that this was a pretty shitty hospital. As far as how he assumed they should be managed, this one was on a low tier. And according to the nurse, as was their police station. Incompetent, and uncaring of his case, which had apparently been made.

It’d been a week now. He could get up. Limited, with his IV, but he could. The nurse said later that maybe the police would listen to him now, since he was conscious, basically up and kicking. ‘Listen to him now,’ was also an interesting phrase, because he hadn’t been speaking in the first place.

He wasn’t injured. His vitals were fine, the nurses had told him, and commented he was taking up an unnecessary bed. Not that he could actually make any kind of sound argument, which was frustrating enough on its own, but this didn’t seem like proper procedure.

He was, once again, very alone in his room. He thought about going to the police station. Incompetent as they may be, there would be no answers here. There was no one here to help him; some healthy boy in a hospital bed.

He got up. His IV was stuck in poorly, the tape just barely holding on. They’d disconnected him from all sorts of machines. Nothing was roping him down except for saline solution and his own two feet.

And, he was already standing.

It wasn’t hard to pull out.

His hospital gown was tied all the way down, falling just past his knees. He had odd socks on, their texture was weird, and they were several sizes too big. They were thick and patterned, maybe slip proof? But shoeless as he was, they would do.

The hallway was very empty. He was on the ground floor, but he wasn’t sure there were other stories. Maybe one, or a basement. It didn’t matter much. There just wasn’t anyone around. His concern was in that he didn’t know how long their absence would last.

There was a glass door at the end of the hallway.

To the police he’d go. A medical bill dodging amnesiac would probably get him some attention. Enough to get a name?

The door was not locked. That was probably good, for a hospital, and not a security breach, which is where his mind had initially gone.

Doors are meant to be opened, he thought. There really isn’t anything wrong with that.

It was just a little bright outside. The sun was up but not too far. He was in the parking lot, and it was almost entirely devoid of cars. Small, small hospital.

He didn’t exactly have a map, and no nurse was around to give him any condescending directions. He’d might as well go forward, then. He started walking, and thought to himself how odd his feet felt on the concrete.

No one was out. He hesitated to call it deserted, just maybe a bit early. He kept walking, nerves high, still worried he might get mauled by a stray doctor.

It seemed like this was a very small town, going by his surroundings. Lots of trees, and cracked roads, and old buildings. He didn’t think much of taking it all in. He’d have time for sightseeing when he remembered his initials.

A bit farther ahead was a woman, leaning on a car parked on the side of the road. She was glaring down at her phone. She looked— maybe irritated? Or tired. He wondered if he could ask her for directions. An aimless stroll through town wouldn’t take him to where he was going, after all.

“Excuse me,” he called, “Ma’am? Do you know the way to the police station?” He approached her with just enough caution to call it looking out for himself, ignoring the sorry state he was already in.

She glanced up from her phone. Her hair was short, and dark, and it bobbed around her face. She registered him for a moment, and her eyes went big.

“Holy shit.”

He knew enough to know that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “I need to go to the police, please.”

The woman kept staring at him. “You—” she stuttered, “are you Goro Akechi? You are, aren’t you?”

This encounter was already going awry. Did she know him? “Do you know me?”

“Uh…I mean, no, we’ve never met.” She pushed herself off her car, and slowly put her phone back into her pocket.

That wasn’t really what he meant. He needed to persist, here. This could be a lucky hit. “No I— Do you know who I am?”

Blatant confusion spread across her face. “Uh… Are you not Goro Akechi?”

“I don’t know,” he answered.

She stared at him again, almost suspicious. Then she looked him up and down.

“Are you… coming from the hospital?”

“Yes.” He watched her mouth open just a bit in disbelief. He wondered how this woman knew him. If explaining would get more information out of her, then he’d do it. Privacy only existed when you had something to protect, after all. “I’ve been given an amnesiac diagnosis, you see. I’m going to the police station to see if I can find any sort of lead on myself.”

She looked shocked. “Amnesia? And you’re going to the cops?” She blinked, and suddenly looked very serious. She grabbed one of his shoulders. “Wait. That’s bad news. Don’t go to the police.”

He (Goro?) hadn’t expected to hear that.“What? And why shouldn’t I?”

“You… holy shit, kid, do you actually have amnesia?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Listen you need to— oh good god, this is gonna sound like I’m trying to kidnap you— I definitely know who you are. I can tell you but we shouldn’t… here. If someone finds you… ” She exhaled hard, and looked him dead on. It made Goro freeze. “Fuck, okay. The gist of it is— you’re in more danger than you realize. Like, a lot more. Will you come talk with me in my car?”

Alright. So, a lot to process, and a lot he didn’t know how to. He didn’t even know if he should process it, or if that was the kind of story that should be immediately disregarded. Someone telling you to not go to the police and please get in their car seemed like a textbook stranger-danger red flag. There had been something uneasy about her tone, though. Like genuine concern— not that such a thing couldn’t be perfected and acted, however.

But she’d given him a name. And it felt almost tangible, the more he thought about it. Less bendable and more sturdy. It was very easy to attach to himself. And it was a lead, wasn’t it?

“Hey, did you get discharged, or are you just wandering around? Cause they’re gonna be looking for you if they didn’t let you out,” said the woman, jump starting Goro (almost certainly, Goro) out of his head. “And kid, I cannot just let you turn yourself in to the cops.”

‘Turn myself in,’ he thought to himself. Such particular wording. It made his stomach drop. This woman knew more than him, clearly. And really, for fucks sake, if he died, he died. Obviously he hadn’t left enough of a mark on anyone to warrant not a single visitor during a five year coma. According to the nurses, it was more evident that he’d simply been dumped in town— like someone had already been trying to get rid of him.

Well, whoever they were, they’d forgotten to bury his bones.

He straightened himself up. “Okay.”

She looked surprised, at first. She swallowed around it. “...Yep, okay then. Hop in before you change your mind.” She popped open her car door, and Goro circled around the side and followed suit.

Her car was messy. It was filled with food wrappers and empty bottles, but papers and notebooks were scattered around, too. So she kept busy, it seemed. He decided he’d consider this a point in the not-about-to-murder-you direction. Too much here that could be used as evidence against her. Too personalized. He was almost envious.

She adjusted her seat forwards and turned on the ignition. She was a bit jittery, Goro noticed, as she scratched the back of her head vigorously.

“So, I’m gonna drive us somewhere that isn’t here but I can talk and drive so, just— like, just a second, okay?”

He nodded. She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. “...Goddamn,” she muttered, and then pressed down on the gas, turning her car onto the barren road.

She kept her eyes forward, but kept true to her promise of talking. She sighed. “Right. So, uh, to start… Okay, first, my name’s Ichiko Ohya, I’m a journalist. Get that cleared away. Next comes you which is a bit more complicated, but you probably wanna know why we’re dodging cops so I’ll start there. Or, as close to there as I can.”

He would take anything he could get from her, actually. The cops situation was undeniably concerning, but right now he was essentially a sentient empty shell, absorbing everything for the first time. A kid in a metaphorical candy store, but the store was a dodgy reporter who still might be kidnapping him and just stalling. He’d call himself the kid, but it dawned on him he didn’t even know how old he was. Fantastic. More things the hospital staff hadn’t bothered to tell him.

“Your name’s Goro Akechi. I told you that already but, that’s you. At least I’m like, ninety percent sure.” She spared him a glance. “You do look a bit different but all in all I’m— I’m pretty sure. Just the hair and the stubble, you know.”

Goro hadn’t exactly looked in a mirror recently, so no, he didn’t know. He knew he had long hair— certainly longer than Ohya’s. He rubbed his jaw and felt the rough and gritty bristles that had prickled onto him. It bothered him that he didn’t know. It bothered him that he didn’t know what he looked like.

Ohya continued, not letting him dwell for long. “You’re also sort of famous. Well, you were, and it was mainly with teenagers and moms in the city, but you were a popular detective. So, that’s how I know you. And I swear I’m getting to the running from cops part, but you have to know this first first. Oh, shit, it’s right here.” She took a sharp turn into a grocery store, and Goro had to grip the side to keep steady in his seat.

She didn’t act very sheepish about it. “Sorry, for that. We’re gonna talk in here.”

She paused her explanation to pull into a spot, which Goro felt a little thankful for because, under his circumstances, that felt like a lot of information to take in. He was well known, but not well known enough that anyone out here knew him. ‘Famous detective’ raised some weird alarms in his head, a position absurd enough that it might be true. It felt unfortunately right, like a disappointing truth. It was different from his name, more unwelcome. But it didn’t click either. Nothing had been clicking at all.

There was a pit growing in his stomach, like something was in there, chewing down on his insides. But he’d found he didn’t care for ignorance, so he would put up with it for as long as it took.

Ohya turned her car off, pushed her seat away from the wheel, and got herself comfortable. She faced him, nonchalant but sincere. “So this is where the really juicy stuff comes in, alright? So like, listen up now, if you weren’t.” There was something very serious about her eyes.

As if he’d have let any of her explanation slip under his radar. “I’m listening.”

That was a good enough answer for her, it seemed.

“I’m trying to think of the best way to explain this, honestly,” she started, thumbing the back of her hand. “You… okay, there was this guy. He was a really big politician that you were involved with, and it’s kind of a gray area as far as what you were doing for him, but you and him worked together. Kind of. He was a really shitty guy.”

She looked like she was considering her words. She turned her focus out the windshield for a moment, and sighed again. “He basically ended up confessing because this group— well, actually, they don’t matter right now. He confessed, and he talked about you. For some of it. It was a long fucking confession. But half of what he said wasn’t even coherent. He was talking about some crazy shit and no one knows what he meant by it. You were part of that whole section.” She paused again, thinking. Goro let the silence sit. He didn’t want to jump to a conclusion until he’d heard her out. Which was proving difficult, truthfully, because this all left a sour taste in his mouth, one that had almost certainly been there before.

“They wanted to take you in for questioning, but you disappeared. And, to add fuel to the fire, they were having a hard time getting any actual concrete evidence,” she began. “Can’t make an arrest based on a confession alone. He did other things, too, and that's what he ended up being indicted for, but there's still that problem. This whole chunk of confession is still there that technically lines up with his timeline of events, but there’s no way to prove it. That’s why they want you,” Ohya’s expression darkened. “At least, publicly, that’s why they want you.”

She readjusted in her seat again. She faced him fully. “This guy— Shido’s his name— he’s got goons. Not to mention, he had complete control over the police, and there are other higher up’s who worked with him. Some of those guys got busted with Shido’s confession, but there’s a few where there just isn’t enough evidence to put ‘em away. These are the ones who you need to watch out for.” She took a deep breath, not finished.

“I’m gonna be frank with you,” she continued. “They want you dead. They don’t want a single loose end, and you’re still dangling. The police are on their side. Are you understanding me?”

Goro tried to let the words sink in. That was more than a lot to think about. The creature in his stomach was grinning now, he could tell. But, this was also no time to get overwhelmed. If her words were true— which, the overwrought familiarity of her explanation compelled him to trust them— he needed to keep his head above the water.

“So these— subordinates. You’re saying they’re after my life? They can’t be actively hunting me down, if they have the influence you’re implying, or I’d have been found by now,” Goro said, deciding to ignore the fear creeping up his spine. “So then, what’s my public status? How unlikely was it that I was the egoless comatose patient they were searching for?”

“Uh…” said Ohya, seeming like she was the stunned one. “Well, you’re right, they don’t really have a manhunt right now. I guess I don’t need to worry about beating around the bush here— you’re presumed dead.”

Interesting. “That doesn’t surprise me,” he said, furrowing his brow. “But, obviously, a body was never found. They’re probably prioritizing morgues then, not hospitals. That does explain why I wasn’t discovered after all this time.” Though, if they’re smart, they’d also keep an eye on cases like his. They probably were, in fact. He’d gotten lucky that the police here were clueless.

Ohya gave him a very funny look. “You know, it’s almost creepy how well you’re taking this. You were in a coma this whole time?” She shook her head. “I’d have thought you’d be more out of it, honestly.”

“Is this not what you’d consider a wake-up call? I’ve been ‘out of it’ for a week. It’s common sense that I’d react like this,” he told her. Just going outside had cleared his head. He had a feeling hospitals had never been a fitting place for him. “Yes, I was in a coma,” he added, as an afterthought. “They said I’d been shot.”

Just as the words left his mouth, he realized the implications that had.

Ohya noticed just as fast. “You said shot?”

They’d certainly both had the same assumption— maybe an attempt had already been made after his life.

But there was something that felt wrong about that scenario, too. “I’m not… entirely sure it’s what you think it is,“ he replied. Maybe wrong wasn’t the correct word but, it wasn’t completely right either. “There’s no benefit to not making my body public. And, if they’re really after me, it seems messy, to say the least, that they didn’t finish the job properly.” He tried to speak confidently. The effort was familiar, too. Part of him wondered when he’d get the chance to do some self-analysis and tear himself apart.

Ohya caught on very quick, rolling with every punch Goro gave. “Christ, kid. What kind of shady shit were you into? So we’re thinking you’ve got another group after you?”

“I don’t know.”

He really didn’t. There were missing pieces, but that was evident. He had no end of missing pieces. If he was supposed to be some detective, then maybe he should get on with acting like it, and figure out whatever the hell this was.

Whatever business he’d wrapped himself into.

Ohya, again, spoke too quickly for Goro to finish digging through his own head.

“Maaan, I’ve really got myself into something haven’t I?” She rubbed her eyes, like she was already exhausted. “Look, I’m a busy woman. Don’t expect much out of me, but apparently I’ve got a bad habit of adopting puppies. So I’ll see if I can at least point you in the right direction, okay?”

He didn’t have much of another choice, other than to let himself be killed. He nodded again, not sure whether to call himself pleased or solemn.

She buzzed her lips and looked at him, obviously thinking. Then she opened her car door. “Well, okay. First things first, you gotta get some clothes, ‘cause you can’t go walking around like that. God, you don’t even have shoes…” She got out and stretched, and then turned back to him for one last comment. “Don’t expect much, okay? I’m not made of money. Don’t you dare go anywhere, either.”

She slammed the door shut and started walking into the store.

Goro was glad for the moment of peace. He let his jaw relax, closing his eyes. He hated how familiar the stress felt, and how desperate he was to welcome the feeling. A life or death promise was about as thrilling as one day should get.

Getting any memory back was his top priority. But he didn’t have an inkling of where to start. He didn’t have a phone, or a computer, and certainly not a home. He guessed he could use a public computer at a library, but just searching himself might raise more questions than answers. They’d be important questions, he was sure, but he wondered about the bias, the assumptions, the fact that it’d be an outside perspective looking in. He didn’t know how delicately he should go about regaining his memories.

Not to mention, he had only the word of a stranger and a low feeling in his stomach confirming he was even Goro Akechi. And now, with the reputation he’d had, if he even wanted to be him was questionable. Memories of such a life seemed… unpleasurable, at best, but he hadn’t set himself up to be able to just start over. Remembering his past was his best chance at plain old survival.

He wanted to have some kind of plan before Ohya came back, but he was drawing blanks. What he really needed was someone who knew him personally. Beyond media attention, if there was a single poor soul around who’d actually known him. He found himself doubting such an existence, past anyone who was out for his head.

He heard the car doors unlock, and he opened his eyes. Ohya was walking back with two bags, and she was on her phone again, barely looking where she was going. Well, there goes him having a plan. Bouncing ideas back and forth was the last thing he wanted to do. It was time wasted and he knew he would get frustrated, but his choices were limited. At least Ohya seemed pretty knowledgeable. It was possible she knew more than she was letting on, too.

She opened up the car door and tossed the bags onto his lap. “Hey,” she began, setting herself back into place, “I got your stuff but— I remembered something in there that might be a good starting place for you, if I can run that by ya.”

Or, of course, he could hear Ohya out and avoid idea bouncing all together. Something solid had come by much quicker than he thought.

*****

Ohya’s plan wasn’t bad at all.

She’d told him she had a contact from a few years ago, who was in charge of a bundle of self storage units. Apparently a certain “Goro Akechi” had registered himself one a couple months or so after Goro’s public disappearance. They’d told her once they noticed the name, but Ohya hadn’t taken up the lead at the time. When Goro asked why they’d even told her that, she left it at “no reason important,” and kept the topic adamantly off the table. Goro would push the envelope if it weren’t for the fact that his life (a life he didn’t even know he had, for the record, and one that still bothered him) was on the line.

If this unit did belong to him, there could be a very solid lead on himself in there, and leads on his acquaintances, too. Ohya didn’t know if the garage still existed, though. So she said she’d give them a call and see if they could figure something out.

Which is what led to Goro sitting in a barber’s chair. After he’d gotten dressed (an ensemble of sweats, a sweatshirt, and tennis shoes) Ohya had commented that he looked like he belonged in a homeless shelter, and “really needed a haircut.”

She said something about how he’d always kept himself looking clean, and Goro believed it. He was already feeling discomfited the way he was. So unkempt and basically filthy. So, she decided that while she was getting her contact all in order, she’d pay for him getting a trim and a shave.

She was helping him more than he’d expected her to, in ways he didn’t really expect. But he’d take what he could get. He’d hardly had a reason to say no.

He sat waiting in front of a mirror. He hadn’t gotten a good look at himself until now, but god, she was right, he looked pretty fucking bad.

The first thought that came to him was sickly. Eyes sunken in, deep bags under his eyes. You wouldn’t expect him to have just been in a permanent state of slumber for the past five years. Or maybe the correct assumption would be, a coma hadn’t been enough sleep for him.

His hair was just below his shoulders, and he had a very pitiful looking beard. He didn’t recognize himself. He didn’t think that would change much after his haircut, but it made him itch. It was a face that didn’t feel like his. He wanted to rip it off and replace it with a new one, one he knew better.

Maybe he’d never liked looking at his reflection.

Ohya had spoken to the barber for him. The one he got either wasn’t the talkative type, or really got his vibe of not wanting to speak to anyone. She went to work in silence, washing his hair with fruity shampoo and dressing him in a long black apron. That was all fine, albeit uncomfortable, but once she started cutting, Goro found he couldn't watch. The snips were loud, and definite, and it left his chest feeling tight. He couldn’t do anything but let his thoughts run blank.

He wondered if that was hair he’d had before his incident, now falling away. He’d have the same eyes, and organs, and teeth, too. But he felt all wrong in this body. Like it had gone on without him.

He was thankful when she moved to his beard. Just for a moment, though, because having someone so close to his face made him want to retreat as far back into himself as possible. A blade so close to his throat. He wondered how hard of a push it would take to make a cut. He wondered how deeply he’d have to go to make it bleed.

Maybe he’d always hated barbers, too.

When she’d announced she was finished, and Goro forced himself to look back in the mirror, it actually took him aback. It had taken years off him. She’d styled his bangs, and left no hair on his chin, but most importantly, it was clean. Soft looking. Pleasant.

It was almost enough to distract him from the discolored scar plastered on his forehead.

He stared for probably too long. His disheveled bangs had kept it clearly out of view on his first glance, but now that he was fresh and groomed, it pushed its way into the limelight. It was reddish, and almost shiny, and painstakingly circular.

He could feel dread bubbling up. He tore himself away from the mirror, and found an instant sense of relief when he wasn’t staring anymore.

Reflections and barbers. More to read into later, he supposed. He was learning he had been quite the hassle. What an annoyance.

Ohya met him at the entrance. Pure amusement was all over her face. “Shorter than I expected, but you’re looking pretty smart like that.” Her eyes went to his scar, but she made no comment on it. She frowned, but that was all.

Goro didn’t mind her reluctance on the topic. He raised his eyebrows, and spoke with the silent mutual understanding of “that is one gnarly goddamn scar” between them. “Ah, and I’m sure the sweatpants add to the look.”

“Watch it,” she snapped back, sliding into her usual demeanor. “Not like I could get you Levi’s, kid.”

She paid for his haircut, and out of the shop they went. They walked to the car in anticipating silence. She had her phone out again, texting someone now. Goro didn’t want to get his hopes up. Texting could mean anything, or nothing, or half of one or the other.

She pushed her seat back getting into the car, and pulled one leg up with her. Goro waited for her to speak, keeping himself tense. He really wouldn’t be able to loosen up if he tried, like a wound up doll who’d gotten stuck.

Ohya broke the quiet. “It’s still there.”

Goro sucked in, but didn’t let himself relax. Nothing ended there. It was one check off a list, but not all of them.

“And can we go in?”

Ohya blew air out of her mouth. “Well, she said she wants to make sure it's you, because there's only so many privacy laws she wants to break.” She shrugged at him. “But honestly, looking at you now, there's not a doubt in my mind you’re Goro Akechi. So, you can chill about it.”

He leaned back into his seat. The tensity had not left him. Something was making him lucky today, and he hated it. He would feel much more comfortable in the mitts of misfortune. But he couldn’t help feeling giddy, too. Like something was rubbing circles into his back, easing, but not erasing, bits and pieces of his concerns. It was something to focus on, and a goal to achieve. Above all, that relief made him feel pathetic.

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to go today or not, but you look more thrilled than I think I’ve ever seen you, so I’m just gonna take that as a yes.”

He hated the way she worded that. He frowned. “Only if you’re as concerned about my identity as you seemed to be earlier. You’re welcome to take your time, I’m surely not going anywhere.”

“You’re snarky! I never realized you had an attitude,” Ohya laughed.

She got the car going, and they were on their way to the unit. Apparently it was quite a ways, and Ohya advised him he’d better buckle in for a long one.

He could feel his eyelids getting heavy. He had things he wanted to think about, and questions he wanted to ask. Working up a tolerance to being active was not something that could be done in a day, but fuck if he wouldn’t try anyway.

But, despite how he tried to fight it, Goro fell asleep.

*****

He woke up when they were about ten minutes from the units. Ohya commented she’d thought it was a little funny that he’d been so exhausted doing just about nothing all day, but admitted too that his body was probably pretty weak, and he really should take it easy. As easy as he could, at least.

They were both quiet for the remainder of the drive. The sun was getting low now. They were passing by suburbs between grassy fields, driving past exit by exit. He had no idea how long they’d been going for. Ohya had called herself busy, and Goro believed it, so her continual help felt unusual. People weren’t just like this, he was almost sure.

She also knew things that felt… almost inappropriately relevant to him. The topic of the unit still tingled in the back of his mind. Why had they called her about his storage? And for that matter, why had she even known so much about him? The information she had felt intimate— like the results of a deep investigation. Had this all been yielded from that politician?

But Ohya had a distinct air of privacy. There could’ve been something personal about her aid, but Goro figured that she wouldn’t crack easily. It might be better to leave it— personal matters tended to yield lasting effects, after all. At least, he assumed so. He really wasn’t sure if that was as big of a plus as it appeared on the surface, though.

When the centre came into view, Goro let those thoughts ease into the back of his mind. He could focus on Ohya’s MO later. This was leaps and bounds more important to him; if anything was going to last, it was this. He could play detective, just like he was supposed to, and maybe come across some special clue. Perhaps he could test out his muscle memory and flex whatever skills he presumed he’d had.

They arrived, and it looked extremely closed. Like the only customers they’d been expecting were ghosts. The lights in the windows were off, and the gate guarding the units was shut tight. It wasn’t encouraging.

Ohya read his expression pretty clearly. She bumped his shoulder with her fist. “She knows we’re coming, my contact’s still here. The front just closes at 6:00. I’ll deal with it, so just stay put for now.”

And just as she said, after she hopped out of her car and approached the office, the door swiftly opened and a woman joined Ohya outside. The two of them seemed friendly. Goro watched as they talked, noting quizzically to himself that Ohya was someone who talked with her hands.

Ohya gestured to her car and they both looked over to Goro. He watched them walk over, and obeyed smartly when Ohya signaled him to roll down his window.

The woman peeked her head around to look at him, her eyebrows arched high. “Wow,” she said, completely staring now. “I mean, he looks like him, that’s for sure.”

Ohya grinned. “Sure does. That enough for you to let us in?” She didn��t really say it as a request, more like an expectation. Goro appreciated the tone.

She fiddled with her bottom lip. “Hmm. You said amnesia? He got any doctor's notes about that?” She asked, giving cue to Ohya’s sour expression.

“You didn’t say a word about notes

on the phone, you know.”

The contact clicked her tongue, and looked back to Goro. She bit the inside of her cheek, and sighed. “Just cause it’s you, Ohya, I’ll take that nasty scar on his forehead as my confirmation.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Come with me inside, I’ll get his key.”

Ohya made a haughty noise of achievement, and followed the woman back in. Goro rolled up the window again.

They were taking a little while. He rubbed at his scar absentmindedly. So obviously a bullet wound, maybe that had been the real reason his barber hadn’t made much conversation. Whoever tried to kill him had shot just where it counted. You don’t fire a warning shot into a head. He wondered if he’d deserved it, and doubted he didn’t.

Goro removed his hand when Ohya reemerged from the building, and she was looking confident. She slid back into her car and jingled the key to his unit victoriously. “Easy peasy. She’s gonna open the gate for us in a second. Your unit number is 508.”

They waited for a little while, nerves ever growing, until the automatic gates opened on their own, groaning and creaking until fully extended. Ohya started her car and drove in, squinting at the unit numbers in the low light.

Rows upon rows of garages awaited them. This must’ve been a pretty large lot, by the looks of things. The dirt road was the only uneven piece of scenery, the repetition was endless. He kept a watchful eye on the unit numbers, as well, skipping between the evens and the odds.

After a few right turns, and one very tight u-turn, they were there. 508 stood wedged between its neighbors, almost at the end of the row, but not quite. Not a thing stood out about it. It was just as gray and worn and untouched as the rest of the facility. Not even the dirt was remarkable. It reminded him of the hospital.

Ohya held the key out to Goro.

“I’m assuming you want this to be a ‘just you’ kinda thing?”

The gesture was something he should’ve expected, but didn’t. It made him hesitate for a moment.

He took the key. “I appreciate it,” he said.

“No sweat.”

He got out of her car, and she drove off to the end of the row. She stayed parked within general sight of the unit. It was essentially pseudo privacy, but neither of them knew how long he’d be in there, and who knows what this could trigger. Ohya also didn’t seem like she knew a thing about amnesia. He wouldn’t look to her for comfort of any sort, but there was reassurance in her being a safe figure.

He took a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. This was his step one. He’d gotten himself into some deep shit, his past self hadn’t seemed to have a shred of self preservation in mind. Had he not encountered Ohya, he could’ve been dead by the hands of the crooks that call themselves the police by now. He had a lot more steps to cover, and each one would be riskier than the next. He was much more on his own than he realistically should’ve been. Most people had friends, as far as he knew. But this was seemingly his own fault. He wanted to know why exactly it was his fault.

One more deep breath.

He inserted the key into the lock, and grabbed the handle of the metal shutter. He pushed up, and with a squeak of rust and a bang of metal, he opened up his door to more dangerous times.

And it was nearly empty.

It was barren concrete. Newly disturbed dust was floating about. It was eerily quiet, and the stale air made his throat itch. Cobwebs stuck in the corners, barely visible in the low light of the setting sun. Though he wouldn’t call it underwhelming.

In the center of the floor was a cardboard box. About medium sized, without a lid. It matched well with the rest of the room, lined with dust and unaltered. He kneeled in front of it.

It was its contents that felt much more exciting. There were papers, lots of them. Thick manila envelopes full of information for him to flip through. He scooted back towards the entrance and pulled the box along with, trying to get the last of the light funneling in to help him read.

It was heavier than he expected, and he didn’t know how much to attribute that to his current lack of strength. He took out the first envelope and it, despite the dust, was clear and candid. When he flipped it around, he noticed with eagerness that there was writing on the front. He tried to make it out as clearly as he could, and in careful handwriting, it read: “05/21/2020— Case No. 1471”

It was a case file. He pulled out another envelope, and it was similarly marked. His interest was surely piqued. There must’ve been some sort of relevance to these, if they were going to be so pointedly left here. He pulled out a third, and then a fourth, and from the weight he’d expected many more. But, the pile ended there. Instead, what filled the rest of the box was another, smaller, wooden one.

He took it out delicately, gripping it securely around the sides to ensure he didn’t drop it. This seemed much more… personal. Shiny cherry wood, latched but not locked, just small enough to sit on his lap firmly. A thought that couldn’t help but be excited came to mind.

This could’ve belonged to me.

He wasted no time. He undid the latch, and it gave a satisfying click. The hinges creaked just barely as his clammy hands lifted the lid, and pulled all the way back, until it rested hanging by itself.

Inside sat more papers. Some were crisper than others, some had obviously been crumpled and then flattened out again. But there was consistency in each of them being folded neatly in half, stacked neatly on top of each other.

He picked up the one from the beginning of the pile, unfolded it, and was surprised to find it had hardly been written on; a simple “To you,” at the top. This was a candidate that had been clearly wadded up and discarded. He set it down carefully, and picked up the next.

This one hadn’t been written on much, either. It said even less, just “Hello.”

He picked up another, and another. It was all soft stationary, each topped with slightly different wordings, and some decorated with a couple lines, even. But they were all just about the same, a simple greeting, and then resigning.

They were letters. Or rather— drafts for one. So he’d learned today that he was indecisive, maybe a bit quick tempered, but potentially also at least organized. He assumed the existence of these drafts meant he’d never gotten around to sending his letter, either. And perhaps he’d never get such a chance, if this visit didn’t convince any muggy memories to creep out of their caves.

As he pulled out drafts and read his pathetic one-liners, he came across a page that was different. There was actually a fair amount of content on it, over a paragraph's worth. It had obviously also been cast aside, but even a spare scrap could be useful to him, in this state. He used the last of the remaining light to read it.

“To whom it may concern,

I would like to skip the inherent shamefulness of writing a letter to you, of all things, in my introduction, and I will title this ambiguously under the assumption that if you believe this does truly not concern you, that you will save me the mortification of reading through it anyways.

I won’t formally phrase this as a farewell, but you should take it as one.

Our unknowns are too great to write, and while you were not innocent, neither am I, and there are truths between the two of us that shouldn’t have remained unspoken. I’ve never thought to run from the blame.

My hands are not clean, and maybe they never will be, but they can still carry you home when you’re ready to sleep.

Perhaps a fact I recognized too late.

I do not want to say goodbye, however I—“

It cut off.

The letter left a lump in Goro’s throat. He read it through once more. He wanted to analyze each sentence down to its core, but the light had died out. But there were bits and pieces, words that suck out in his mind. “Farewell,” “Innocent,” “Unspoken.”

“Too late.”

Goro bit down on his lip hard. The case files— those he understood. With the life he’d allegedly lived and the people he’d known, of course something like that would be predominant. They were fact on paper, ignorant of bias, they’d be full of names and leads. They were important. But, he didn’t understand why these almost-letters had been left here. Out of anything that could’ve been kept. Had there been someone he’d felt so strongly for? To be kept in safety behind lock and key?

To identify this person— that could be his next goal to achieving his memories. To ignite the fire of their eventual reunion, and perhaps they could know what happened to him. They could come easy, though he suspected that anyone who he’d decided to be so rottenly open with wouldn’t be typical. But, they would also know him, past the media, past the appearances.

And, though he wasn’t going to admit it, he’d needed something more hopeful to work towards.

He put the papers back where they belonged, placed the entire case back into the cardboard box, and stacked the case files back atop it.

There was no telling how old these letters were. They could’ve been from much before his incident. But this set him up for a goal, a big one, that might get him back to whatever meager place he’d left himself in.

He picked up the box, and prepared himself to head back outside to Ohya. He needed to muster up his resolve, because this was only the first out of two very important clues this visit could provide.

He positioned the box onto his waist, and took one last look into the dark before closing up his unit. He returned to Ohya’s car, pulling open the door without so much as a greeting, and set the box on the floor in front of his seat.

Ohya leaned forward, interested. “That a box you got?”

He wasn’t going to talk about the embarrassing letters he found. Even if he wanted to, his second clue came first. “It’s not that important right now,” he lied. “Is your contact still here?”

She raised her eyebrows at him, but let the topic drop. “Sure is. She can’t leave ‘till we leave.”

Good. “I need to speak with her.”

She hummed in reply, seeming very curious by his idea. They drove back up to the entrance, Ohya not questioning his motives, but still giving him an inquiring side eye every so often.

They got out of the car together this time, and walked into the front office. The woman was reading behind the counter, almost completely in the dark, with only a desk lamp lighting her work area.

She glanced up at them, and placed her book upside down. “Hey there. You got that key?”

“Yes,” Goro replied. He placed it lightly on the counter. She took it without a word, and got up to put it back on its hook. Goro stopped her before she turned. “I have a question for you.”

She seemed a little surprised. She glanced between him and Ohya, and then put her free hand on her hip. “Okay?”

He hoped he could push his luck just a bit further today. He’d made it this far, after all.

“Is there any way I can see the documentation that was filed when this unit was made?” he asked.

The woman pursed her lips. “Ohya?”

Ohya put her hands up defensively. “Don’t look at me. This is all him.”

The woman stared at Goro. He stared back. This was arguably the most important part of the visit. He needed to see those papers. Just a single particular part, it was the one factor that needed an explanation. He would not leave until he got that documentation, and if he had to stand his ground and pull her leg a bit to get it, he would.

After their staring contest lasted just a moment too long, she folded her arms. “Jeez. Only because I feel bad for you, okay?” she huffed, turning on her heel. “And because my niece liked your food blog.”

She disappeared into the back of the office, leaving Goro feeling just a bit full of himself. He would think about the food blog comment later.

Ohya lightly punched his arm. “Okay, good going. But whatcha going to do with that?”

“There’s something I need to check,” he replied flatly. It made Ohya grunt unenthusiastically.

The woman returned with a few papers, all paper clipped together. She tossed them onto the counter. “This is a customer copy, okay? So feel free to keep it.” She glared at Ohya. “And, I’m going home now. So, get out, please.”

That got a laugh out of Ohya. “I know I can always count on you to bend a couple of rules for me.”

“Out.”

They left the building, Ohya waving her last goodbyes while Goro rushed to the car. He needed to get some light on these papers, it was long past sundown now. He slid himself into the car, clicked on one of the lights, and went to work reading, all while Ohya was still walking over.

Ohya opened her door and stood outside watching him, leaning on the frame. First, it was with interest, but it soon turned into irritation.

“Kid, tell me what you’re looking for. You’ve got your eyeballs all over that thing,” she said.

He didn’t let their conversation stop him from reading. He kept his eyes glued to the page, checking each word and box before moving on.

He did owe her an explanation. Getting his thoughts out would help him focus a bit, anyway.

“These sorts of things— storage units. Wouldn't they be paid for recurrently?”

Ohya went quiet for a moment. “They are,” she said, and joined him in the car. “Shit. Those funds can’t be coming from you, can they.”

“Exactly. I’m looking for the responsible billing party.” He turned onto the next page. None of the handwriting matched what he’d seen on his papers and files, which further confirmed to him that this unit hadn’t been one he’d purchased himself. Whoever this was had put all that information in there, those cases, those letters. He suspected they weren’t his mystery recipient, but he could confirm that with them once they’d met.

Why this had been done in his name, though, was beyond him.

He flipped onto the last page, and found his prize. Big black bolded letters asking for the responsible parties name, and neat penmanship filling in the blank.

“Sae Niijima,” he read aloud.

Ohya gawked.

“‘Sae Niijima?’ Seriously?” she scoffed to herself, and sunk down further in her seat. “She’s an attorney. A damn good one, too.”

An attorney? He wondered how she could’ve known him. “She’s the one paying, apparently.”

Ohya tapped long slender fingers onto her steering wheel again. She dropped her head. “Guess that means she’s our next lead, huh?”

Goro adjusted himself in his seat. “It does.”

“Ahh, man,” she complained. “You’re really somebody who’s in with the big guns, you know. You better let me have some exclusive with you after all this is done, or something.”

Goro gave way a hint of a smile. Probably his first since he’d woken up. If this would be the last of his luck, so be it. He hated to rely on something so shifty and mischievous, anyways. This was a start, barely a sprout, to whatever his big picture was. But he’d see himself to the very top.

Really, he’d already died once. Hardly a way to go but up.

“We’ll see.”

#thank u for the aaaask!!!#this is shuake but akira is actually not in it at all whatsoever #also im so sorry i know the ending is. unsatisfying.#i just realized if i wanted the most satisfying ending possible this would go from 8k to like 32k at least #maybe once i post all these prompts on ao3 ill consider adding chapters to this cause i do like the premise #this is also like. my first published non comedic piece. so a lot of this is experimental for myself #anyway i hope you enjoy!!!#my fics #ask #anonymous #my p5 fics

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summahsunlight · 4 years

Text

All For You, Part 4

Rating: T

Word Count: 2010

Pairing: Poe Dameron X Pilot!Reader

Summary: Your life in the Resistance was not easy, being married to Commander Poe Dameron and a skilled pilot yourself. When you unexpectedly get pregnant, your life is forever changed. Raising a child on base is hard, but never having parents of your own as a child, you are determined to love your little girl and give her the best life. Poe is equally as devoted to you and your daughter, vowing to keep you both safe from the impending threat of the First Order.

Taglist: @thescarletknight2014, @elmoakepoke, @xxidontwikeitxx, @liadamerondjarin, @marvelofwitch, @blushingwueen, @april-14-blog

Here is the next part! The taglist is still open, just let me know if you want to be added🥰Feedback is always appreciated! I love to hear from you!

Poe looked at the anticipation in the eyes of his squadron--as they waited for him to confirm what they already knew--no thanks to BB-8. He swallowed, nervously, his brown eyes traveling to you for a second. You were positively pale--then again, that could be because you were still not feeling well and had nothing to do with the fact that your secret had been revealed.

Snap drummed his fingers on the table, catching Poe’s attention and the commander could see that the rest of the squadron was eagerly awaiting him to say something.

Reaching underneath the table, Poe found your hand and grasped it. “Yes,” he said, slowly, calmly, “we’re having a baby--we didn’t tell you guys because we’re still wrapping our heads around it ourselves. It wasn’t like this was...ah... planned.”

“Are you... are you going to raise the baby here?” Jess asked, quietly.

“Yes,” you replied, “where else would we raise our baby?”

Karé, Snap, and Jess all exchanged glances. “Well,” Snap said, “it’s just seems to make more sense if... the baby went to live with Poe’s dad--I mean, is a base really that safe for a baby?”

Poe hadn’t told you yet, but he had taken into consideration--a lot of consideration--about having his dad take the baby. He knew this would be incredibly difficult for you, knowing that you were abandoned as a baby--but it was the safety of your child you were talking about. “We haven't really discussed it.”

You threw him a look. What did he mean by that? You had discussed it, when you told him that you were pregnant you had made it clear that you wanted to raise your baby. No where in that conversation had you discussed shipping that baby off to Yavin IV to live with Kes. “Yes, we have,” you said, annoyed. “We agreed that we’re going to raise the baby here.”

Snap knew immediately that he’d set a fire and now desperately tried to put it out. “Ah, well, if you are going to raise the baby here--we’ll all be here to help you--anyway we can. My mom always said it takes a village to raise a child, so we’ll happily be your village.”

“If you need someone to baby-sit, we’re willing to do it,” Jess supplied.

“And if you don’t trust the droid killer--Karé and I are available.”

“Hey! A baby is different than a droid! I can take care of a baby!”

“I dunno if Poe and Y/N are going to feel comfortable leaving their baby with you, Pava.”

Jess glared at Snap and Karé; she might have reputation as being bad luck for droids, but she would never let anything hurt your baby. Poe and you were family and thus that baby was family. “You guys are the worst.”

Poe smiled, lightheartedly. He knew that his friends would be there if you needed help with the baby--but they had important jobs within the Resistance as well. He knew that you were mad at him; he could see the seething look in your eyes when he said that you hadn’t discussed where the baby was going to live. Oh, the two of you were going to have it out once you got back to your room. “We appreciate your offer to help,” he said, looking at his friends. “But... we’re all rather busy here.”

Karé nodded. “Exactly why you need all the help you can get, Poe. We might not be parents, but we’re not stupid. We know this is going to be hard and we want to be there for you guys. You’d do the same for any of us.”

Finishing the food you had not wanted to eat to begin with, you stood, said you weren’t feeling well, and wished them all good-night. Black Squadron watched as you stormed out of the mess hall.

“If you need a place to stay--our couch is available,” Snap said, smiling.

“Am I crazy in wanting the baby to go live with my dad?” Poe asked.

“No,” Jess said, shaking her head. “You want the baby to be safe--maybe Y/N can go with the baby to live with your dad?”

It was an idea that crossed Poe’s mind but he knew you would never go for it--you were just as dedicated to the Resistance was he was. Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his face. “Thanks, guys,” he said, standing up. “I’ll see you in the morning. I need to go get this ass chewing done and over with.”

As Poe walked away, Snap called out after him, “Remember! Our sofa is always available to you, Dameron!”

----

Once you were back in your quarters, you flopped down onto the bed in a sob, which caused BB-8 to perk up and ask if everything was okay. Screaming into the pillow only seemed to alarm the little droid more and he was half-way towards the door to go find Poe when you shouted at him to stop.

BB-8 turned and rolled towards you. Sitting up on the bed, you wiped your eyes. “I’m sorry, BeeBee. I’m...tired and angry and I shouldn’t be taking it out on you. It’s not your fault.”

Falling back onto the pillows, you stared up at the ceiling. You knew that Poe’s heart was in the right place--wanting to send your baby to live with Kes--but at the same time you couldn’t believe that after everything you had been through, he was still thinking about it. You refused to abandon your baby like you had been abandoned. Refused. Poe was just going to have to understand that.

“So, should I just grab my things and head to Snap’s?”

“I dunno, should you?”

Poe sighed, heavily, and rubbed a hand over his face. “Sweetheart, do you honestly think I just want to dump our baby on my dad? I hate the idea; I know how much my parents hated leaving me--but right now I cannot justify raising our child here--not with a war looming in the not so distant future.”

You sat up and glared at him. “Even after I told you how much I wanted to raise our baby--that I didn’t want to be like my parents and just leave--you still want to hand our baby off to Kes? It’s like you didn’t even listen to me, Poe.”

He licked his lips. “It’s not a decision that I take lightly. It breaks my heart to think about leaving our baby, but we need to think about what’s best for the baby--not us, sweetheart. My dad is more than willing to take the baby until this is over and we can go home.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks. “What’s best for our baby is to be raised by its parents--not left behind! I won’t do it, Poe! I won’t leave my baby! I know it’s going to be hard, I know that it’s going to change a lot for both of us! And now, you tell me you’ve already talked to your dad! How could you leave me out of decision like this, Poe?”

“Because I knew this is the way you would react,” Poe said, calmly.

“And yet you did it anyway,” you snapped.

“I don’t want to argue. So, I’m gonna stay with Snap tonight.”

“There’s nothing to fight over. We made our decision already.”

Poe looked at you, his brown eyes intense. “Do you think this was easy for me? All I want is to keep you and the baby safe. I know I’ll never be able to convince you to walk away from the Resistance--my dad was the next best option. You and this baby are my life, sweetheart! I would give up my life for you if it meant protecting you and our baby!”

You could barely see him through all your tears. You knew how much you meant to him, how much the baby meant to him--and you knew that he would do anything for you to keep you both safe. “Please, Poe, please don’t make me give up my baby.”

BB-8 chirped, sadly. Poe glanced at his droid and let out a loud sigh. He reached for your hands and pulled you to your feet, wrapping you into his arms. You buried your face into his chest and sobbed. You were hating how this pregnancy was messing so much with your body that you couldn’t control your emotions. His hand rubbed your back, the other cupped the back of your head--and he just let you cry. “I won’t make you give up the baby. Just promise me that if the time comes when it gets too dangerous for the baby, that you’ll take the baby to Yavin and stay with my dad.”

That seemed reasonable and you knew it was, but for whatever reason you just sobbed harder. Poe’s arms tightened around your shaking body. “Maybe we should have asked Doctor Kalonia about giving you something for your mood swings,” he teased, chuckling softly.

“Not funny!” you snapped into his chest. “I hate this! I hate crying all the time! And I hate being angry and scared and... I just hate this! I hate feeling like I don’t have control of anything right now!”

“I know, baby,” he said, gently. His lips brushed against your cheek. “Does it help to know that I love you no matter what kind of mood you throw at me?”

You sniffled. “It helps a little.”

Poe kissed your cheek again. “I love you; no matter what.”

Some days you felt like you didn't deserve him; today was one of those days. He was just trying to take care of you and the baby and you had gotten furious at him. Now, you were crying in his arms and he still loved you.

Gently he lifted you off the floor and carried you to the bed, softly laying you there. Pulling off your boots, Poe smiled at you. “I think it’s time for you to get some sleep, babe. Obviously you’re tired and stressed--that isn’t good for the baby.”

“Do...do you forgive me for all the awful things I said?”

“Already forgotten, sweetheart.”

“Why are you so good to me?”

“Because--you were the only girl to put up with me.”

Half giggling, half crying still, you pushed him away playfully. You had been painfully shy at flight school--Poe had pulled you from that shell, he had befriended you before he fell in love with you. Although, he would often tell you that it was love at first sight for him. “Not true. Lots of girls would have put up with you if meant getting a date with you.”

Poe cocked a smile. “True,” he said, leaning forward and kissing you. “I was madly in love with you though from the moment I laid eyes on you. Drove my roommate crazy. Besides making me the happiest guy on campus when you agreed to a date--you made him the happiest guy because he didn’t have to listen to me rant on and on about how much I wanted to ask you out.”

“I remember him... he was cute.”

“He’s also married, now. Him and his husband are very happy.”

Yawning, you laughed. Poe stroked your cheek with his thumb and coaxed you to fall asleep. “Are you still going to stay with Snap?” you asked him, watching him, lazily.

Sighing, Poe continued to trace circles in your cheek with his thumb. “If you want me too.”

Shaking you head, you started to drift off. “I want you to stay. I’m not...I’m not angry anymore.”

“I have reports to finish. I won’t keep you up?”

“No, you won’t keep me up.”

Poe chuckled as you fell fast asleep. Getting up off the bed, he tucked the blankets around and went to the desk to complete his reports. And you were right, his working didn’t wake you.

#star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #200 followers celebration #all for you

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

kiss me in the d-a-r-k .epilogue iv.

monday night

masterlist

Warnings: dub con sex (oral, intercourse)

This is dark!(dad)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader has a late night.

Note: #ficdaddy #afterworkwriting #naughtythoughts #whatamidoing? Okay, so here’s more but might be a little break til the next because I’m exhausted and I’m thirsty but ya girl is also a disaster. Thanks everyone for your support and indulgence in my #pornfic lol🔥🔥🔥 I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply!

...

By the time you got off the subway, your fatigue had washed away your shock. The whole ride home, you felt him. Felt the afterglow slake away and the ghost of his touch. You swore it was a dream. A very vivid fantasy but you just wouldn't wake up.

You walked the block from the stop to your building with your hands tucked deep in your pockets. The city was overdue for snow. You shivered as your boots scuffed the pavement and you stopped dead just in front of the steps. There was a familiar car across the street. A rover, to be exact.

The horn tooted as your eye narrowed on the tinted window and the door opened. Steve stepped out and waved as he looked both ways down the street. You winced and tried to hide your anxiety. You were a terrible liar, worse with him. He saw through you like a window.

What was even doing here? You’d told him you were busy. How long had he been waiting? You sighed and dropped your shoulders.

“Hey,” You greeted him stiffly. “What are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t help myself,” He reached out with a gloved hand and rubbed your arm. The gesture reminded you of Bucky. You gulped. “Tell me you’re not planning on turning in already?”

“I was planning on cramming for my exam,” You countered. “Not much sleep to be had these days.”

“I can help,” He smirked, “Keep you on task.”

“Really?” You challenged with a scoff. “I think I’m better off alone.”

“I swear,” His breath clouded in the frigid evening. “Come on, you can’t leave me out in the cold.”

“You really wanna hang around and watch me study?” You asked.

“Help,” He corrected you. “Come on, years of helping with homework has prepped me for this very night.”

“Alright, if only to get out of the cold.” You relented and dug for your keys. “I hope you don’t mind clutter. My apartment is...small.”

You led him to the front door. He was close enough that his warmth radiated over you. He climbed the stairs after you and you were out of breath by the time you got to your floor. He wasn’t. How pathetic you were. After a struggle with the janky lock, your door jolted inward and you welcomed him into your college nest.

“I know you don’t like coffee, but I can make you a tea?” You set down your bag as he closed your door. “I, uh, just toss my coat on that chair.” You laughed at yourself as you unbuttoned your jacket.

“You know what, I could use a coffee,” He removed his coat and folded it over the patched armchair.

You placed your jacket on his and pulled your boots off. “I was just gonna have some leftover pizza. Want a slice?”

“As gracious a host as you are a guest,” He looked around the small space. “Make your coffee. Get your books out. Tell me what you want. I’ll order in.”

“You really don’t have--”

“Ah,” He raised a hand as he pulled out his phone. “You have studying to do. Let me worry about dinner.”

You agreed with a nod and went about setting up the coffee to brew and dumped your text and notebook on the bed. Steve went through the options and you settled on Chinese as you poured milk into your mug and set it on the table beside your bed. You sat at the top of the mattress and opened your textbook.

He ordered and sat across from you. He pulled your notebook over and flipped it open. “What course is this?”

“Public discourse and Social Trends. Third tab.” You instructed and squinted at him. “What are you doing?”

“Helping,” He folded the notebook back and his eyes glossed across your writing. “Put that down. Quick review. Then you’ll know what you need to work on.”

You tilted your head and pursed your lips at him. “You should be in your hotel, enjoying the view, or the pay-per-views, or the minibar. You shouldn’t be in this hole helping me revise all this...garbage.”

“I am right where I want to be, sweetie,” He intoned. “Now stop stalling.”

It was just past midnight. You’d gone through all your notes and the cartons of fried noodles and sweet and sour chicken. Two cups of coffee as well. You sat with legs crossed as Steve reclined across the bed and closed your notebook. He yawned and tossed it atop your textbook. You leaned back on your pillows, his yawn was contagious.

“Alright, you’re free.” You said. “I feel...better.”

“Better? You got this.” He replied.

“I hope.” You muttered.

“Ugh, haven’t had a night like this since...since me and Bucky were in college.” He grinned. “Did you know we went to the same uni? I was in business, he was in Lit. That was his first degree, my last. He always was a do-gooder.”

You nodded. You picked at the corner of your textbook and kept your eyes to the bedspread. You could feel him staring at you. Shyly, you glanced up as the heat grew unbearable. “What?”

“I meant what I said...about Bucky.” He lifted a brow. “Would do him well to loosen up. You too.”

You swallowed and clenched your jaw. You chewed your lip, unsure how to divert the conversation. “I don’t…”

“Wait,” He sat up and the mattress shook beneath him. “You...already did it?” You looked at him, “That was your appointment?”

“Steve, I--”

“Oh, sweetie, that’s...wow. You see, you should enjoy yourself.” He reached over and squeezed your knee. His hand lingered. “Explore.”

“I wasn’t thinking. It happened so fast. I-I-I…” You huffed and hung your head. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t do that.” His hand crawled up your thigh as he moved closer. He pushed your books aside and sat next to you. “I’m proud, sweetie.”

“Proud?” You said confused. “For fucking my professor.”

“For being you.” He leaned in. “Tell me,” He kissed you and wrapped his arm around you as he pulled you close. “How did you do it? Were you on top? Was he?”

“Steve,” You warned and tried to wriggle away. “Really.”

“I wanna hear,” He purred. “Come on, tell me.”

You licked your lips and thought. You shook your head at your helplessness. You knew he wouldn’t let up.

“We were in his office,” You started quietly. “I...kissed him.” You cringed as you recounted the scene. “I shouldn’t have but...uh, he kissed me back...Steve, I can’t…”

“Go on. You’re doing fine,” He urged as his fingers traced the line of your vee.

“I was on the desk first and he...used his fingers.”

“Did you cum?” He rubbed just along the top of your thigh.

“Yes,” Your voice was raspy as your lip trembled. “Then he turned me around and--” Your lips moved but no words would come.

“He fucked you against his desk? Oh, Professor Barnes,” He mused as he picked your fly open. “How unprofessional.”

“I…”

“Did you cum again? While he was in you?” He asked. You nodded as he slipped his fingers beneath your jeans. “No panties?”

You closed your eyes as his fingers hovered just above your clit. “He came in them. I had too take them off.”

“Fuck,” He breathed. “That’s fucking hot.”

“It’s...I could lose my scholarship...he could lose his job.” You gasped as he flicked his fingertip over your bud.

“He has tenure and who’s gonna know? I’m not telling anyone,” He pressed his lips to your cheeks and rubbed you with his finger. Slow, tantalizing; enough that your thighs began to tingle. “It was nice, wasn’t it? The rush? Up in his office like that?”

“Y-y-yes.” You confessed.

“Like the summer? Kylie just down the hall...asleep. We could’ve been caught so easily,” The glimmer of guilt at the reminder was muted by the lurid thrill. “Oh, sweetie, you’re so wet already. Is it for me or him?”

You bit your lip and breathed through your nose. You shook your head. He stopped and you looked to him sharply.

“Tell me.” He demanded.

“Y-y-you…” You blurted out. “...and him.”

“Tell me what else you want him to do? How do you want him to fuck you?” He tickled your cheek with his nose as he inhaled your scent.

His finger began to moved again and your eyes threatened to roll back. Your thoughts blurred together and the last of your willpower drifted away. Your lip quivered and your voice rose in gasps.

“I want his mouth on me. To feel his beard against my thighs.” You grabbed his wrist as the sparks flew and bounced around your core. “To drink me up until I cum.” Your voice thinned. “I want him to push my legs up and fuck me until I scream. I want him to be rough with me. To not stop even when I beg--” Your breath caught as the coil wound tight. “--when I beg him to--STOP!”

You slipped from his embrace and pushed yourself back against the pillows. Your thighs squeezed his hand and as you lifted your pelvis and came loudly. You shook as you dove over the edge and plummeted to the depths with a shout. Your hand rested on his as he stilled his fingers.

“Can I fuck you, sweetie? Like that?” He slowly pulled his hand from your jeans.

You nodded frantically and caught his hand. “Please,” You panted. “I want you. Not him. I want you right now, Steve.”

He smirked and bent over you to kiss you. He drew his hand away from yours and as he sat back he ran his fingers along your lips. You opened them and he shoved them inside. You tasted yourself on him and sucked on them with a hum. His eyes darkened at your reaction.

“Anything you want, sweetie.”

He pulled his fingers away and climbed off the bed. His pants were tented with his arousal. You shoved your jeans down your legs and your socks caught in the bottom as you tore them off. You took your sweater off next and unhooked your ratty bra. You really needed a new one. You looked over as he rolled his briefs down his thighs. You liked to think none of the guys your age looked as good.

“Lay down,” He pointed to the pillow. “And don’t you move.” You laid back and he got back on the bed. “Bend your legs. Yeah, like that, now, apart. Very good.” He knelt between them and his eyes shone down at your pussy. “God, you look just as good as you taste, sweetie.

He bent and he slowly ran his tongue over your clit and along your folds. You gasped and reached down to touch his greying locks. He shoved your hand away and growled. You kept your hands on your chest, cupped your tits as you watched the top of his head, His tongue flitted up and down, each time faster, and he swirled around your bud so that your hips bucked.

You began to mewl. You sounded animalistic. Your legs closed around his head and his hands spread across the back of your thighs. He pushed your legs up until your knees were almost to your chest. He kneaded the flesh and purred as he lapped you up. You arched your back as he plucked at your deepest strings.

“S-Steveee.” You came with a drawn out moan. His name floated above you and he tended to you until you were breathless.

Slowly he lifted his head. You looked down at him as he deliberately licked his lips. He kept hold of your thighs as he got to his knees and positioned himself against you. His cock slid between your folds and along your clit. You shivered and reached out to him.

“Ah, keep those hands to yourself, sweetie,” He tilted his hips back until his cock poked at your entrance.

His eyes fell between your legs and he watched as he impaled you an inch at a time. He pushed his shoulders back and sighed as he reached his limit. Your walls clung to him; longed for him. He pushed your legs until your knees were against your chest entirely. He rocked into you once and you squealed.

He did it again. A similar reaction. He thrust, each time waiting for your response. You got louder and louder as he sped up. Delving deeper and harder. His flesh clapped against yours between your cries and a bang came at the wall, warning you to quiet. But you couldn’t.

You stretched your arms out and grasped at the blanket. He snarled as he pounded into you. He had never been like this. Always decisive, but never rough. Never this carnal. This incensed. You bunched the bedspread in your fingers and keened as another orgasm tore through you.

You quaked as he didn’t waver. He had you pinned to the mattress, helpless. Not that you could’ve have pushed him away if you wanted to. His thick muscles bulged beneath his skin as he thrust into you. He didn’t fuck like an old man. At least, you assumed most men his age weren’t so ferocious.

It wasn’t long before you came again. The banging on the wall stopped. They’d given up. He had your ass off the bed, your back curled as he pounded into you. He found your clit and teased you as he drew forth yet another orgasm. You were dazed.

“Steve...Steve...please, no more, I c-can’t.” He slammed into you and chuckled.

Your words turned to murmurs. Pure gibberish as he ignored you and carried on. He grunted and his motioned stuttered. He bared his teeth and growled as he pulled out. He kept hold of one leg as he stroked himself with the other. He came all over you, the warmth seeped between your folds and along your ass.

Slowly he sat back and let your legs splay around him. You were both out of breath. You felt around blindly, felt his cum all over you as you spread it around.

He climbed over your leg and fell down beside you, out of breath. He smiled and closed his eyes as he caught his breath. You rubbed your forehead as your wits reassembled. What a long day. Both of them in less than. How had you gotten tied up in all this?

“Steve,” You ventured and he opened his eyes.

“Yes, sweetie,” He turned his head to look at you.

“Why are we doing this?” You asked weakly.

“I…” He clamped his lips shut and thought. “Well, I’ve done the right thing; got married, had a family, white picket fence. It’s boring. Fake. I don’t want fake. You get to my age and you realize there really isn’t any harm in doing what you want instead of what others expect of you.”

“Oh,” You considered his words carefully. “Have you done this before?”

“What do you mean? Have I fucked any of Kylie’s other friends? Of course not. Never even fucked anyone more than a couple years younger than me. Didn’t have the time, or the energy.”

You nodded and stared at the ceiling. Afraid to ask your next question. “Why me?”

“I...At first, I just thought you were cute. I don’t know what made me kiss you in that hot tub, or why I even invited you, but I knew that night, I needed you.” He traced circles along your stomach. “And you needed me. To show you before it’s too late that it’s okay to be more than cookie cutter.”

His words reeled in your head. You were surprised; that you asked; even more that he answered. And he sounded honest. And if he wasn’t being earnest, you’d learn another lesson from all this.

All you could do was enjoy it while it lasted.

#dad!steve rogers x reader #professor!bucky barnes #dad!steve rogers #stever rogers #Bucky Barnes #fic #Steve Rogers #i don't really know how dark this is anymore lol #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #au #marvel #series #kiss me in the d-a-r-k #captain america

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doing-all-write · 5 years

Text

don’t be a baby part 2

Pairing: Billy x Fem!Reader

Summary: After losing Billy, Reader doesn’t know what to do with herself. After receiving some news about a millionaire who’s been murdering people, she convinces Billy’s old Sky Walker crew to train her so she can take him down. But the mission doesn’t go as planned and suddenly, there’s a man offering her a position on an elite team...

Read part 1 HERE

Word Count: 14K

Warnings: Swearing, blood, fight sequences, needles, mentions of smut and talk of depression.

A/N: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY AND HERE IT IS!!! Part two of don’t be a baby!! Thank you all so so much for your patience, I wanted to be sure this story was perfect and I hope all love it! Once again, a HUGE thank you to @itsabenthing who is always a wonderful source of inspiration and helps to keep me on track and to @mrhoemazzello for hyping me up at all times and for letting me bounce ideas off her!! And don’t worry...there will be a third part 😉

💖💖As always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! 💖💖

365 days.

That's not a long time.

A year on Neptune is the equivalent of 164 years on Earth. Bowhead whales can live up to 200 years. The Methuselah tree is 4,700 years old.

365 days is nothing.

What's one lousy year in the grand scheme of things?

Compared to one day.

24 hours to have your whole world ripped out from underneath you. To believe that up is down and down is up. To feel your feet leave the earth as you pitch forward into a tunnel where time passes both far too quickly and not quickly enough.

One 30 second phone call can feel like the longest thing in the world.

To some, 365 days may not feel all that long, but to others?

365 days is far too long.

~One Month After the Funeral~

“(Y/N)? It’s me. You doing okay?” Mark winced when he realized how dumb that question was.

Setting the bags of food down on the kitchen table, he opened the fridge. His heart clenched when he saw the food he had put there a week ago sitting untouched.

It had been the worst right after the funeral. When he came over on the days following the funeral she would be in the same clothes he had last seen her in, staring at the wall or ceiling. On good days her cheeks would be dry, on bad days? The tears would soak her pillow case.

He had nicked Mary, Billy’s sister’s, number from (Y/N)’s phone. Figuring that Mary may have some professional resources she could recommend to get (Y/N) the help she desperately needed to pick herself back up.

After a few weeks of her catatonic state, she started moving more. But it was almost worse. She was like a zombie.

He’d tell her maybe she should shower or eat and in slow robotic movements she’d do what he asked, then crawl back into bed. Eyes empty. Flat.

The passivity broke his heart.

There hadn’t been a time when Mark and (Y/N) had been growing up when she wasn’t passionate about something. When that familiar light in her eyes had burned bright.

Without it, it felt like looking at a mannequin of his sister.

Sighing, he loaded the new food into her fridge. Taking the old stuff out he figured, if it wasn’t moldy, he could feed it to Jean, who was like a human garbage disposal. He claimed grief made him starving.

As Mark stood up, he faced the bedroom door and felt his shoulders slump forward. He knew what was waiting for him on the other side and he didn’t want to see it. He knew he was a coward but part of him just wanted to walk out the front door and pretend that his sister was on the other side, totally fine, she was just sleeping and he’d come back next week and she’d greet him with a smile and a hug.

Something he hadn’t seen in, well, in a month.

Feeling his shoulders creep up towards his ears as he stood outside her bedroom door, he made a conscious effort to relax them.

“Hey, (Y/N), you awake?”

Nudging the door open, he peered into her room, taking stock of it. It looked exactly the same as last time he had checked on her. The soft rise and fall of her side underneath her blanket the only movement. Taking a moment to capture how serene she looked, he quietly closed the door behind him, taking a minute to send up a plea that he would do anything, anything, for his sister if it just meant that one day he’d see her up and out of her bed.

A buzzing by her ear woke her up. Groaning, she slapped her hand around the bed, trying in vain to stay semi-unconscious. The buzzing came faster, one right after the other, reminding her of how her phone had acted the day Billy’d died. Heart dropping through the floorboards, her eyes flew open.

Sitting up and shoving the blankets back in one quick motion only caused her to hear a loud thud. Cursing, she crawled over to the edge, allowing her top half to go limp as her bottom half stayed put on her bed.

Pushing her hair back with one hand she turned her phone over to see what was happening. News alert after news alert was scrolling in. They all said the same thing,

Local Billionaire Accused of Dumping Toxic Waste in Ocean.

Her eyebrows knitted together as she read the remainder of the story. There was something tugging at her subconscious as she read. This billionaire, Chase Casewell, had a reputation for being a real prick and after using his family's money to get through business school and have his first idea fail (an app that told Influencers when the best time to post would be) he had made his millions by starting a brand that specialized in shoes, ugly beige monstrosities if she remembered correctly.

It had just come out that he had instructed the plants that made his shoes to dump the waste into the ocean. The chemicals they’d used had poisoned the water supply, causing the fish to become infected with the chemicals. Then, the local fisherman would catch the fish, take them home to their families, eat them, then the fishermen and their families would end up in the hospital.

Her hospital.

She sat bolt upright as she remembered the string of mysterious illnesses that had ended up in her ward a few weeks before she had met Billy that first time. If the victims were lucky, they ended up puking their guts out for a few days and, after being hooked up to an IV to re-hydrate, she’d send them on their way.

Others would linger for a few days then quietly slip away. The chemicals flowing through their bloodstream till their veins ran thick with poison, where it finally creeped up to their heart where the poisons would wrap themselves around their most vital organ. Suffocating it until it gave out entirely.

The one that had affected her the most was Isabella, a small girl with dark braids and a love of Frozen. The only thing that’d make her smile was when (Y/N) would come in with a stuffed Olaf and have him ask her for a warm hug. She had been holding this little girl's hand, watching Frozen when her heart just...gave out.

She had gone to the funeral but shame and guilt burned bright inside till she felt like there was a beacon surrounding her, letting everyone at the funeral know it was her fault that Isabella had passed away.

As the pieces clicked together in her mind she felt an inferno roar to life inside her. It burned away the sadness and despair she’d been wallowing in ever since Billy left only to leave behind rage and guilt. The emotions boiled in her stomach, bile climbing up her throat as she stumbled to the bathroom

Collapsing over the toilet, heaving and retching, she knew nothing was coming up but her body worked overtime to expunge the horror she felt in any way it could. Her body spasming as waves of emotions crashed through her system.

Several minutes passed till she finally felt the nausea start to ebb. Slumping against the wall, she hung her head over the toilet as she took steadying breaths, making sure that her body wasn’t going to rebel again.

When she lifted her head, she had made a decision.

"Alrigh', alrigh' I'm coming. Quite your bloody knocking you crazy-"

Jean's rant was cut short when he saw (Y/N) on the other side of the door decked out in black athletic gear, hair pulled back in a tight braid. Jean's eyes widened as he made contact with her own eyes. A fire could get started with the steely glint that was reflected back at him.

"I need you to train me."

"T-train you?" Jean's hands were instantly coated in sweat as he contemplated what she was talking about.

"Yes. Like how you trained Billy and Mark. Train me to be a Sky Walker. I can do this."

Jean rubbed a hand down his face, "(Y/N)...it's late. Maybe we should sleep on this-"

"NO." That one word leapt from her throat in a growl, causing Jean to step back, half shutting the door. Slamming her hand against the door she switched tactics, "Please Jean. There's this prick who's dumping toxic waste into the ocean. So many people were sick and at my hospital because of him." Swallowing thickly, her eyes grew unfocused, "They died...under my watch."

Jean's shoulders slumped at that admission. With Billy’s death overshadowing everything, he forgot that in her line of work she saw more sickness and death than even he had seen.

But this was the first time since the funeral that he had seen her up and moving. It was the first time that her eyes held any sort of emotion. He couldn’t bear to be the one that extinguished it. He couldn’t do that to her. Or to Mark.

Heaving a sigh he flung his hands up, "Fine. We start in the morning,” Her eyes widened and a small smile crept across her face as she stepped forward into his apartment until he held a hand out to stop her, “Now let me go back to sleep so I don't pass out on you mid training session and we both die."

~Three Months After the Funeral~

Are you ready for it?

The bass thumped through her headphones, as her fists made contact with the punching bag in front of her in time to the beat. Staying light on her toes, she bounded back and forth, jabbing, punching, upper cutting, swaying in and out as she danced around the bag.

She had been here for hours. The 24-hour gym had cleared out earlier, now it was just her and other people who couldn't sleep or worked weird hours.

As the last line of the song faded she put her hands on her hips, pacing over to her backpack.

Rooting through it, she located her water bottle, taking long pulls from it as her heart beat slowed down.

Boxing had been one of the only things that was able to take her mind off of, well, everything.

That and running. Everyone and their mother had told her to try yoga after they’d heard what happened, telling her it would help to "quiet her mind" but the more time she spent sitting still, the more she could feel Billy's hand slipping from hers as he walked out of her apartment for the last time.

She gave it up when a panic attack had taken over her system in downward dog.

Activities that let her be alone, that let her get her aggression out, were the most beneficial.

Plus, it helped with the Sky Walker training she’d been receiving from Mark and Jean.

After she’d shown up at Jean’s door that night, she arrived on his doorstep bright and early the next morning, knowing that she’d have to knock extra loud to make sure Jean actually woke up. Which is why it shocked her that before she could even knock on the door, Jean had swung it open to reveal him and Mark standing in front of her, looking for all the world like two parents ready to scold their child for staying out past curfew.

Smirking she shrugged, “Sorry I missed curfew.”

Mark’s mouth twitched and she knew that, with him at least, she was off the hook.

They had sat her down, gone over basic safety information, how they practiced moves on the ground first so they could get comfortable executing them and then took them up into the air.

Mark’s heart broke at how alert and interested she was. It was the first time in months he saw her engage with others and it killed him that this was what it was taking to bring her back from the brink.

Ever since then, she had been training with them to prepare for this mission, to learn the necessary skills she’d need to break in, to keep herself alive. She had convinced Mark and Jean that the plan she had for Chase was a one-woman job. She told them that if she couldn’t pick up on everything in six months then she would let one of them help her on this mission.

But she knew she wouldn’t need their help. When Mark and Jean taught her how to fight, how to dodge opponents, how to protect herself in a fight, her Nurse Brain kicked into high gear.

When they’d break down certain tricks she was able to picture the exact muscles, ligaments and bones that would need to be strengthened, how they would need to move to be able to complete the move perfectly.

She was even able to break down fight sequences just from observing her opponents moves. Looking at how certain muscles tensed, what foot they’d lead with, how their fist was turned, it all helped her get the upper hand in any fight.

Knowing pressure points and which joints were the weakest were an added benefit during these training sessions.

(After she almost dislocated Jean’s knee, he had limped away, bellowing about how she needed to seriously remember who the enemy was and it “bloody well isn’t me! I like the ocean! I’ve never even been to Sea World, that’s how much I like the ocean!”

All of it added up to her progressing in her training more rapidly than Mark or Jean felt comfortable with.

They couldn’t help being impressed though. She was mastering moves that had taken them years to nail down. But she took to it with a single-minded determinism that worried them, especially Jean.

Training was all (Y/N) cared or wanted to talk about. Mark told him that she’d started working out at all hours. Lifting, running and boxing being the newest activity she had added to her repertoire and while he felt it was a smart move, he couldn’t help but be worried. Every time she was training, he’d seen a fatalistic look in her eyes. It was a look he was all too familiar with, it was a common look in Sky Walkers. But those individuals were always the highest risk cases.

Those were the Sky Walkers who didn't value their own safety. They kept pushing and pushing until mortality pushed back and said, You want to keep going? Fine. You pushed too far and now I'm going to punish you.

The worst part was, in his experience, there was no use trying to tell those individuals to slow down. They inevitably sped up to spite the person who told them to slow down. Jean didn't want Mark to lose his sister too.

After a particularly intense training session, he hesitantly brought it up to Mark who only snorted,

"I already lost her."

"What do you mean?"

Mark shot him an incredulous stare, "You're kidding right? You've seen how much she's changed since Billy left. That's not my sister. I still hope like hell (Y/N)'s underneath this new exterior but...I don't know who this new woman is. And frankly, I don’t want to know who she is.”

She hadn’t told Mark but she’d heard him say that. She knew she wasn’t the same woman but this was the one thing in her life that had made her feel alive since the funeral. She didn’t want to give it up.

They’re just going to have to get used to it. She thought as she unwrapped the bright pink wraps from her hands. Rooting through her backpack, she made sure she had everything. Slinging her bag over her shoulders, she queued up her running playlist.

Striding toward the front door she gave the obligatory head nod to all the members still in the facility.

Shoving the door open, the wind that had buffeted the building all night slapped her in the face. Eyes tearing up, she adjusted the straps of her backpack, hit play and started to jog back to her apartment.

Demons!

Come on!

You've got a vision,

You're on a mission!

~~~

He almost missed her.

The all black clothing she had taken to wearing, combined with how the last vestiges of red in the sky were quickly being overrun by the inky black of the night sky made him worried she’d left without him realizing.

Seeing the door open, light spilling out and illuminating her form, he breathed a sigh of relief. Watching her jog off into the night, he leapt up from his crouched position on the building next door to the gym.

Giving (Y/N) a head start, he waited a few beats before taking off after her. Keeping her in his sight but sticking close to the shadows. Every time he saw a form approaching her, he put on a fresh burst of speed; anxiety spiking through his blood at the prospect of her getting in harm's way helping him to power through. After they passed without incident, he breathed a sigh of relief.

He had done this for a few nights now.

One had told him they wouldn't head out to HQ for a while, something about needing to wrap things up but he didn't question it. It gave him time to check on her.

Recently, he was getting nervous that she had started to...he hated sounding like a hippie but...she had started to sense his presence.

Like their souls burned too brightly together so the universe made it so they would never be lost in the dark as long as they were near each other’s light.

A few weeks ago, he had been following her to her apartment after she left Mark and Jean's. He had been wearing all black, a few feet away, on the roof of a building far above her.

She had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, tilted her head up and stared right where Billy had been standing. He’d dropped like a rock to the concrete floor of the roof, trying to stifle his breathing, which after almost passing out, realized would be insane if she could hear that.

There had been several other times where there was no possible way (Y/N) should have been able to tell where he was and yet...

She'd look up, right in the direction of where he was and every time, he sent out a plea, See me. Please. Know that I'm here. That I love you. That I never wanted to leave you. Just, please.

Please don't think I broke my promise.

~Seven Months After the Funeral~

She thought the knuckles on her hand were going to pop out of her skin.

Clenching the steering wheel, she chastised herself for making this process so exceedingly difficult.

Just let go of the wheel. She scolded herself, Release your finger. Just the pinky finger. It won't be too hard. C'mon, don't be a-

She cut that thought off quickly.

Too many memories weighed down four little words and if she wasn't careful, they would drag her into the inky blackness of depression. She couldn't risk it. Not with a mission coming up.

The breath leaving her mouth shuddered out of her like the wind through an old house. Her chest felt too tight, like each breath made her lungs smaller, not bigger.

This isn't how he'd want to see you.

Like a flash of lightning, the thought illuminated everything and for a second, the world was crystal clear. Her fingers slipped from the wheel only to land dully in her lap, where they curled in on themselves so they looked like dead bugs.

Snorting, she figured it would be appropriate they looked like dead bugs considering she was in a cemetery.

Sun shining down, the sky a cloudless blue, made it impossible to not think of his eyes and how they had looked at her in the full light of day. That one day they’d had together.

Those perfect 24 hours.

Funny how time constricts and bends so some events pass in the blink of an eye while others pass by like a train at a train crossing when you're running late to work.

Shaking her head, she bowed her head and closed her eyes. The darkness was a welcome reprieve. But not always.

Sleep had become the bogey man at the end of her bed. Sleeping wasn't a relaxing activity, it was prey she had to stalk and take down before it could get her. It wasn't that there were so many nightmares plaguing her, it was just one nightmare.

It was horrible enough that most nights, she didn't even fully fall asleep, it was more like a deep meditative state. The thought that that one nightmare could overwhelm her was enough to make her not want to sleep ever again. The first time the nightmare came to her was a week after his funeral:

Fog would be swirling around her, swallowing up everything in her path. Taking hesitant steps forward, Billy's form would become clearer as she moved forward. Her heart beat speeding up as she saw Billy peering over the edge of the building.

Suddenly, realization would crash into her like a train. This wasn't just any building. This was the building that Billy had last been seen running across. Knowing that there was nothing on the other side, she would rush forward to warn him, to pull him back, to crush his body to hers and never let him go.

She needed to warn him, to save him. But no matter how fast she pumped her legs, Billy stayed the same distance away. His legs would tense and that's when she'd start screaming. Her vocal cords stretched to their breaking point as she rushed towards him. But before she could reach him, he'd leap into the air, disappear into the fog and...

That's when she'd wake up. Face wet with tears, the last of her screams dying in her throat.

She always screamed the same thing.

Billy! Stay!

The first few times she hadn't realized she was actually screaming those words aloud until a neighbor of hers knocked on her door, asking her if she was okay.

She never knew how to answer that question.

It was such an odd one. Mark and Jean asked her that all the time. Whenever they did, she'd grit her teeth and spit out that she was fine because how else was she supposed to answer that question?

"Actually Mark, Jean, I'm so glad you asked because I'm not okay and I probably never will be again because the only man I ever loved and trusted, up and broke said trust! Oh, and did I also mention he's dead?"

That's how she wanted to answer their asinine question but by the time she felt like she could get those words out, most people had moved on from Billy. Because people always do.

But not her.

Though, it hadn't taken long for her to want to sleep with someone else. She figured it would help her heal.

At the very least provide a necessary distraction.

It was always the same.

Normally, they'd lock eyes across the bar. Raising her glass of scotch she got every time she went to the same bar with the sticky floors, burnt out bulbs and rickety chairs, she'd lift it towards him in a kind of salute. When he'd smirk back and do the same, she'd quirk an eyebrow only to throw back the drink in one go. The thud of glass on wood signaling to the bartender to pour her another.

Nine times out of ten, their eyes would immediately become hooded with lust (every now and again, one would take a drink at the same time and choke on his own drink at the action.) A smirk would play across his lips as he'd bring his own glass to his lips and drain it in one go.

Men. God forbid a woman out do them in anything. She always thought ruefully as she'd watch her next victim unfold themselves from the bar stool they were seated on to slip into the empty seat next to her.

There were rules. She refused to sleep with blondes. She had one time. She had moaned out Billy's name and immediately started crying. When the man with her had tried to comfort her she had pushed him away, screaming at him to get out of her apartment.

The other rule was, no sleepovers. Having men sleep over usually meant they overstayed their welcome and she didn't want them getting comfortable anymore than she wanted to spend the night in a bed that wasn't hers.

Once the rules had been established, it was the same shit with a slightly different dude. They'd engage in flirty banter, a well-timed arm touch, a glance up at him through her lashes, one more drink and then they'd be in the back of a Lyft, hands everywhere, and then a few hours later she'd be back in a Lyft (one time, the same Lyft driver who had dropped them off had picked her up, alone, offering a hive five as she got out of the car) to go back to her apartment.

Alone.

Most nights she wondered why she did it. Why she was constantly hunting for that same jolt of electricity that she’d had with Billy. Every time her encounters ended, she always wondered what the point of doing this was. Why did she bother when every man she interacted with came up hilariously short?

She had tried to make it work, to forget him, but the entire time some man would be kissing her, caressing her, touching her, there was always a part of her that was thinking of another man's tattooed, calloused hands on her body.

A rap on the window caused her to jump, clenching her hands back into fists as Mark waved, sheepishly, at her from the other side of the glass. The flowers grasped in his fist swayed in the breeze.

Stepping out of her car, Mark moved to hug her. Holding out her hand to stop him she growled, "I'm already on edge. Don't make it worse." Striding around him and towards the plot of land where the box that Billy was supposed to be in laid dormant under the soil.

A place holder.

Nothing more.

Mark's shoulders sank as he watched her go. Physical contact had been difficult for her since Billy had gone. It was small, but he noticed. Every time he pulled her into a hug when she showed up at training, she'd stiffen, then it turned into her barely reciprocating until she refused them altogether. It made his heart ache, she used to hug everyone no matter if they had known each forever or four minutes.

But then again, she'd just become more withdrawn in general. It broke his heart to see it. Watching her light fade and dim, it was like a star becoming a black hole.

Crunching through the sun dried grass toward the plot, she kept her head down, barreling towards her destination. Figuring that if she walked faster, she could outpace her thoughts before they could catch up with her and the realization of where she was and where she was headed could crush her.

This was the first time they were visiting Billy's grave since she’d started training to become a Sky Walker. Mark and Jean had tried to get her to go sooner but it hadn't been until Mary asked (Y/N) if she would meet her there did she finally acquiesce.

The only memory she had of Mary was after the funeral. Watching Mary and her mother walk arm in arm back to their car, their shared grief following them like a cloud.

At that moment, (Y/N) had envied them. They had each other. Their shared love for Billy would be a balm, it would help them try to heal. She only had herself and her memories. Neither of which were particularly warm or comforting at the moment.

"Whoa, easy." Two hands wrapped around her biceps, bringing her to an abrupt stop.

Looking up, she was met with the same sky blue eyes that Billy had, framed by lashes that were almost as long as Billy's. Blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, Mary smiled ruefully at her, "Just trying to get this over with huh?"

Forcing herself to swallow over the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, she nodded wordlessly. Mary's eyes took in her form, noting how her clothes seemed to hang on her, the dull, flinty look her eyes had. Mutely, she linked her arm through (Y/N)'s, pulling her into her side.

Taking a deep breath, they both turned to look at the headstone in front of them. Seeing his name carved into stone caused her heart to speed up. Scolding herself for being so silly for getting twitter-patted over his name. What was she, fourteen?

But she couldn't help it.

"It's weird."

Humming in acknowledgment, (Y/N) didn't know if Mary meant them being here together, the fact that her brother was dead or just the world in general.

"It's weird that that little line," Mary gestured toward the line in between the numbers that marked when he had been born and when he died, "is supposed to represent his whole life. Everything he said and did. Everyone he loved."

The emotional toll of hearing those words uttered by his sister caused all of the air in (Y/N)'s lungs to leave, her heart to splinter into even tinier parts. Wobbling, she grasped Mary's arm tightly as Mary wound another arm around (Y/N)'s waist to keep her upright.

“(Y/N!) Easy, you okay?"

The weight of Mark's hand on her shoulder helped ground her in reality. Her twisted reality where it wasn't Billy's hand on her shoulder. And it never would be again.

Straightening up, she tugged on the end of her coat, shaking her head, "Yeah. Yes. I'm fine. Just, it's a lot."

Mark nodded, eyes taking in his sisters appearance, trying not to seem too shocked that this was the most she had revealed her feelings to him, to anyone, in the past few weeks.

Locking eyes with Mary's blue ones over top of (Y/N)'s head, he mouthed a quick thank you in which she inclined her head to show she understood.

Mark had been in contact with Mary constantly. First it was getting names of counselors and support groups to help his sister heal, then it turned into them talking and developing a...something. They had developed a relationship that neither were sure what to call but seeing her here caused his heart to flutter.

Feeling (Y/N)’s shoulders rise and fall, he lifted his arm so she could step out from underneath them, "I'll see you guys later."

Opening his mouth, Mark tried to protest but when he felt Mary's hand land on his bicep, he closed it. (Y/N)'s all black form grew to be a small speck on the blue horizon.

He was surprised the whole ground didn't open up to swallow her at that moment. She looked like a specter of death. But he supposed what she really was was worse. She was a casualty of death, and there was no hope for that.

~Nine Months After the Funeral~

A few months of intense training later, after she had executed one of the most difficult tricks Jean and Mark had designed, Jean finally told her she was ready to go after Chase.

"Fucking finally." she groaned, wiping the sweat from her face with the bottom of her shirt, “I’m going to rinse off and change, then meet me at my apartment!” she yelled over her shoulder as she raced to the locker room.

Jean nodded and several minutes later, hair still damp, raised a fist to knock on her front door. Before he could knock, the door swung open to reveal her laptop open and her kitchen table covered with charts, maps and blueprints of Chase’s compound.

“What took you so long?”

Jean whistled as he took it all in, "When did you do this?"

"When I first read that news article about Chase. So..here's what I'm thinking." Laying out her plan, Jean couldn't help feeling impressed. It was foolproof. He was also relieved that all she wanted was to bring Chase to justice, share his personal files with the government and the entire Internet so she could expose him then get the hell out of there.

As she laid out the plan she was careful not to mention how much Chase needed to pay for all the lives he took with his negligence and selfishness. She kept emotion out of her tone, just the facts, as she walked Jean through her plan to bring Chase to justice.

But she knew justice wouldn’t be enough.

Justice was never enough for people like that. Because the rules of justice were skewed so men like that always got off scot free. In her heart of hearts, she knew it didn’t matter if she leaked every atrocious thing he’d ever done. He'd be back out in the public eye in a few years and no one would bat an eyelash because he had money, power and privilege. The three most essential ingredients to make any good villain.

She wouldn't be able to live with herself if this man was able to walk away. If she didn't do right by Isabella, she didn't know how she'd be able to continue living with herself.

"From there, I'll get the files, download them to the flash drive, hack into the mainframe, deposit them there and then get the hell out. Minimal damage, minimal casualties, maximum impact."

"That's how most people describe having sex with me."

"I don't have time to unpack how distressing all of that is right now but, what do you think? Is it doable? And will you and Mark help me?"

Jean's eyes scanned the blueprints before him. He saw how her fingers were beating an erratic beat on her thighs, how her feet constantly shifted as if she wanted to take off in a million directions at once. This was the most animated he'd seen her in weeks. He knew this may be their only chance to really get her settled, let her burn off some steam with a mission and then they could get her back to her old self.

Heaving a giant sigh, he hung his head down, "Fucking fine. We'll do it. BUT," his head snapped up and almost felt bad when he saw the smile that had slipped across her face fade. Almost. "You listen to us. Mark and I have final say in all of this. Got it? We've done this before and while you'll be the one in the field, we have markedly more experience so let us do what we do best. Got it?"

He stuck out his hand for her to shake. Her (Y/E/C) eyes flitted over his features, seeing if he'd break or if he was just pulling her leg. When she saw nothing but sincerity looking back at her, she slipped her hand into his. "Deal."

Jean almost started crying when a sparkle caught his eye, her thumb had a final bit of pink sparkly nail polish on it, making him wonder if he had made a terrible mistake.

~A Week Later~

"I'm in."

Part of her always cringed whenever she said those two words. She couldn't help but think of a shaggy haired, pre-pubescent 12-year old, huddled over their laptop, fingers clacking frantically, the glow of their computer screen the only thing illuminating the Mountain Dew bottles surrounding them.

But, it just came with the job she supposed.

Creeping along the hall, she checked over her shoulder. Feeling the familiar flutter of adrenaline spike in her stomach, she reached for the package that was hidden in her pocket. As her fingers brushed over its cylindrical shape she felt her shoulders relax. Then, she moved her hand down further to make sure the knife she’d strapped to her thigh was still firmly in place, that really helped her to relax.

She quickly sent up a thank you to Cassandra, wherever she was, for leaving her knife sharpening kit at Mark’s place. The linoleum underneath her feet reflected the dim red light that ran along the length of the hallway.

"In 20 feet you're going to reach the checkpoint. Remember, there's a big ass-"

"Grid of invisible wires, yeah yeah. I know, Jean. We went over this a million times."

"Well, with how little you pay attention during those meetings I'm surprised you can even remember the address."

"How about you shut the fuck up and let me do my damn job?" she snarled into her comms.

Blocks away, Jean ripped his headset off to shake his head at Mark who just sighed, eyes never leaving the computer screen where his sisters grainy form was seen lurking towards the wire netting, "I know, dude. I know."

"Fucking Billy. If only he hadn't-"

"Jean. Please. We all still wish he was here. Don't make it harder."

Huffing out a breath, Jean turned back to the keyboard, shoving his headphones back into place as he deactivated the alarms to the rooms (Y/N) needed to get in to.

Throwing a strand of her hair into the hallway, she nodded when it settled to the floor without getting zapped.

"You really don't trust me, do you (Y/N)?

"I trust you, I just don't trust the security protocols in this place. A fortress like this has to have backups of the backups."

"Bitch! That's why we're here!"

Snorting at how high Jean's tone had gotten, she continued prowling toward the door that led into Chase’s inner sanctum. He didn't let anyone but a select few into the room that was waiting for her at the end of the hallway. It was where he kept all of his documents, where he entertained foreign emissaries and got them to sign off on him dumping his toxic waste in the water because who cared about people's health when he could make a few more dollars?

Shaking her head to straighten her brain out, she took a deep breath as she tread closer to the intimidating mahogany door that loomed before her.

Glancing down, she saw the pad to the left of the door, they needed a retinal scan to get in. She waited as from miles away, Mark's hands were flying over the keyboard as he worked his magic. Using a close up image of Chase's eye they had captured a few weeks ago, he embedded it into the code for the lock. When it lit up green she smirked, "Thanks, big brother."

"Don't thank me yet. Expose that fucking loser and come home safely. Then we can talk."

Nudging the door open, she made a beeline for the imposing white desk in front of the picture window looking out over, ironically, the ocean. Rolling her eyes, she briskly walked over to his computer. Fingers gliding over the keys, fishing around in the pocket of her black athletic leggings, she cursed, "Why the FUCK do women's pockets always have to be so small."

"It's just another way for the patriarchy to keep you down. Hard on, sister."

Pausing in her actions, she raised her eyes up, fixing on a distant point as she opened and closed her mouth, ready to correct Jean when Mark's voice rang through her comms, "He's got the right spirit. Just let him have this."

Shrugging, she bent down to the task at hand, inserting the USB, opening up files and dumping them onto the Internet and sending them to the entire UN Embassy, every government official, Greenpeace and the whole world to condemn this monster.

As she finished uploading the last of Chase’s files to the EPA’s mainframe, she heard footsteps approaching.

And right on time.

"Uhh, (Y/N)? Don't mean to alarm you but Chase himself and four armed guards are barreling down on you. Get out the window NOW and meet at the rendezvous point."

Hearing how Mark's voice shook on the last word caused her to pause for a fraction of a second, wondering if she was making the right choice. Like a flash, she shook herself from her stupor and straightened up. Pulling the USB out of the computer she dropped it into her pocket, reaching a finger up to disconnect her comms, "I know. I planned for it. Sorry boys. I’ll see you on the other side" She clicked her comms off just as she heard Jean and Mark start to protest.

Closing her eyes, she rolled her shoulders. Reaching back into her pocket she took out the extra package she’d been carrying and set it on the desk.

Carefully, she extracted the vile and needle that was inside.

When the door burst open, all Chase saw was a woman, silhouetted by moonlight, holding a needle up to the light, tapping it a few times.

"Nice of you to join me, Chase. Won't you sit down?" she murmured.

"Who the fuck are you, you crazy bitch? I have the entire government on my ass, PETA has threatened with more than one lawsuit and the FBI, EPA and other three letter entities aren't far behind to pick me up and haul me off for the rest of my life. So," he stepped to the edge of the desk, slamming his palms down, "I'll ask one more time. Who.The. FUCK. Are. You?"

Watching the last air bubble pop, she smiled. She had never felt so calm in her life and when her eyes dragged from the needle to meet Chase’s, he was surprised to see a serene looking woman staring back at him.

"You killed people. So now I'm going to kill you."

And she lunged forward.

Her hand came down holding the needle, aiming for the largest artery in his neck. Eyes widening, he stumbled back, arms pinwheeling. Knocking the needle from her hand, she watched it twist through the air, the moon reflecting off the glass and then she lost it as it hit the plush carpet without a sound.

She didn't have too much time to think about it because all of a sudden the four men that had come in with Chase were on her.

Leaping onto the desk, she wrapped her thighs around the neck of the man closest to her. Thanking Mark for bullying her into never skipping leg day, she squeezed her legs around his neck as he spun wildly, trying to dislodge her. Hands scrambling at her thighs, he dropped to his knees where she unwound her legs from his shoulders, dropping to the ground and turning in one swift motion, she kneed him in the face, turning to the next man as the one on the floor tried in vain to stop the fountain of blood flowing from his nose.

Another one was right on her as she aimed a punch right to his midsection, hearing an “OOF” leave his mouth, she kicked his legs out from underneath him. As he landed, she raced in between his legs, located his kneecap and with a twist of her wrist, dislocated it with a sharp POP.

With a howl, he rolled around on the ground as the one with the bloody nose limped over to help. Breathing heavily she turned, only to be faced with the other two bearing down on her.

Jesus, she thought, Star Wars always led me to believe the bad guys would come at me one at a time. Not all at once.

It was the last thought she remembered having before she could only focus on trying to make it out alive.

One of the men grabbed her arm, she grabbed his wrist, finding a pressure point and bore down until his fingers loosened around her wrist. Not letting up, she snapped his wrist and kicked him in the groin.

As he slumped to the ground, the other one grabbed her ankle, yanking her leg out from underneath her causing her to face plant into the carpet. Her hands scrabbled for anything to hold onto as he dragged her body towards him. Twisting, she reached for her knife. As he reached a hand down toward her throat, she brought it up in one quick motion.

She rolled away as the man screamed in agony as he searched for his missing finger. Scrambling to her feet, she felt something collide with the back of her head. Her vision began to swim as the carpet came up to meet her face once again. She’d forgotten about the first guard who had been attending to the second man she’d taken down. Now, he stood over her, teeth bared, blood still flowing from his nose, gun cocked and aimed right in between her eyes.

"Wait!"

Chase's form became clearer as he knelt down beside her, "You don't deserve to die by a bullet do you?" He cooed as he stroked a finger down her cheek. Turning her head, she tried to snap at his finger but the quick movement caused her to retch.

Laughing softly, she heard the tap of fingernails hitting a glass vile, "You deserve to die by your own little concoction. It’s much more poetic, don't you think?"

He leaned over her, bringing his mouth to her ear as he caressed her arm, rubbing two fingers over the crook of her elbow, "Like Romeo and Juliet but, darling Juliet" she hissed as he stabbed the needle into her arm, "This time, Romeo will live. And he'll win." He pressed the release and she felt a tear leak from her eye when suddenly, the world exploded.

Glass fell over her form like stars falling from the sky as the bright lights of a stealth helicopter illuminated the room. The man with the bloody nose whipped his gun toward the window, firing rapidly but quickly crumpled as someone strode right up to him, and shot him point blank.

Chase scrambled up, hands out in front of him, "What the fuck is this? Are you CIA? FBI? Listen, I have more money than God, I can set you up for the rest of your life. You'll never have to worry-"

A gunshot was the only answer Chase got.

"More than one person can have more money than God, ass-wipe." The figure kicked Chase's body as he walked past him, his form swimming before (Y/N) as the poison leaked into her blood stream, "And besides," he knelt down by her form, fingers searching for a pulse, "I use reusable straws because baby turtles are cute as fuck."

Her head lolled to the side as she used the last bits of her strength to see who her savior was. A man with a rugged face stared back as he moved to crouch behind her, cradling her head in his hands as he yelled to someone behind him to hurry the fuck up.

A second face looked down at her as she felt her eyelids begin to close, the hushed sounds of the man holding her head offering soothing platitudes as she made peace with the fact that she was about to die.

As the second person rifled through the medical bag they had been carrying, hurriedly pulling out instruments, the last thing she heard was the man whispering into her ear, "Come on darling. Hold on for me. Hold on for him."

~Three Days Later~

Bright.

That was her first thought as her eyelids fluttered open and immediately closed upon being assaulted by blinding white light.

For a wild second she thought she had gone to heaven.

"I know what you're thinking. Is this heaven? No. It's not. Because if this were heaven I'd be smoking a fat blunt, drinking the finest gin while lying on a nude beach where no living person could bother me. People like you."

The squeal of chair legs being dragged over the floor caused her to flinch. The voice that spoke was dry, making her wonder if this man ever took anything seriously. And also if he could read minds.

"Pretty good stunts you pulled out there. You learn that shit from watching Black Widow too many times?"

Silence. She tried to keep her breath steady so maybe he would think she was still asleep.

"Sweetheart, I just saw your eyelids crack open a second ago. There's no way in hell you dropped back off to sleep that quickly."

"Shouldn't I be dead?" It felt like her vocal cords were two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together. The sound that was expunged from her throat was a dry husk.

"Should be but, like Chase, I have more money than God and a crack team of experts. One of whom happens to know exactly what was in that vial and the antidote for it. You've been stable and asleep for three days now."

He saw her eyebrows twitch, which he figured was the most reaction he would get out of her.

Keeping her eyes closed made it easier to digest the information he was throwing at her and to keep her poker face in tact. The voice sounded familiar to her, but she couldn't place where or when, she’d heard it before.

"Is he-?"

"Dead? Yeah. A half dose of poison most people can come back from, but a bullet right through the skull? Much like Humpty Dumpty, we can't exactly put that back together again."

She felt her lips twitch and scolded herself for letting any emotion show through.

"He deserved it."

"I know. And you deserve to use your skills in a better way." Her body stilled, her breath stopped for a beat and when it resumed, the monologue continued, "I have...fuck I hate sounding like Samuel L. Jackson but I have a team. And we could use someone like you."

Another scraping sound, the soft rustle of fabric moving as the voice sounded like it was coming over her, "Think about it. And I'll contact you. Don't worry. I always keep my promises."

Her hands clenched, the veins popping out as those five words washed over her like a cold shower.

The clenched hands were all the reaction he needed.

Hearing his footsteps get softer she reached a hand down and felt a piece of cardstock brush against her finger tips. When the door closed, she cracked open an eyelid to look down at it, but it was blank.

~~~

Closing the door, One leaned up against the hallway, letting his head knock against the wall of the hospital.

Four had warned him.

But this made things incredibly interesting.

Or difficult. It all depended on how he wanted to view the situation.

And what she wanted.

After the funeral, One’d kept a close eye on Four. He knew what kind of pull love could have over a man. And Four was young. The youngest on the team in age, sure, but he let his feelings get the better of him a lot of the time which made him seem even younger.

Which could be dangerous. And they were already in way too much danger as it was on a daily basis so he needed to nip it in the bud.

Closing his eyes, he thought about the first time he caught Four.

~Two Months Ago~

It had been quiet.

The wind whistled through the various holes that littered the planes, causing sand to get whipped up along with it, tornadoes forming and quickly collapsing.

One had been awake. He rarely slept but he had been in the Case Room, going over some files. Trying to decide what their next mission needed to be when he heard a noise.

Keeping his body still, he strained his ears to see if he would hear it again. When he heard the floor creak, he crept to the door, peering out to see who or what it could possibly be.

Seeing the familiar shape of Four's hoodie, he rolled his eyes. When he saw him creep into the control room, he became suspicious. He knew how tempting the draw was to check on the ones you cared about. But with how emotionally fragile Four had been since he'd joined, he didn't think this was the best idea, but he needed to confirm that’s what he was doing before he blew up on the kid.

Pushing the door open, he walked down the hallway, being careful to tread lightly so as not to alert Four to his presence till he absolutely needed to.

Using his years of training, he placed his body precisely so he could look into the room but Four wouldn't be able to see him should he look around. Which, he didn't think would be an issue. Four was engrossed by the screen in front of him, One didn't think a nuclear explosion would cause him to look up.

Taking his chances, he slunk into the room. Four had footage of an apartment pulled up on the screens. Three people, two guys, one girl, standing around a table. Four had headphones on so One couldn't hear the audio but it looked like the individuals on screen were in the middle of an intense argument.

Nibbling his thumbnail, Four's eyes were laser focused on the woman as she gesticulated wildly. Blueprints, computer screens and maps littered every available surface of the apartment and One recognized the planning stages of a mission. He got a little closer and recognized the girl on screen as the same one who had been at Four's funeral.

Four had told him his background on the trip over to HQ. One figured the other two were the ones that were left over from his original Sky Walker crew.

(He’d roasted Four about that dumbass name for weeks afterward.)

Shaking his head, One heaved a sigh and reached forward to snatch the headphones off Four's head.

"HEY! Who the bloody hell-" Four's frame twisted up and out of the chair only to come to an immediate stop when he saw who had his headphones dangling from their fingertips.

"Didn't know The Bachelorette had a new season running! Are they in the hometown segment?"

Four blinked at him, "It's really distressing you know that much about The Bachelorette."

"What's really distressing is the fact that you're checking up on her. What the fuck do you think you're doing Four?"

"Look, I'm sorry but-"

"No. There are no buts here. Even if her butt is really nice, you gotta put it behind you dude. Especially her."

"I know that, One but-"

One had started pacing back and forth as he warmed to the topic before him, "Do you know how much money is on the line here? How much is at stake? Our lives, our very existence, this could all blow up at any point and we could die. For real. Or, even worse, the government comes in, blows up our spot and we get sentenced to death. Or worse, jail. And you yourself have such fond feelings of, what did you call them? The pigs?" One shot Four a disgruntled look at that statement, noting how Four's hands were clenching and unclenching in an attempt to stay cool.

"Look, One, I just-"

Rounding on him, pointing a finger in his face One roared, "No, Four, you just. You clearly don't want to be part of this team. Clearly I made a mistake in asking you to be part of this if you can't get over the little school girl crush you have on this girl you slept with once and she sucked your dick so well that you mistook it for love-"

His air supply was cut off as Four slammed One up against the wall. The tattoos decorating his hand popped against his skin as he gripped One’s windpipe in a steel trap. For the first time since bringing Four onto the team, One was truly afraid of him and understood why he was so good at what he did.

The look in Four's eyes cowed One immediately as Four growled out the next few sentences, "You listen up right here, right now you fucking prick," Slamming his head back into the wall One saw stars, "Her name is (Y/N) and she is worth more than any person on this damn planet. She's the best person I’ve ever been with and I’m damn lucky she even deigned to give me the time of day. She’s the reason I even joined this bloody insane operation, so show some fucking respect or I'll have no problem slitting your throat and moving on with my life."

One's vision was getting black around the edges as he frantically nodded his head at Four’s words. Four let him go where he collapsed to the floor on hands and knees, coughing as Four paced around the room, scrubbing at the shaved sides of his head with his fists.

After a few seconds of coughing, One rubbed at his throat as he pushed himself up, "You're fucking crazy, dude. Really glad I recruited you. That's the kind of attitude we need out in the field."

Four shook his head as he let out a humorless laugh as One brushed his hands off, "You don't understand One. You never will."

"Cut the emo bullshit. We're not in Twilight. We're adults, just tell me what-" He stopped as Four swiftly turned to face him, eyes pleading,

"She became a Sky Walker, One. She's doing what I used to do because she doesn't think her life has any meaning and that's bullshit. She's my everything, okay? She's the reason I get up in the morning. She's the reason I do this damn job. She's the reason I keep myself alive out there. She's my guiding light. She's the sunshine on a cloudy day and-and” he waved his hands around uselessly as he tried desperately to pull another cliche from thin air, “I don’t know, man. She’s every other cliche you know about how someone makes your world better and she's putting herself at risk because of me"

One stood stock still as Four took another deep breath in, the fire in his eyes going from an inferno to embers as he stared at the screen where it showed her bending over the blueprints, tracing a line with her finger, "She's the love of my life and-" taking a shuddery breath in One felt his own eyes start to get misty, "Her light is the one thing that keeps me going in this miserable world. And if she's gone, I don't know if I'll make it." A tear made its way down One’s cheek as Four admitted this last part on a whisper.

One wasn't sure he was supposed to hear that last part but there was stillness as the room held its breath as it waited for what One would have to say,

"Alright. What do you need from me?"

Four's eyes snapped to One's. Stepping closer to One, his eyes roved over his face, trying to tell if he meant it, "You're not messing with me are you?"

"Not in this regard. Probably over something else I will but, what would make you feel better?"

Four took a second to contemplate it, "If she does seem like she's in trouble with this mission, we rescue her.” His eyes widened as he took another step closer to One, “AND, you offer her a spot on the team."

"Four-"

"One it's this or you lose me for good if she-she- '' Four's voice cracked as he turned his head away. Not even able to finish that horrible thought.

One’s heart squeezed in his chest. Christ, he thought, I’m more invested in their relationship than any bystander should be.

Groaning, One rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Fucking fine. I'm so going to regret this but...fuck it. If it seems like things are going sideways, we'll step in. I'll offer her a place on the team." Four started to smile but One stepped forward, pointing a finger in his face, "You have to meet with her before she makes her final decision though. I can offer it to her but she gets the final call if she wants to do this thing with us. With you. Got it?"

Nodding frantically, Four closed the gap between the two of them and wrapped One in a hug, "Oh, so we talk about our feelings for two minutes and all of a sudden we're into hugs? Weird."

Four let him go and with one last look at the screens, bade One goodnight.

Watching him leave, One turned to the screens, watching her analyze the blueprints, writing notes on them occasionally. Leaning on the back of the rolling chair One sighed, "Oh (Y/N), you have no idea what you've done."

~~~

Reaching into his pocket, One slide his phone out, shooting a quick text to Four,

She’s awake. And alive. Now we wait.

Heaving a sigh, he glanced down the hallway to see Seven approaching. Making eye contact with One, he raised his arms up as if to say, Well? What's happening?

"Fuck if I know. She's insane.” At Seven’s bug eyed look he quickly backpedaled, “In a good way. I don't think she's insane in, like, a psychological way. Just grieving."

"Oh good because grief is such a good emotion to grapple with in this line of work. Oh, and by the way did we mention that the man she’s grieving is actually alive and well?"

"You know, sarcasm is really ugly on you. Luckily, I'm not ugly so I can wear sarcasm well."

Snorting, Seven slumped against the wall next to One, letting his own head thud softly against the wall. Crossing his arms they both stared ahead at an unknowable future.

Seven broke the silence, "What really happens now, One. I mean, I know she's good, we all saw her in action. Taking out all four of those guards? Her entire plan was foolproof. It was impressive, no doubt but this is a tricky situation, one that none of us has ever had to deal with before."

"I know, I know." One let those four words out on a single huff of breath. Groaning he squeezed his eyes closed, "Why did I have to pick the one man on this earth who's desperately in love with a girl who so happened to be desperately in love with him and then they both went full Batman when they lost each other?"

"Because you see yourself in Four. That's why."

One's eyes slid over to Seven, "That doesn't leave this hallway."

Nodding once to show he understood, Seven pressed himself up. Twisting his body so he was facing One, his posture the only remnant to remind everyone he was once the perfect soldier, "But seriously One, what now. What can I do?"

Pressing his hands against the wall, One heaved himself up with a grunt, "Solve this for me?" The single eyebrow raise was the only answer he got, "Alright, alright. Come on. We need to go back and debrief everyone on this crazy shit. Don't know how I'm going to use small enough words to explain this to Three."

"You're on your own for that one dude." Seven laughed as they ambled down the hall, laughter dying on his lips his face fell into a serious mask, "How do you think Four's going to handle it?"

"If I knew I wouldn't be having this charming heart-to-heart with you."

"Seriously man, you're not even a little bit worried?"

"I'm freaking out dude!" Seven was brought up short as One rounded on him, gesticulating wildly, "This is no man's land! Even more so than this original idea! Four's so deep in his feelings with this girl and she's clearly heartbroken about him being gone and is on a one-woman train toward self-destruction that she's determined to meet him in death and” One’s eyes widened comically, “Ooooh my god I've Romeo and Juliet-ed them. Holy shit, I'm the Nurse. I'm too beautiful to be The Nurse!"

Gently prying One's hands from his collar, Seven looked him dead in the eye, "You have got to get a grip. You're spiraling and it's making your eyes go in two different directions."

Crushing his eyes closed, One took a deep breath in, "You're right. You're right. I need to get it together. We can handle this." Stepping back One hopped up and down on the balls of his feet, punching the air, "I need you to slap me."

The crack of Seven's palm making contact with his cheek sent One staggering back several steps.

"OW! What the fuck? No hesitation? No asking if I was sure?"

"I've been wanting to do that since the day you broke into my apartment." Seven shrugged as One glared at him, cupping his pink cheek.

"Fine, but it did help clear my head. So. Thanks. I guess."

Seven smirked.

"Alright, the plan. Let's talk to Four first. He needs to understand that for this to work, he needs to talk to her one on one. And it has to be her call. We can't influence her. If she wants in, fine but they need to work through their shit. And if she says no? Then we let her walk back to her life. And Four needs to respect that. He has to let her go."

"Easier said than done. I've seen his face when he looks at pictures of her on his phone."

"Yeah well, bet you didn't know he's also been following her? Keeping watch over her via surveillance tapes? And tracking her home?”

That brought Seven up short, "No? What the fuck?"

"I know. If it was anybody else's story I would have called the cops ages ago. As it is, it’s kind of romantic"

~A Week Later~

"We're all ghosts down here. Except, we don't float. One because gravity's intact and two because I'm not a cannibalistic clown."

"Could've fooled me."

"Didn't know I recruited fucking Tina Fey over here. Anyway, here's headquarters. Or home sweet home." One said in that same drole way he had of phrasing everything.

Walking through the punishing desert to get to the graveyard of felled planes had caused a shiver to pass through her. She did her best to suppress it but it was difficult. Passing through the giant hulking masses of steel caused her to feel like she was encroaching on the territory of ancient deities. The area felt loaded with their silence, the carnage keeping a silent watch as their footfalls disrupted the grains of sand that were being buffeted by the wind that swirled through the gaping openings in the bellies of the planes.

It had been a week since she’d been discharged from the hospital, well, not hospital, but the private sanctuary One had kept her at while she healed.

He had come into her room the day after he had left his card, shock on his face at seeing her sitting up, arms crossed.

"What the hell do you do and how do I fit into it?"

The single eyebrow she raised at One prompted him to explain, in detail, everything they did and what it would entail.

She’d been silent, eyes focused on his face, not making any sounds or moving until he finished his spiel. Then nodding, she asked one question,

"When do I start?"

He explained that her death would be easy to fake since she had technically almost died anyway. What he he hadn't told her was he hadn’t made it public just yet, he didn't want to make her brother and friend worry too much. Or give them a false alarm only for her to waltz back from the dead if she couldn’t handle being with Four.

So, here she was, following One up the stairs of the largest plane carcass. Pushing aside the plastic curtains that did their best to keep sunlight, sand and bugs out, he extended an arm in an exaggerated bow.

"I do hope it's to your liking Princess."

"Don't call me that you prick." She murmured as she breezed past him, pausing in the doorway to let her eyes adjust to the dim interior of the plane after being out in the searing sunlight.

The main room held more computer monitors than she had ever seen. She thought Mark's setup of four monitors had been impressive but the wall of screens staring back at her made her realize how rookie their operation had been.

A large silver table in the middle held a commanding presence and she knew, instinctively, that One felt most comfortable at the head of it, barking orders while still being able to hit the group in front of him with a sarcastic jab or two.

Taking a few hesitant steps forward she peered at the weapons lining the back wall. Snorting, she gestured to it lazily, turning her head to pierce One with a gaze, "You preparing for the apocalypse or do I require this much of a security detail?"

One's face broke into a fake smile as he leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees as he wheezed a few times, "Oh my god, sweetheart, oh god, please, stop, my stomach, it can't take the hilarity anymore, please, god." With that last word the smile dropped from his face and he stood up straight, crossing his arms over his chest,

"We're a group of vigilantes that have a specific subset of skills that makes us some of the most dangerous people on the planet. We go after the people that are even more dangerous than us. You think we just talk about our feelings and politely ask them to stop committing human rights atrocities?"

Brushing past her he shook his head, "Unbelievable." Muttering about new blood while he started down the hallway.

Eyes dancing over the various boards lighting up, she had the unmistakable sense that someone was watching her. One had told her there were five more that she would meet so she wondered if one of them was about to jump her as a weird sort of initiation.

But when she turned her head to the entrance, there was nothing.

Just the wind, blowing the plastic flaps back and forth. Scanning over the area she could have sworn the darkest corners contained something that was intrigued with her. Taking a hesitant step forward, One's voice jolted her out of her paranoia, "Hey, Amy Poehler, you coming to share more of your classic wit with the whole class or are you just going to dilly dick around all day? C'mon, I'm a busy man."

"Coming!" She yelled back, turning on her heel to jog down the hallway after him, turning her head one last time to make sure no ghosts were following.

Billy breathed a sigh of relief. He knew that today was the day he’d have to face her. He and One had discussed it extensively last night. One had been adamant, don't get attached to her being on the team before she explicitly says she wants to stick around, you know the rules, I know Seven changed things a little but this is getting into a whole new territory of softness and on and on while Billy had just sat there, taking it.

One finally ran out of steam (Billy wondered, not for the first time, if One had a coke addiction to get all the energy he needed) and Billy nodded his head, chewing over everything One had just said. He opened his mouth, preparing to show One how much he understood, how this was him only looking out for the team and adding a valuable asset. What came out of his mouth surprised him and One,

"I love her. I need her or else I won't make it through this life alive." He lifted his eyes to One and One took a sharp intake of breath. He had never seen Billy so open, so vulnerable. Even when he had been on the brink of dying, twice.

Searching his blue eyes, One sighed, dragging a hand over his face, squeezing his eyes shut as he scrubbed at his hair, groaning, "Fuck me, I must be getting soft in my old age. FINE. But remember. You have to talk to her. If you two can't work through your shit, she's gone. Poof. Vamoose. Got that? This is her choice. She gets to make the call if she stays, if she wants to work with you and if she leaves. Not you. Capisce?"

Billy nodded, trying his hardest to mask the eagerness he felt at the possibility of being with (Y/N) again. Being around her light, feeling that same pull into her warmth.

So, how could anyone blame him for wanting to see her as soon as she stepped foot into headquarters?

He had lurked in the shadows, pulling his hood over his hair, making sure his eyes were concealed. His eyes were her favorite part of him, she had told him during those amazing 24 hours they had shared together.

Billy couldn't believe it had been 365 days since they had seen each other. It felt like it had gone by so fast. But then again, he’d been all over the world, fighting bad guys and overthrowing dictators, (Y/N) had been living her life.

And started Sky Walker training which he was going to have to talk to her about that.

When she walked in, Billy had shrank even farther into the shadows, biting his tongue till he tasted blood, so he wouldn’t scream out her name.

It was still the same (Y/N) he’d fallen in love with, longer hair, more muscles but what really threw him was her eyes. They were the same color but the warmth that he had come to love was extinguished. Replaced with a flinty resolve that if anyone talked or looked at her, they would get their ass kicked.

It was the first time that he started to wonder if maybe this was the best idea. And let himself ponder the idea that she could potentially say no. That she wouldn't want to see him. That she would never be able to forgive him.

But he needed to know. He needed to try, he needed to show up for himself and for her. To show her that he still loved her, that he had always loved her.

Stepping out of the shadows, he pulled his hood down, making his way to the meeting room where they’d be waiting for him.

It wasn't till he brought his hand down from his hood that he realized his hands were shaking.

"Hola, Papi. Who's this lovely lady sitting here? My birthday isn't until next week." Three smirked as he pulled a chair out for himself, aiming a lazy wink at (Y/N). Her months of seducing men just like him in bars kicked in and she winked back, letting a slow smile crawl across her face.

An intimidating blonde woman kicked his chair as she sank into her own, "I meet your mother and this is the thanks I get?"

"You know I didn't mean it mi amor. I've only got eyes for you."

"And apparently any other attractive woman in a six mile radius." She extended her hand to (Y/N), "I'm Two. Nice to meet you."

Grasping Two’s hand in her own, she shook it, impressed with the strength of the woman's grip.

"Well, since you and Two are so happy together, this is my time to shine. I'm Seven." Seven grabbed her hand, pulling it up to his lips and pressed a kiss to it, holding her prone in his stare. He pulled back, winking at her and she felt a blush climb into her cheeks, "(Y/N). You have a much better chance than Three does at getting into these Nike leggings."

Seven's jaw dropped as One made a retching noise and Five stepped forward, extending her hand "I don't want to get into your leggings but I’m glad there's someone else here who's trained to keep these idiots alive."

(Y/N) shook her hand, smiling back at her, "Surprised they've lasted this long with just one doctor."

"You and me both." Rolling her eyes she turned to One, "This the one we picked up from Casewell’s joint?”

“The very same” was One’s reply as he flicked through the folder in his hands.

Five’s eyebrows rose up as a low whistle escaped her lips, “Shit. Well, I’m definitely glad you came around then. I’m assuming you’re the one who brought the vile of polonium?”

(Y/N) nodded, very aware of every eye in the room assessing her, sizing her up. It was like being in a room with Cassandra but multiplied by five.

“We saw you in action. Very impressive.” Two chimed in, crossing her arms over her chest.

Everyone else nodded as she tried her best to tamp out the flush of appreciation building in her cheeks. Snorting, she deflected, “Thanks. I guess you guys couldn’t have stepped in earlier to help, huh?”

“Sweetheart that’s not really our style. And in case you missed the chopper outside the building, we’re very particular about our style.” Flinging the folder down on the table, One braced his hands on the back of a chair, “So, now you’ve met everyone. The whole Brady Bunch of chucklefucks before you.”

(Y/N) had been mentally going over everyone's names in her head, when she furrowed her brow, "Hold on, either I’m dumber than I thought or your numbers are all out of whack. Where are Six and Four?"

Seven flicked his eyes to Two. Five shifted in her seat, opening her mouth when One cut her off, "Six is no longer with us and Four will be in shortly. I wanted you to meet the whole team first, get a feel for us, then meet Four and make your decision if you'd want to stay with us."

Cocking her head she flicked her eyes to One, "Why? Is Four like a 4Chan meninist who hates women? Why would he be the catalyst for whether I stay or go?"

Since meeting him, this was the first time she had seen One at a loss for words. It made her pulse speed up, clenching her hands into fists she tried to ignore the moisture that had started to accumulate on her palms.

One opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, only to sigh and rub the bridge of his nose as he moved to the door of the meeting room they had been in, "It's probably easier if we just get this over with. Alright. Everyone out. C'mon hurry up." He waved his hands impatiently at the rest of the team standing around. Reluctantly they all started to move, Seven and Three grumbling about how they didn't want to miss any of the drama. Everyone stopped when her chair clattered to the floor, hands clenched at her sides as she took a step toward the door.

"What drama? One? What's going on?" She hated how shaky her voice came out but she couldn't help it. What did they mean? Was Four their muscle? Was it a weird hazing thing? Would she have to try to kill this person? Try to make it out of this room alive?

One was standing half in and half out of the doorway, hand closed over the door knob. Turning back, he locked eyes with her (Y/E/C) ones.

Her blood ran cold. He looked, sorry. Almost like he pitied her. She was pretty sure One didn't have feelings so to see this much emotion directed at her?

She was terrified.

"It'll all make sense. Just...do what you think is right. Okay? You seem like a smart kid. Trust your gut."

And with those cryptic words he left, shutting the door. Sealing her in to wait for this new threat to emerge.

One walked out of the conference room and ran right into Billy.

"Jesus, kid. Any closer to me and you'd need to buy me dinner and drinks before that shit."

Billy's eyes looked right through One, "Is she in there? What did you tell her? What's she like? What did she say?"

One held up his hands to cut off the avalanche of questions, "Yes. The bare minimum by introducing her to everyone. She's like how she was a few minutes ago when you were spying on her, don't think I didn't see you, and she hasn't said anything that I would write home to my own mother about. Oh, except she did tell Seven he could get into her Nike leggings."

Billy's eye widened and he twisted his body to where the sounds of the team were filtering back to the two of them, "I'll kill him myself if he even laid a fucking hand on her, I swear to god."

"Woah, hey kid. Easy. It was just some harmless flirting and besides, (Y/N)'s a grown ass woman who can make her own decisions. You don't get to dictate who she does and doesn't sleep with."

Billy's eyes were unfocused as he clenched and unclenched his hands. One took stock of the bundle of nerves before him and felt his shoulders droop a little.

It was times like this that really drove home young Four was. He was the most vulnerable (in terms of emotions and in how little protection he had during missions) and after hearing how he really felt about (Y/N), well, it caused One's own shriveled heart to grow two sizes too big after hearing it.

Even though sometimes when he heard her name, he could still feel Billy’s hand clamping down around his windpipe.

He didn't fault Four for it. Seeing how she reacted at the sight of Four's grave almost made him cave and push Four forward, yelling at her to stop crying.

It ripped his heart apart, especially because it made him think about the family he still had out there.

Sighing, he placed his hands on Billy's tense shoulders, feeling the muscles and sinews so tight he was surprised they didn't snap, "Hey. Hey. Look at me." Billy dragged his eyes away from the door and to One's face, "Don't go in there all freaked out. I think I already stressed her out a little bit so...be cool, okay? And remember, respect her decision. I'll give you all the space you need if she leaves but...respect her choice. That's top priority. Got it?" One gave Four's shoulders a gentle shake so he knew that Four had heard what he’d said.

Feeling Four's joints loosen as he took stock of his words, One slapped him on the back as he walked back down the hallway, "Also, just a heads up, we will be watching this whole interaction over the feeds so just keep that in mind if you two decide to start fucking."

(Y/N) had been pacing the perimeter of the room, checking for cracks, a hidden door, something so she could get out of here alive. She didn't have any weapons on her. Well, except a Swiss Army knife but that barely counted.

Running her finger tips over the walls she felt her heart clench as she looked at her busted fingernails. They were cropped short and bare. She missed her pink sparkly nail polish. She carried it with her everywhere though. She always figured that when she started feeling better she'd paint her nails again. So far, it was still unopened.

Hearing the door knob turn she inhaled sharply, whipping around so her back was pressed into the farthest corner of the room. Her fists clenched and her thighs prepared to pounce or run, whichever came first. Hearing her heart pounding in her chest she took a deep steadying breath as the door opened wider, allowing light to come spilling in, illuminating a silhouette in the doorway.

She couldn't make out any features under the hood they were wearing. The light in the room was dim and compared to the fluorescent lighting in the hallway, she had to squint to try to make out any features this individual had. Her heart beat sped up the tiniest bit when she realized the figure was built like Billy.

Then the figure cleared their throat and closed the door behind them. Taking cautious steps into the light. She opened her mouth, "Are-are you Four?" The figure stopped abruptly and nodded in response to her question. She wondered briefly if they were a mute as she ran a hand through her hair.

Billy's heart almost fell out of his chest when he saw that her hand was shaking as she pushed her hair out of her face. He so badly wanted to be the one to do that he had to plant his feet more firmly on the floor so he wouldn’t race to her.

"They, uh, they haven't assigned me a number yet and I know you all don't do names here so, I guess we gotta wait for me to really introduce myself but I'm the new recruit. It's nice to meet you." She held out her hand, stepping forward.

After a tense moment, Billy extended his.

She cocked her head to the side when she noticed Four's hand was shaking. She looked up at him but she still couldn't make out his face with the lighting and his hood. She could just see his bottom lip and she was surprised when she felt her stomach clench at the sight of how full and pink it was.

Looking down, she clasped her hand in his and felt her blood run cold.

Running along Four's fingers were tattoos.

Tattoos that were identical to the kind that Billy had.

Lifting her head up seemed to take an eternity to Billy.

He held his breath as her other hand reached up, index finger extended, shaking like a leaf in a storm as she brought it within millimeters of making contact with the tattoos she had traced so lovingly during those 24 hours.

"You bastard."

~~~

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