#anyway lol last gif empty frame

[pedriscroquettes]

𝐁𝐘𝐀𝐊 ✮ FLORIAN WIRTZ

summary. it’s kind of pathetic the way the two of you always come crawling back to each other.

warnings. emotional warfare. florian is down bad. light smut but heavy feelings. florian is lowkey pathetic in this. 18+

gabri speaks! unfortunately i am a florian girlie. anyways i’m back! heavily inspired by byak by alvaro diaz ft. rauw alejandro.

THE CROWD GROANS as florian hits the crossbar for the second time that night. the camera man makes sure to zoom in on him as his hands go up in frustration. florian stares at the goalkeeper in disbelief as he runs back into his position. another missed chance, another bad rating, another night of him stressing himself out. if there was one person in all of germany that night happy about his performance it was you.

your relationship with the player was controversial, what was once a promising relationship had turned sour, and quickly. the two of you had mutually decided that a committed relationship wasn’t in the cards for either of you. it had grown toxic to the point where you’d flirt with his teammates on purpose to provoke him which worked because you’d always end up in his bed and never in a foreign room. in fact you couldn’t quite remember when was the last time you had hooked up with anyone else.

meanwhile the brunette found himself staring at his phone on the ride home. chatter and music filled the team bus yet only one thing clouded his mind, did you watch the match? he was hoping a teasing message of yours would already be in his notifications, and when he saw there’s wasn’t one he sighed. as his teammates argued over their errors and mistakes he couldn’t help opening the messages between the two of you. the countless deleted messages and hidden pictures as well as the timed ones made him remember the many nights the two of you would spend on the phone.

the sound of your voice filled his head and when he saw you were online he immediately turned off his phone. was it possible you had finally gotten tired of your messed up relationship?

“bro, are you okay?” kai asked seeing the state his teammate was in. florian’s leg was bouncing and his demeanor had changed dramatically.

“i’m fine, thanks.” he offered him a curt smile before staring out the window again.

he wasn’t fine, he was far from fine, in fact he felt worse than he did after missing the goal. he’s not sure why but as soon as the team arrives back to the hotel he’s on his way to your flat. he makes a quick stop at the chinese place the two of you like beforehand making sure he doesn’t show up empty handed. it was already pathetic enough that he was showing up past midnight he could at least make up an excuse with the food.

he hopes the black hoodie he wore is enough to hide his identity from bystanders. although with all the pacing he does outside your hallway he hopes no one thinks he’s a robber. as he adjusts his hoodie he can’t help but think, why am i so nervous? after all it’s not the first time he knocks on your door at these hours.

“do you hate me?” is the first thing you hear as you open the door.

you study his frame and notice his disheveled hair and the training kit from the national team. you’ve never seen him so disorganized and upset — if that was the right word to use — you were amused. as his face grows concerned with your lack of answer you notice the takeout he has in his hands. the poor guy was either desperate or he had lost his mind. both of which could be true.

“what the fuck florian?” you look at him weird as you question him.

“you didn’t text me today.” he says as if that simple sentence answered your question.

“so what? i don’t text you every other week and you never show up at my apartment with food. what’s going on?” you’re even more confused than before.

“you always text me after a game.” he tries to explain like it’s the most logical thing ever.

you can’t help the half scoff and half laugh you let out. he couldn’t be serious right now. was he seriously at your apartment past midnight because he was freaking out over a message?

“okay seriously you need to get a girlfriend you’re starting to creep me out.” you joke.

“you say that while you’re wearing my jersey.” he l doesn’t even need you to turn around to know that you were wearing the leverkusen jersey he had gifted you months ago.

there’s a moment of silence between the two of you it’s entrancing. you stare at him and realize he’d made his way over to you immediately after the game. all because he was waiting for your message. meanwhile there’s something about you wearing his jersey for casually that makes you all more enchanting to him. there’s a mutual look between the two of you and in the blink of an eye his hands are on your waist, yours on his jaw, and his lips are on yours.

it’s poetic really the way he closes your door as he pushes you into your apartment and drops the takeout on your coffee table in the process. your hands already digging into his hair and his hold you tight as he carried you into your room. it’s all muscle memory. the darkness of your bedroom adds to the feeling of having him so close to you again.

“i think i-” he pauses not wanting to be so vulnerable in this predicament but you know what he wants to say. you freeze.

“florian you know i can’t. it didn’t work out the first time. i can’t do it again.” you grab his jaw making sure the two of you are making eye contact. his brown eyes captivate yours.

“i can’t either but i can’t live without you.” he whispers the end. “it will always be you.”

you drag his hand towards the waistband of your shorts. it would always be him too. the only person that consumed your every thoughts and the only person you were worried about getting hurt was him. always. you look into his eyes as he drags his fingers to your core and sigh as he begins to tease you. he’s also the only man you fantasize about.

“promise?” you ask him.

the moonlight barely allows you to see him fully but you catch the smirk on his face. the same one that had captivated you years ago at the bar. his fingers are so close to your needy hole. you can’t help but audibly gasp as he inserts them inside you causing an illicit groan from him. your nails dig into his shoulders as he starts fucking you with his digits. meanwhile he kisses you from your collarbone to your neck.

“i promise.” he whispers against your ear.

he pumps his fingers in and out of you slowly helping you reach your high. it was only fair you were treated right. it was small details like this that had you wondering why the two of you couldn’t just commit to each other. you’re distracted as he leaves marks on your neck and his fingers curve inside you. you can’t help the loud moans that leave your mouth as you reach your high. your hands dig into the sheets as you come around his fingers.

he continues kissing you as he begins to take his hoodie off. you’re quick to stop him before he begins undressing himself.

“do i need to remind you that you didn’t score today? you’re not getting any tonight.” you adjust your shorts.

“so you did watch the game then.” he wraps his arms around you pulling you closer to him.

“i always do.” you whisper as you cuddle into him.

that’s how you spend the rest of the night, snuggled into his body as it rains outside. it’s quite an intimate moment shared between the two of you. you’re not quite sure if you should be worried or content with the turn your relationship with florian took. you decide it’s rather late and with the way he holds you you don’t think much more. after all he promised and while you knew florian was many things he was not an oath breaker.

[ladyxnocturnal]

His Birthday Surprise

Leon Kennedy X Fem Reader

Summary: It is Leon Kennedy’s Birthday and decided to set him a little small birthday party with Chris and the rest of the crew. But little did he knew, you had a little birthday gift for him.. Congratulations Dad!!

{A/N: I decided to write little something that’s wholesome for a little change! This idea came across my head so fast it’s so cute! Enjoy! 🥹💞 also I’m sorry if my writing isn’t good today I’m very tired LOL and it might be short I’m sorry :((}

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You did it all. You made sure every plan was set just perfectly for your husband’s special day. Every year you went all out with yourself to set the perfect party for your husband. Leon would always tell you that you didn’t have to do such a thing but you insisted in every way. Leon was special to you, you wanted him to feel special in every moment or way or to even show him how he really means to you. You loved seeing him happy and loved.

The plan was set out very perfectly, like usual every year. Never forgetting to invite Chris and Claire. You didn’t want to mess things up for your husband’s special day. You even had a surprise in the waiting you were dying to already spill out but you just couldn’t yet. When it gets to gifts, you knew you had to save your last. You didn’t even tell Chris and Claire this big surprise you had for Leon. You knew Leon wanted this and you even wanted this to happen in the future. You both tried for months but it was hard to go through. But you made sure that you were positive with the doctors if you’re pregnant. Becoming a parent is going to big responsibility but you were so excited to carry your lovers child to raise, to care, and love. You could already imagine Leon’s reaction, replaying it in your mind was making a smile plaster onto your face.

Leon was wondering around the kitchen to look at those cute decorations you hung around the place. So many balloons scattered over the floor, the banner reading ‘Happy Birthday Leon!’,, cussing him to chuckle for how adorable this was of you. He noticed you standing with a smile on your face, in your little own world which made him confused for a moment, heading over to you to wrap his strong arms around your waist to pull you in to him for a sweet embrace.

“You okay there sweetheart? What’s on your mind?” His voice was smooth like butter from how deep it was. You hummed sweetly as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Oh- Yes! I’m okay, I’m just- making sure everything is just set and perfect that’s all.” You quickly thought of an excuse to hide your excitement for your surprise later on. Leon chuckled, pressing his lips against yours lovingly, looking deep into your eyes.

“Everything is all perfect like always. You really out did yourself again this year, you really didn’t have to do this you know?” When he said that you poured like some child, shaking your head. “Lee, I don’t wanna hear it! I love doing this, I love you and it’s your special day! You can’t stop me.” You huffed, your eyes lighting up from that pout you put on which made your husband smile from adorable you really are.

God he loved you so much, he was so happy that he made the best decision in his life to spend of the rest of his life with you. You were just perfection in his eyes, how did he get so lucky with you? “Alright Alright, if you really say so sweetheart.”

Just in time, you heard a knock on the door which made you perk up with joy, rushing to the door to see Chris and Claire outside the door frame. You smiled as you allowed them to come in, Claire walking in first empty handed but poor Chris, Carrying gifts that reached to the height of his head.

“You can just set the gifts over there Chris, did Claire make you carry things again?” You laughed a bit, helping him out to the table to place the gifts down. “You bet. But it’s okay really, I’m used to all of this shit anyways” he chuckled, helping you out with the gifts but turned his head to face Leon. “Happy Birthday Leon, how’s the old age?” He teased causing Leon to chuckle and play along “I’m not THAT old Chris, you’re getting old too you know but thanks.”

You went over to the counter to pick up a party hat to place over Leon’s Head, smiling with delight. “There we go, Party hat for the birthday boy!” You chimed from satisfaction.

Leon looked down at you, grinning. “Is this really necessary?”

“Of course it is! It’s important.” You clapped your hands with that sweetness tone in your voice.

Claire laughed as she let a pat on Leon’s back. “Wow, that party hat doesn’t suit you at all Leon but it is your birthday anyways.” She smiled, turning to you. “Shall we get to the cake so the birthday boy can blow out the candles?”

You couldn’t even agree more, nodding as you took Claire with you to get the candles to place on top of the cake. “Say chris, you have a lighter don’t you?” Chris immediately tossed you his lighter which you thankfully caught just in time, lighting up the candles on the cake.

“There we go! Time to sing happy birthday!”

All of you surrounded the cake, starting off to sing Happy Birthday, Leon blowing out the candles.

“What did you wish for Leon?” Chris asked as he patted onto Leon’s shoulder. “A car.” He joked which caused Chris to laugh. “You don’t need one for how bad to reckless drive.”

Claire rolled her eyes with a laugh. “I agree, you don’t need a car Leon. But let’s have cake now! I can’t wait any longer.”

With that being said, the all of you enjoyed slice of cake. Talking about the slightest little things. All of you even played some bits of party games to bring more of the enjoyment to Leon’s birthday party. Seeing Leon having fun and happy was the most you all wanted and spending time with Chris and Claire. Now, it was time to open gifts and you couldn’t wait till the big surprise you had for your husband.

“Open my first.” Christ suggested, having that confidence strike into his tone.

Leon reached over to the box to tear through the wrapping paper to open up the folds of the cardboard box. “Oh fuck yes. Just what I need.” He pulled up a new leather jacket to show off which made you smile and Claire folding her arms.

“I knew you’d like it, you’re all about the leather shit.” Chris teased with a chuckle, looking over at Claire. “You’re next.”

“I’d say you’ll like my gift even better Leon.” Claire smiled, watching Leon as he picked up Claire’s gift that seemed to be in a very fragile box which made him even more curious. “Interesting..” he spoke to himself as he made sure to open the box carefully to see it was a new handgun which made him gasp like a little kid. “I figured you’d enjoy a new gun.” Claire quickly added, feeling that confidence boost her up.

“It’s actually really nice, thanks claire, I’ll need to use this more often.” Leon placed the hun back into the box to sit to the side carefully. Your excitement now showed out more when it was your turn to give your lovers surprise gift. But you also felt nervous for his reaction, you knew it wouldn’t be bad at all. You both wanted this for a long time now and now it’s the perfect time. “Now it’s my turn.” You giggled as you never took your eyes off of Leon.

Leon smiled, taking your gift in his hands to unwrap. He felt puzzled when he pulled out a baby’s onesie, holding it up with a grin. “I don’t think this will fit me..-“ he joked but noticed something else in the box which made his eyes widen from shock. “No fucking way-“ Your smile grew bigger but Chris and Claire was confused. Leon held up your pregnancy test which even made Chris and Claire in shock, looking at you. “You’re? Pregnant?!”

Little beads of tears started to form in your eyes from happiness, nodding in response. Leon jumped out of his seat to pick you up to hold you in a big hug, swaying you around like a rag doll. “I’m going to be a dad! We are going to be parents!” His reaction was just the sweetest thing to ever happen. You giggled, holding onto him tight. “I wanted to tell you sooner but I had to surprise you today.”

Leon pressed his lips against yours over and over, smothering you with his kisses, holding you close to him from how excited he is. “This is the best gift that ever happened to me, I can’t wait to raise a family with you. I love you so much.” Chris chuckled at this sweet moment. “Wow Leon, didn’t know you had it in you. I better be the uncle here.”

Claire shook her head with a laugh, nudging Chris from his jokes. “Let them have this moment, then maybe you’ll be uncle Chris.”

End

[neevblanc]

„curious” ♡

a/n —hey all! hope ur doin' well, drink water if you haven't! have this as a treat. it's 2k and some more but i cant be bothered to check for specifics. (p.s sorry if the tarot aspects of this are wonky! i did my best to research and i pulled reference from my sister's experience with tarot cards/reading.)

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

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Dazai Osamu x GN!reader

Tags— 22/ada dazai, flirting?, pre-slash, don't question why reader's given a key, reader works under ango but he's also they're dad figure, it's a whole thing, mentions of sskk though not explicitly platonic or romantic, take that as you wish, dazai's infuriating habit of burying feelings and then one day he'll die

CW/TW— dazai. (/j, none i can think of.)

note — reader's ability in this is based on one that my friend chose for our self-ship au. "Teacher of Truth by Saneatsu Mushanokoji: The user can employ tarot cards to gain insight into the past, current, and possible future situations. The user needs to know what each of the cards mean in order to properly interpret what they say." it's from a post on tumblr, but I couldn't find it for the life of me! i'll credit if i can. anyway, it's been tweaked a little so i'm here to explain. in this, reader can choose to use their ability during a reading or not, but the tarot cards are always personal to them. people they know will sometimes show in the cards if they're important to them.

The next time Dazai sees you, it’s well before the ADA opens for the day. He’d admittedly had a rough night—sleep evaded him like always, and he hadn’t had dinner because of his own laziness. His futon was impossibly comfy. How was he meant to part with its loving warmth?

The Door to the agency creaks open, the sound not unlike the groan of the cafe floorboards only steps away. One of Dazai’s favorite activities was purposely seeking out the creaky floorboards and dancing on them so loud Kunikida would have to berate him, of course. He was intimately familiar with the annoying sounds this old building could make.

The office is darker than during working hours, but he notices the meager amount of lights still switched on. Distantly, he knows Kunikida would’ve blown a gasket about the electric bill if he had found them still on. He takes a step into the room-

Something rustles. Downstairs, an old radio plays a song he does not recognize. Pigeons flutter and coo from outside the window.

Somebody was in the agency, and had it been any of his fellow detectives, he’d have known.

“Hmmm, what’s this,” he mutters absently, volume low enough to alert whoever it was had decided to trespass.

”Dazai-san?” a soft voice calls, and Dazai pauses for a moment. A short, hollow sound follows—cards shuffling. He bites the inside of his cheek. How curious.

”Last I checked, you don’t clock in with the rest of us measly agents. Surely Ango’s fuming by now?” He hums, stepping into view of you. you’re sat at Atsushi’s desk, bag perched on top of Atsushi’s empty report trays. Dazai almost smirks at the sight— silly Atsushi, always rushing to complete everything in a timely manner. One day, he’d get him to turn them in later, hopefully months later- like he did.

”Hm, no. I clocked in earlier, but Ango wanted me over here early. Something about a mission I have to hand over to Fukuzawa-dono. I got a key from him last time, so I just let myself in.” you explained. Dazai pulled his own chair out and collapsed into it, peering down at what your hands were busying themselves with.

He realizes they’re tarot cards. Thick and sturdy under your fingers, you set them up neatly in front of yourself. The backs are a matte purple, decorated with silver details that glint as the sunrise light hits them for just a fraction of a second. The illustrations seem to flicker with movement, almost like snapshots of time shifting through an old camera, frame after frame.

”What’s got you so busy?” he asks, exaggeratingly leaning over to look at the cards. You laugh and smile, expression wobbly. He notes the change. You briefly shake out the bracelet laying on your wrist, almost nervously. You lay the last card on the desk’s surface. Atsushi’s cute cat clock ticks from where it’s placed near his report trays.

“I do readings for the day early in the morning, just in case. Sometimes, I don’t even use my ability.” You explain, keeping your voice low so as not to break the morning peace. Dazai glances at the cat clock. Soon, the secretaries and Kunikida will clock in and begin their work day. He focuses back on you and grins, intrigued.

“Anxious, then? I guess the ability to see the future will do that to ‘ya.” Dazai sighed, crossing his legs and resting his chin on his hand. He was content to watch you finish setting the cards down in a formation he admittedly did not understand.

” What does that one mean?” he says, pointing to one of the cards. Its flickering surface shows a woman with mint-colored hair pulled up into a bun. Behind her, there’s a black mass, and she seems to be standing in a graveyard. There are two Xs at the top of the card. You redirect your attention to the card he’s hovering his finger over and smile.

”That’s Judgment—renewal, reflection, awakening, or reckoning. For a personal reading, it would mean going through a period of self-evaluation or maybe even trying to understand the people around you and your situation more.” You explain, seemingly done with the spread and setting down the other cards nearby. Dazai purses his lips.

”Sounds gloomy. Lame!” He huffs, upset by his choice. you gasp and narrow your eyes.

”Don’t call them lame! You’ll piss them off, Dazai.” You hiss, smacking him on the arm. Dazai grins and leans closer, smile growing coy.

”Really now? And how exactly does one do that?” Dazai prods. You stick your tongue out and cross your arms.

“Not telling. Now shut up and let me do my reading.” You grumble, eyes flicking over the cards. Dazai whines and throws himself forward, almost shoving you off of Atsushi’s chair.

”Dude!” You yelp, hands scrambling to grasp his coat as he rights himself. Dazai grabs you by the shoulders and shakes, intent on being the biggest possible nuisance.

”That’s boring! Do your reading laterrrr; it won’t matter, right? Ne- do a reading for me! I wanna know my future,” He begs, grinning. You blink and scowl, pushing him away.

”First off, it would matter. Doing a reading later would be a completely different outcome. Just wait. All I have to do is interpret these. I’ll do yours after.” You grumble, adjusting their sleeves and settling back into the chair. Dazai harrumphs but settles into his own chair to watch you silently read the cards.

You focus back on the cards, and Dazai settles himself by watching you idly. You’re dressed in what you always wear to work, but it’s casual enough to know doubt have been breaking the dress code had you not been working under Ango for so long.  There’s a small scrunch to your nose as you focus on your task, and Dazai can spot how you run your tongue over your teeth in thought. Dazai looks away pointedly. Taking a few breaths, he forcibly clears his mind. How odd.

”Okay, done.” You hum, straightening and starting to pick up the cards. He shifts so his whole body is faced toward you. You take gentle care of the cards, putting them back into the deck.

”Why do they flicker like that? You aren’t using your ability,” he asks, curious about the shifting images on the cards. You shrug.

”Don’t know. It happens no matter what deck I use, though I prefer using this one. The images just shift into the same ones most of the time, though some have changed over time.” You explain, shuffling the cards. Dazai reaches out and hovers over your hand before poking the back of it gently. You let him despite knowing the outcome.

The images on the cards still lying on the table flicker, completely uninterrupted, even as Dazai feels the shiver of his ability eating away at yours. He hums and pulls away. He hadn’t been paying attention when he jostled you earlier, but you were right- they were unaffected.

”Strange, but not unheard of. Some ability effects aren’t considered active enough for my ability to erase.” Dazai says, allowing you to continue. you finish and present him with the deck, pulling away when he goes to take them.

”Don’t be mean to them. They’ll be mean to you. You can’t even think anything negative; they’ll know. You’re gonna cut the deck in 3, okay? We’ll do a simple reading.” you explain, and only once Dazai agrees (crosses his heart and hopes to die!) is he gently handed the cards.

”What do you want to read? We can focus on love, or money, or your career, things like that.” You say. Dazai ponders for a moment before sniffing, mouth settled into a pompous pout.

”I want to know if someone will finally be interested in a double suicide with me.” He huffs. You scoff.

”You’re insane. Okay, so love. Think about that while you cut them.” You nod, giving him the go-ahead. He runs his fingers over the well-loved edges and slots his thumbs through the deck where it feels right, setting the individual cuts down on the desk before them. He tries to take it as seriously as possible, though thinking about love has always made him squirm and itch beneath his skin.

You reach over once he’s done and clear your throat, carefully picking the top cards on each deck and laying them out in front of him. On the left, the first card flipped is a wheel, seemingly in the sky and surrounded by clouds. The clouds float by calmly, though Dazai can’t find anything particularly personal to you the way some of the other cards would show.

It’s made a little more difficult considering the card’s orientation- upside down.

You hum at it before moving on. The card in the middle is revealed, and this one piques his interest. He grins a little at the image. Two figures hold goblets in their hands, strings of power rising from the cups and meeting above their heads to form a Yin and Yang sign. The figures are startingly familiar- one dark-haired, the other light-haired. Accents in their hair match each other, silver and black clashing and melding nicely. This one’s facing right-side up. The image flickers to show the energy that swirls around, occasionally circling their respective holders.

The last one flicks onto the wooden desk with a hollow sound. The image is soft, not unlike the first one with the blue sky. A sun takes up the upper half, rays pronounced against the sky. Ttheire’s a little kid in the illustration, their beaming face scrunched up in happiness. There’s a flag clutched in one hand, with the other gripping onto the mane of the white horse they’re perched upon. Sunflowers frame them, peaking over the illustrated garden wall behind them.

It’s an endlessly endearing picture, and from the smile, he has a feeling he knows who it is. Like the last one, it’s right-side up.

You settle your chin against your palm, leaning on the table with a hum.

”That’s….a really nice reading, actually.” You move to point at the cards. Dazai sits patiently with his hands on his lap. Nothing more fascinating than seeing someone in their element, he supposed.

”That first one is The Wheel of Fortune. Upside down, it’s a little darker. It represents your past,” you pause, looking at him for a moment. “I think for you, it’s focused on the feeling of helplessness—lack of power or control…like you had love but couldn’t control how and when you lost it,” you say, your voice soft. Dazai fights to ignore the discomfort building in his throat.

”Well, what can I say? My dark past haunts me,” he bemoans, and you huff a soft laugh. You move on to the next card- the cups. You look a little embarrassed by this one.

”This one is the present. Two cups represent…well, partnership. More specifically, the realization of a new partnership. This one can be pretty romantic. I guess you’ve got something to look forward to soon,” you say, pointedly ignoring the images of his two kohais. He grins, sparing you of the teasing. He didn’t know how well you even knew Akutagawa- but it was amusing to see everyone could see what those two denied vehemently.

”The last one is the future. You got The Sun, which is actually really sweet.” Through your embarrassment, Dazai watches a sweet smile grow on your face. He matches it easily.

“It means joy and success, for you in particular. It means…whatever or whoever your two cups is for, you’ll be very happy together.” You say, and Dazai sighs wistfully.

”Maybe someone will finally want to commit suicide with me! This news might keep me alive a day longer just yet,” Dazai coos. You groan and take a deep breath, seemingly ignoring him as you duck your head down and then start to put the cards back.

”You better hope you didn’t piss this deck off, Dazai.” you huff, glaring. Dazai pouts, cradling his face in his hands.

“What?! I followed all your rules; I would never,” he whines. You flip him off and busily tuck the cards into a soft leather pouch. He lets his hands drop and watches for a moment.

”Thanks for the reading,” Dazai says, his voice back to normal. You glance at him and smile.

”Yeah, no problem. It’s nice to read without my ability once in a while,” you admit, expression soft. He grins. Something stirs in his chest.

”You can read me whenever you want, lovely.” He purrs jokingly. You startle, flushing. You glare and kick him with your foot.

”Don’t say shit like that,” you mutter. Dazai whines out a laugh, having settled on teasing you until he could see the smoke coming out your ears.

Before he could continue, the door creaks open, and the overhead lights flick on. Multiple people come shuffling in, and Dazai can hear Kunikida conversing lowly with Fukuzawa. The secretaries also file in, chattering contently amongst themselves. Fukuzawa and Kunkida pause only to greet them both. you wave politely, and Dazai salutes them both.

you blink your eyes to adjust to the light now flooding the room. Dazai huffs and stands with a groan.

”Alright, I’ve got five minutes to get out of here. You’ll be going in to see Shachou, right?” He asks, stretching. you stand and nod, giving him a look.

”Where are you going?” you ask, picking up your bag. He groans at the way his back pops as he rights himself from his stretching.

”Home. I only came here 'cause I was bored. But in the long run, it’ll be a lot funnier if Kunikida’s mad all morning when I don’t show up~” He snickers. you shake your head, a smile pulling at your mouth.

“You’re so lame. See you, then.” You sighed, heading down the hall Kunikida and Fukuzawa had disappeared down.

”And yet you love me. ‘Till we meet again,” he calls, pointedly ignoring the yell you let out.

”Whatever!” you yelped, and Dazai let the agency door click closed behind him.

He grins. Curious indeed.

note — can you tell i love brothers! atsushi and dazai? also, the woman in Judgement is Mizuki Tsujimura, who I headcanon is pretty good friends with reader in this one. :) please let me know if there are any pronoun inconsistencies! this was originally written with she/her pronouns, and i did my best to fix it to match the gender neutral style i like to use for tumblr stuffs.

©neevblanc 2024 // do not plagiarize or repost

[vibrantbirdy]

hi! i was hoping i could request a poe dameron x reader where he has a huge crush on the reader who works a small part of the resistance but he keeps making a fool of himself in front of them but the reader finds him cute anyways. thank u!!

Yes anon, thank you! This is such a cute request. I hope I've done it justice.

Requests for Character x Reader fics are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first before requesting.

-Birdy

Title: Crush Fandom: Star Wars: Skywalker Saga Genres: Sci-Fi; Romance; Fluff Setting: Sometime later on in the Force Awakens Characters: Poe Dameron; Reader Pairings: Poe Dameron x Reader Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Warnings: None :) Perhaps extremely mild, fluffy, sexuality Word Count: 2805

Summary: You work for the Resistance at the Base on D'Qar. Wing Commander Poe Dameron has a crush on you and he's surprisingly awkward about it...

It's late, and you are walking the empty corridors of the Resistance Base on D'Qar. You like the base at this time of night. It's peaceful and your long trips between the various offices and briefing rooms and your own place of work, the records room, give you time to think.

You're making your final trip back to the records room for the night. In your hands is a box full of data sticks and holo chips. Every time there's a skirmish, a raid, or an offensive to plot against the First Order, Resistance Officers descend upon the archive, stripping it like locusts. They are looking for information, knowledge, maps, schematics anything that might help them understand the weaponry, tech, locations and terrain they might be up against.

You have tried to explain that if they really have to take records out of the records room, they really do need to bring them back. If this information gets lost, so too does the history of the Republic, the Resistance, the First Order and its Imperial predecessor, the Galactic Empire. No one listens. You don't mind that much. It is wartime after all.

So you spend your nights too-ing and fro-ing until you've gathered up all the records left abandoned in consoles and holo readers and on the tops of desks. You really have had to burn the candle at both ends recently and you think you know why. There are whispers spreading through the base that General Organa will soon need to launch an attack on the First Order's monstrous weapon on Starkiller base.

You take pride in what you do. It's not flying an X-Wing, but it's important.

Someone who does fly an X-Wing - and does it very well - is Wing Commander, Poe Dameron. But right now, he's scrabbling about on the floor with you, trying to salvage the precious hoard of information that went flying in a shower of little plastic bits when his droid barrelled into you from the opposite direction and sent the box flying from your hands.

"BB-8!" he exclaims, bending down to scoop up handfuls of data chips and throw them in the box he has righted for you, "C'mon buddy, how many times have I told you to watch where you're rolling!"

The little round ball of orange and white metal chitters indignantly. From your sitting position on the floor, you pause in your work to reach over and give BB-8 a reassuring pat on his semi-spherical head. The droid vibrates and makes a docile purring sound. You can't help the small laugh that escapes you. You've always thought he was the cutest little astromech around.

When you raise your eyes, Dameron is staring at you, slightly open mouthed. You're seen him around the base plenty of times, but this is the first time you've really looked at him up close. His handsome face is framed by a crop of brown curls and adorned with deep set eyes that are so dark they are almost black. Still, they sparkle like a night full of stars.

Wordlessly, Dameron reaches out a free hand to you and you take it as he pulls you back onto your feet. You pick up the box and he funnels the last of the data sticks balanced precariously in the crook of his elbow into the receptacle.

"So, how come I've not seen you around before?" He asks.

"Oh, I've been here," you laugh, "I think you've probably just been too busy to notice."

"Yeah, I'm busy, not blind..." he mutters, more to himself than to you, "Uh, I mean..."

He looks awkward and you cut him off to introduce yourself and save him from his unease. Still, you feel a pleasant blush creep into your cheeks at both his insinuation and the fact that appears to be slightly flustered in your presence.

"Poe," he responds, confidence returning with a dazzling smile that you are certain must get him into trouble.

"I know," you reply, allowing yourself to give him a cheeky smirk of your own.

"Do you always walk around the base this late at night?"

"Yes," you say simply, then, after a pause, you throw the question back at him, "Do you?"

"No," he chuckles wearily and rubs the back of his neck, "Couldn't sleep."

He does look tired. Upon closer inspection, there are dark circles under his eyes and a five o'clock shadow sits upon his well-defined jaw and creeps up towards his sharp cheekbones. There have been a lot of skirmishes with the First Order lately and a lot of good pilots have been lost, pilots under Dameron's command. You feel a flash of deep sympathy for him. You don't envy the responsibility he bears and it is clearly weighing heavy on him tonight.

"Well. Goodnight, Commander," you say after a lingering but not uncomfortable pause.

You hope he'll maybe get some rest tonight at least.

He nods at you and smiles softly.

"Goodnight."

BB-8 cheeps a farewell.

************************************************

In all the time you've been on D'Qar. You've never once seen Poe Dameron, ace pilot, in the records room. Yet here he is at your desk with BB-8 in tow.

"Hello Commander, what can I help you with today?"

"I..."

Poe draws the syllable out as he leans forward conspiratorially across the desk. He raps his knuckles on its cheap plast-cast surface. He's stalling for time. He's here to see you, you realise, and it sends a giddy little thrill through your body.

"...am here for some records," he finally says and you can tell he instantly regrets it.

He attempts to give you his trademark winning smile but it's really more of an embarrassed grimace. He looks away from you with a imperceptible shake of his head that sends a few of his rich, chocolate curls spilling across his forehead. He runs his hands through his hair, sweeping the dark tendrils back off his face.

You can see that he thinks he looks stupid. He's clearly not used to it, and you want to say something to make him feel better. You think it's sweet that he's come to see you.

Was he just passing, you wonder? Or did he plan it?

You never get the chance to ask. The sudden din of the pilot scramble alert swallows any potential words you might say whole. It is accompanied, as always, by the emergency lighting system which sets off flashing red pulses throughout the entire base.

Poe Dameron doesn't move. He's studying you intently with those endless eyes that are paradoxically both dark and luminescent.

"Uh. Commander?" You point upward to the nearest emergency light which is flashing just above your head.

Slowly, as if reluctant to tear himself away, his gaze leaves your face and follows your finger up to the ceiling.

"Right," he says, then starts and looks around wildly as if he is only just hearing the blaring alarm for the first time. "Right!"

He turns and sprints away from your desk at an alarming pace, BB-8 whizzing after him. He spins clumsily halfway down the room, momentum almost sending him barrelling into a row of desks where readers can, usually, study in relative peace and quiet. A haughty looking admin officer seated nearby rolls his eyes.

"I'll be back for those records!" Poe shouts back at you, as if it's the most important promise he's ever made.

It makes you laugh, and you hope to the Force he has the opportunity to do so as he and BB-8 disappear round the corner to prepare to take to the skies into some awful fray.

"Saved by the bell, huh?"

You jump, startled out of your reverie, and turn to see your colleague Marjane who has sidled up beside you. She's a gregarious, older lady with big heart and a preference for men half her age.

"That young man has never been awkward around a woman a day in his life," she says sagely, pointing to the spot where Poe had stood moments ago as if the outline of him were still tangible, "What spell did you use and can I have it?"

You grin and hold your hands up defensively.

"He's got a crush on you," she winks slyly and walks back to her desk.

**********************************************

The next time you see Poe Dameron it's milliseconds before he crashes into you at speed in the same corridor, on the same corner where BB-8 sent you sprawling only a few weeks earlier.

You've smacked your forehead right off his sharp, chiselled cheek bone and the two of you are are nursing your wounds either side of the corridor. You are resting your sore head against the nearest cool durasteel wall, and he is leaning his back against the opposite one, holding a palm to his face which is stricken with a comical expression of surprise.

BB-8, perhaps the most compassionate droid you've even known, rolls back and forth between you both, as if unsure of who needs the most of his sympathy.

When you finally feel like you can open your eyes again without seeing stars, you turn away from the wall and find that Poe has moved to stand directly in front of you. He's wearing a white tank top and lightweight cargo pants and he has clearly been running. His broad shoulders rise and fall from his interrupted physical exertion.

A lot of the pilots keep fit by jogging through the endless maze of corridors within the labyrinthine base during the heavy torrents of rain that occasionally lash the otherwise temperate D'Qar.

"Are you ok?" he asks, concerned, and he cups your face gently in his hands with exhilarating forwardness to examine the red mark that is blossoming on your forehead.

It's a surprisingly intimate gesture. You wonder if he can feel the heat growing in your cheeks, but his hands are already warm from exercise. You can feel the course pads of his finger tips exerting a reassuring pressure against your skin.

"Force, what a shiner, I didn't know my head was that hard!"

"You've got a good one coming in too," you say, snaking your hand up between the two of you to carefully press a finger against the clear point of impact on his cheek.

"Ow!" he breaks away dramatically and you both laugh. "I'm not sure we can blame the droid this time," you say.

BB-8 chirps and wobbles cheerfully on the floor.

"No, this one's on me. I mean you too, I guess. It takes two to uh...you know..."

"Collide in a corridor?"

"Yeah, that."

There's a stilted silence and you hope he might say something more, like, wanna hang out sometime? or I know this great place to watch the stars or let's go for a joyride in my X-Wing... but he doesn't.

"Well, I better ..." he makes a little jogging motion with his arms, "Sorry about the whole running and the crashing and the headache thing."

You smile, and try to hide the little twang of disappointment you feel.

"Of course," you say, "Good evening, Commander."

He taps two fingers off his forehead in a mock salute before jogging past you in the opposite direction from your way of travel.

BB-8 doesn't follow immediately, sitting at your feet for moment longer. You look down to see his dark, glassy photoreceptor fixed on you. You shrug at him and he gives you a consolatory whirring sound before rolling off to catch up with his master.

*************************************************

It's Poe's birthday and General Organa has given everyone strict orders to have a good time. The Resistance leadership are having to launch so many sorties against the First Order lately that she's had to place a complete ban on alcohol consumption lest the pilots have to enact an emergency scramble. This doesn't appear to have dampened the mood one iota and as you enter the hanger, the party is in full swing.

The whole base has turned out, as you'd expected. The hanger is packed with people chatting and dancing. Some of the engineers have obviously been hard at work wiring up whatever miscellaneous light sources they could find to hang rustic makeshift fairy lights from the durasteel beams and support columns. The upbeat music pulses through ancient, crackling speakers and is joined melodiously with people singing and raucous bursts of laughter.

It's a glorious feeling. Wartime hasn't been easy. You all need this.

Before you can even get yourself a drink or find your friends, someone takes your hand and leads you into the crowd of dancers. Your heart skips a beat as you realise it's Poe. He's a good dancer in that way some men are - all bent knees and elbows, but somehow able to make it rhythmical. You are grinning at each other like idiots, mirroring your energies, lost in the music.

Finally, you think.

Then, without warning, somebody jostles past you and grabs Poe around the waist. Then someone else comes. And another. And another. You soon realise it's members of his fighter squadron as they cart him away from you through the hangar and outside onto the landing grounds.

You laugh as you are swept along in the stampede of excitement that follows. Of course, you remember. It's tradition amongst the flyers to soak the birthday boy or girl with the emergency fire hoses.

Finn, the ex-Stormtrooper who has recently joined the Resistance, has the courtesy to give you an apologetic smile as he races past you to join in on the action. As a close friend of Poe, you have a suspicion that he is probably more aware than the others of the moment they have just interrupted. You don't mind. Not really.

Once outside underneath D'Qar's clear night's sky, Poe barely has the chance to ready himself when four powerful jets of water are turned on him. He jumps this way and that in a futile attempt to avoid the deluge. Any time it looks like he might escape, someone grabs him and spins him around so that he redirected back to his watery fate. He is wet through in seconds.

The gigantic, gruff but beloved Second Engineer, Toko, notices BB-8 by his feet and he picks up the little droid who screeches in alarm. Poe shouts over the noise, pointing at the big man with one hand as he skips around, trying to deflect a myriad of water blasts to his face and body.

"Not my droid! NOT MY DROID!"

Everyone laughs. The Engineer, only teasing, sets the wriggling mechanical ball down gently and gives him a pat on the head.

Finally, the hoses are turned off and Poe's squad rush towards him cheering and shouting. He shakes himself violently and flicks his dripping hands over his nearest assailants. His flyers drag him to the ground and they all collapse on top of him in a soggy, giddy heap.

*************************************************

There has been a skirmish with the First Order and the atmosphere on the base has been tense all day. The sun is setting on D'Qar and finally, finally, the fighter squadrons are retuning.

You count the X-Wings as they land, your heart racing. They're all here, you realise. Every single one of them has come back. It's so rare these days.

Your friend, Maya, claps you on the shoulder as she speeds past to greet her twin sister, Selina, the two young women colliding into a rough embrace as the latter leaps out of her X-Wing.

You are overcome with emotion and you clasp your hands over your mouth and fold in the middle. With a disbelieving laugh you put your hands on your knees and push yourself upright slowly.

Then, you are looking for him. For Poe. Your eyes scan the hanger and the landing pads beyond, a sea of orange flight suits. There. In the midst of the joyous commotion, there he is. He's checking on his flyers, slapping them on their backs, giving and receiving hugs, grasping arms tightly with comrades in relief and celebration.

As if he senses that you are looking for him, he locks eyes with you across the hanger. With a purposeful gait, he strides over until he's so close you can feel the victorious energy vibrating off his body.

He surveys your face intently with those deep pools of midnight, flicking his gaze between your lips and your eyes. He's trying to suppress a smirk, a muscle working in his cheek.

"I think I'd like to see you more often," he finally says.

It comes out funny, almost like an order, but it's the most direct he's ever been. Without hesitation, you grab him by the lapels of his orange flight suit and pull him into a deep kiss.

Fuelled by adrenaline and the heady jubilation of the moment, Poe drops his helmet, and without breaking your embrace, he circles one hand around your waist, and uses the other to support the nape of your neck. Then, he dips you almost parallel to the ground as you kiss like a scene from a romance holo.

A ripple of cheers and good natured laughter passes around the hanger as Poe sets you, breathless, back on your feet.

A dashing grin spreads wide across his handsome face.

"I'd like that too," you say as you lean in for another long awaited kiss.

[nanaooyoo]

txt yeonjun oneshot

Yeonjun misses you while out at the bar with his friends but can’t quite get himself to buck up and apologize. Just a short blurb that feels like being dropped into the middle of a story. Lmk what you think (good or bad haha). Anyways enjoy ✨

warnings/headsup: vague description of oral sex • mild suggestive material • alcohol • swearing • unspecified verbal altercation • maybe what yeonjun did was bad maybe it wasn’t idk • light proofread • fem leaning but gender neutral reader • sprinkle of angst • sort of reformed fboy!yeonjun • 1.8k words

Untitled: Yeonjun x Reader pt. I/I

“I should call them.” Yeonjun says, puffing out his cheeks as yet another pint of beer is placed on the table before him.

The white frothy foam bubbles over, making a small mess on the table. Almost gummy rings of semi evaporated alcohol adorn the dark wood of the table, along with many a discarded pistachio shell and what he thinks are the papery remains of some peanuts. He can’t really remember. His vision isn’t perfect but he can see semi clearly. It’s his mind that’s clouded the most at this point in the night.

Yeonjun sits slumped in the corner of the local dive bar in the seat of a squeaky red leather booth, stuck between two of his other tipsy friends. The faded material of the seats has been receding from its frame for many years and now the young man can’t help but think of that one ruby colored mini skirt you no longer wear because it “rides up to much”. Just as this place refuses to get rid of these squeaky old booths, you won’t get rid of that skirt for some reason. You’re always so stubborn, so sentimental… somehow, and always at the exact same time. He hates that about you… he hates it sometimes. Yeonjun toys with the wrinkling upholstery of the booth, poking and prodding at it absentmindedly with his index finger much like he used to poke and prod at the hem of that stupid red skirt you won’t just give away.

“Call who?” Hueningkai asks pulling Yeonjun out of his spiral for a minute.

Yeonjun huffs, a tuft of his messy black hair flying up and subsequently landing right back into his face. He pouts a little, ignoring the question.

Without missing a beat Taehyun replies for him as he slides into the empty spot on his sullen friend’s right side. He turns his body away from the small group as he watches Soobin and Beomgyu chat up some sorority girls by the jukebox. “That one kid he’s been talking to. The one he’s been hooking up with for a while now... I forget their name”.

“That really narrows it down…” Hueningkai jokes adjusting his posture to the other side of Yeonjun.

“For your information!” Yeonjun says sitting up a bit straighter and then immediately slumping back down “not that it matters to you two idiots, but I’ve only been talking to one person this past month. They’re… cool or whatever”.

“Just one?” Kai laughs “are you sure you aren’t just telling them that”?

Yeonjun picks up a discarded pistachio shell and throws it in Kai’s direction. “Yes I’m sure!” He sloppily balls up a fist pretending to wind it up at his friend like a much drunker much skinnier popeye. “We have a thing… going on, it’s special.”

“Fucking someone in your car every Wednesday night after class isn’t exactly what I’d call special”. Hueningkai scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Or is that a different person.”

“That was last month’s I think.” Taehyun chimes in.

Yeonjun frowns. “Not helping”.

“Well if your ‘thing’s so special then why haven’t you thought to call this person until just now?” Kai says.

“I don’t wanna bother them. Not on a school night.” Yeonjun replies slowly making his voice smaller and lowering his head in mild shame.

“Bullshit! You had a fight didn’t you. What’d you do this time huh?” Taehyun now turns around to fully face the other two in the booth. “You fuck it up or something is that it?”

“I didn’t-“ Yeonjun starts to raise his voice and then collects himself. “I didn’t do anything!”

“What’d you say!?” Tyunning ask in unison.

We just got into a little fight and haven’t been talking for a minute. It’s not like they’re my partner, it’s not like we’re dating or anything, it’s not a big deal.” He says ignoring the fact that to him it was indeed a big deal.

“Don’t tell me you actually said that to them?” Kai asks, a twinge of cynicism in his otherwise sincere voice. “I mean maybe you should just call them up… I’m sure you’re right, it’s not a big deal” He adds when he notices Yeonjun isn’t answering.

“I don’t know”… Yeonjun looks over to the small group where the rest of his friends are as one of the sorority girls rubs Beomgyu’s shoulder and laughs. “They seem to be having fun.” He bemoans and reaches for the unclaimed and now lukewarm glass on the table and takes a large swig. Yeonjun clears his throat with a guttural release of phlegm and low drunken burp. He blinks slowly before speaking again. “I wish I was having that much fun tonight.” Noticing how Soogyu are able to keep the attention of an entire group of people without even trying to have sex with any of them.

“Don’t be like that man. There’s no point in just wallowing in your sadness all night.” Taehyun says wrapping an arm around Yeonjun who only seems to sink deeper and deeper into the booth as he thinks of you and what you might be up to tonight.

“Whatever happened, just apologize and get it over with.” Kai says.

“He’s right for once!” Taehyun adds “you might feel worse if you keep avoiding it but you’ll definitely feel worse of you keep moping about it all night.”

“Plus your mood is really killing the vibe right now.” Hueningkai leans in “it’s no fun drinking with a sad g— ow!”

Taehyun hits the chatty boy’s shoulder prompting him to stop before rubbing small circles onto Yeonjun’s back.

Normally he would take the opportunity to get a jab in at Kai whenever he can as well, but Yeonjun’s too distracted with the light film of tacky alcohol stuck between his thumb and index to say anything. Just by touching the table he’s yet again reminded of some small moment with you. A moment he probably would have cherished more at the time if he knew he’d eventually fuck up this bad. Usually he’d be way more grossed out by these dirty old tables but the way the rough pads of his fingers take in the combined feeling of damp condensation from the half empty glass in front of him, and whatever sticky thing’s been spilled on the table has his mind wandering elsewhere again.

The many nights he’s spent in your apartment, slender fingers wrapped around the widest part of your thighs with the wetness and the stickiness clinging more to his plush lips and sharp chin than to his fingers. The cushion of his backside just wasn’t as comfortable in this chair as it was when he was propped up against the fluffy white pillows your mom had sent from home. Back against your headboard as your head went lower and lower down his length. The beer here didn’t taste as good as the cans of his favorite brew you kept cold in your fridge just for him, but then again, nothing ever tasted as good as you did. Oh how he wished he was running his hands through your hair and recounting his day instead of whining and running his hands through… ew was that a piece of gum!

No offense to his friends but he would much rather be hearing your little quips and corny jokes than Hueningkai’s right now. He can’t help just getting a bit emotional thinking about all the times you ordered a pizza just to entice him to stay and study a little bit longer and now you won’t even talk to him.

Yeonjun feels a lump form in his throat. At first he thinks it’s just the sad horniness causing it but then he realizes it’s mostly just the sad. He can feel his eyes start to water a bit as the lump gets harder and harder to swallow which only makes him think of you more.

“Are you okay”?

Yeonjun’s not even really sure who asks it but those three words are enough to send him over the edge. He officially becomes the guy who gets too drunk and in his feelings on a night out and the waterworks begin.

“Fuck man! Do you really like them that much?” Taehyun seems genuinely surprised as Yeonjun isn’t always very open about his romantic feelings.

“Are you actually crying right now?” Hueningkai asks as he grabs some bar napkins and gently wipes at his friends face.

Yeonjun attempts to deny the accusations (vehemently at that) but can’t quite get the words out. “No!” he whines and instead crosses his arms on the table and buries his head in between them before anyone can spot to redness creeping its way across his cheeks and under eyes.

“What’s wrong with him?” Beomgyu walks over witnessing the scene before him with a bit of indifference. He places his palms flat on the wood surface and stands before the group confused. “Cool if I drink this?” He asks but finishes off the rest of Yeonjun’s beer without waiting for an answer anyway.

Taehyun shrugs “relationship stuff”

“I think he had a fight and must miss someone or something” Kai attempts to clarify.

Beomgyu furrows his eyebrows for a bit and leans in closer. “Hey buddy just call them” he announces matter of factly, but when he gets no response he reaches over Taehyun and into Yeonjun’s pocket.

Beomgyu finds his friend’s phone with relative ease and stares at the screen. “Let’s see… phone… call history… missed call from mom… missed call from me… aha! This is them right there’s a heart next to the name! How cute”. He coos sarcastically.

Yeonjun’s head shoots up. “What’re you doing!?”

“Fixing your problem.” Beomgyu says like it’s the most stupidly obvious solution ever (because it just might be). He holds the phone up to his ear and taps his foot impatiently on the ground.

“Give me that, are you insane!” Yeonjun lunges out of his seat practically trampling the other two around him in the process. He snatches the phone out of his hand and goes to hang up the call as quickly as possible when he’s met with a pitch black screen. The only things visible his puffy eyed reflection and tousled raven hair. “What the hell…”

“You think I’d actually call them! I don’t know your password dude! I don’t even know who they are-” Beomgyu laughs. “-but you obviously care about this person and you’re already standing up so… He gestures to a quieter part of the bar

“How’d you know-“

“I’m your friend”.

𖦹

It takes some convincing from the other three guys with Soobin eventually coming over and joining the quite forceful pep talk, but after being tricked and a little humiliated, Yeonjun finds himself crouched down in the corridor between the supply closet and the bathroom, hugging his knees with one arm and propping up his phone to his ear with the other.

The first few seconds of rings feel like hours and he isn’t even really sure you’re going to pick up.

“Y/N! Hey! Do you have a second… I wanted to say sorry… Okay I’ve been drinking a little but that’s not important— I was not crying”!

-🍌🍶

[ghostgorlsworld]

Violent Delights Chapter 6

Okay. I know I've been gone for a while, but I'm here to apologize and bring a new chapter lol I love you all

Summary: Billy Hargrove is the silent, angry coworker you've been trying to avoid for months, unwilling to get yourself tangled in Hawkin's bad boy. But one day, you begin to notice the scars on his body, the random attacks of headaches and violent flashbacks, the way you always had a nagging feeling there was someone else peeking at you from his eyes--you've never been able to resist a mystery.

Part One and Two can be found right here: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/writerwannabetree/689499396213243904?source=share

"You're two hours early," you say wryly from your front porch. 

Billy is standing in your driveway, grinning like a vandal with his hands shoved in his pockets. "I didn't want to wait." "You're going to have to wait anyways," You say, gesturing to your wet hair and baggy Elvis shirt. "I just woke up about an hour ago." His eyes drop to your bare thighs, mouth curling at the freshly shaven skin, and you roll your eyes. 

"Where's the parents?" Billy asks, glancing at the empty driveway. "Dinner party with their friends," you answer, stepping back into the house and leaving the front door open behind you. Billy takes the hint, following you into the empty house with a shrug. 

"Are you hungry?" You ask out of politeness. "You want a drink?" "In a minute." Billy eyes your house with interest, the repainted cabinets and second-hand furniture, your baby pictures hung over the mantle. He takes one down to inspect, you in your sophomore year of high school, dressed in a jersey from your boyfriend at the time with your back against your parent's truck.

"I'm in this picture," he says, passing you the frame, "Look." Sure enough, his Camaro is parked in the very corner of the frame, his denim-clad back just barely visible through the blurriness of the camera. "Look at that," you say, "I never noticed." He takes the picture and sets it back on the mantle. "I never knew you dated Smith." "The jersey?" You laugh. "Yeah it lasted a whole month. I dumped him at that Halloween party, I think you had just came into town."

"Remember when I came into town, do you?" Billy asks, his eyes still on that picture. 

"Of course, everyone does. You were the most exciting thing to happen in Hawkins High since Jerry Jones accidentally set fire to the chem teacher." You head into the kitchen to pour yourself and Billy a glass of Kool-aide from the pitcher on the counter. "I'm going to have to get dressed before we go to the movies, you know."

But Billy isn't paying attention—he's too busy pushing open the door to your room. He grins at the fluffy pink bedspread, the piles of books, the embarrassingly large poster of Johnny Depp in the corner. You have pictures tucked into your mirror frame, Steve and Robin grinning beside you in most, the three of you squeezed into the same picture booth. 

"Cute," Billy says, brushing his fingers against a picture of you sunbathing in a skimpy swimsuit. 

"I feel like a zoo exhibit," you say as he snoops around your room, his scarred eyebrow raising at one of Steve's sweaters lying forgotten on your desk chair. 

Billy takes a seat on your bed, sprawling out as if he belongs there, his shirt riding up his stomach to reveal hard stomach and a blonde happy trail. "Nice bed, the springs don't even squeak." There's a double meaning there, his blue eyes dark and languid as they return to the bare flesh of your thighs.

"Oh stop," you say, making a face. "You're getting horny teenage boy all over my room." You reach into your closet for the dress you were planning to wear tonight, a short floral number with sweeping hippie sleeves and a daring neckline. 

Billy whistles, admiring the dress with a tilt of his curly head. "I ain't a teenager anymore, babe." You laugh. "That's even worse." 

***

Billy's POV

Billy is laying on a bed the color of Pepto Bismol, the fabric soft enough to make him want to close his eyes, her smell filling up his nose like the best kind of drug. He had taken off his jacket and left it on her desk, a reminder to both her and Steve that he had been here.

She hums softly from the bathroom as she dresses—if he listens carefully, he can almost hear the fabric sliding against her skin, his stomach filling with heat. Fuck, this room, it was so much better than he could've imagined.

Billy has never been early for a date before, but he couldn't seem to wait. He had done all the things he used to do before a date, showering and slicking his hair with hair gel—he spent fifteen minutes debating between his silky red button up and a plain white shirt before finally deciding she would like the white better, dabbing cologne on his throat, his wrists, below his belt. He took his time, enjoying the anticipation, the nervousness curling in his stomach. It felt like his first time, like he was fifteen again and twitchy with want, with excitement. 

But there was still two and a half hours left, and Billy ran out of cigarettes shortly after he got out of the shower. Fuck it. 

He likes her house, the childhood pictures on the fireplace, the yellow kitchen, the fact that her parents are nowhere to be seen. There's more books in her room than he's ever read in his life, and enough movie posters to wallpaper a small house, but he likes her room—specifically, he likes imagining her in it, showering and changing and reading under her pretty pink covers, wearing only a baggy shirt and panties that make him want to sink his teeth into her plush thighs. 

"Are you behaving in there?" She asks, her voice muffled by the bathroom door. 

Billy grins at the ceiling. "I always behave, sweetheart." "Liar."

Billy looks towards the bathroom door, the leftover steam from her shower still curling into the air. Before the Mindflayer, they would have never even made it to the goddamn movies, not with this empty house and soft bed. He likes to think he would've called her the next day, but honestly, he's always been a fucking asshole when it comes to women.

He liked being an asshole, he liked leaving just because he could. He liked not feeling anything for any of those girls—screwing his way through Hawkin's High was a fun pastime, leaving little cheerleaders crying in the parking lot.

That Billy would have laughed himself fucking sick if he could see him now, sprawled out on a girl's bed with a hard-on just from sniffing her pillows. He couldn't imagine leaving, he couldn't imagine not wanting more.

God, what did the Mindflayer do to him? The next few hours go by in a blur, movie theaters and popcorn, his hand sliding to her lower back when they took their seats in the theater. Just that small movement made his chest hurt, his hands clenching against his seat possessively. 

The movie is boring, the girl wants the rich guy, the best friend wants the girl, and the rich guy is a dickhead—a love triangle, she explains to him in a whisper, I hope she ends up with Duckie. That distracts him to the curve of her breasts in her low neckline, her softness that makes his mouth water. 

The Molly Ringwald chick doesn't end up with Duckie, which pisses him off for some reason. The rich guy doesn't know what he wants, he's unsure and helpless and doesn't understand her, yet somehow he still got the girl. It's bullshit, and that's what he tells her on their way out of the theater, his hand tucked in her back pocket like a claim.

She shrugs, "Sometimes girls are stupid, you know? What's best for us isn't usually what we want."

"Are you talking about me?" She grins, "I don't know, do you think I want you?" "You wouldn't be here if you didn't," Billy says wryly, leading them to his car. "Are you ready to go home or…do something else?" She leans against his Camaro as he opens the door for her, looking at him in that contemplative way again. "What's something else?" "We could go back to my house." Her face winces, and he quickly adds, "To kiss and shit, not fuck. I'm just not ready to bring you home." She thinks about it, he can see her pretty cogs turn. "Okay." "Okay?" Billy asks, taken off guard. 

"Okay."

[shadowuponstorm]

First Love

A/N: Reader has lived in Beacon Hills for as long as she could remember and made many friends, ask them if they still consider her one after she and her family moved away. Time may have passed since she's been there, but you never forget your first love. Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV Series)

"Yes, I've arrived safely and am already on my way to you," I say into the receiver of my cellphone as I pack up my bags into the car my nana and pops left for me to drive from the airport, "Can't wait to finally be back home."

"And see your friends? As well as a certain Stilinski?" My nana ask teasingly over the phone, making me roll my eyes.

"Yes, I'm excited to see Sheriff Stilinski again," I rebut back jokingly as Nana replies, "You know that was not the one I was referring to."

"Yes, I know, I gotta go," I say as I put the last of my bags in the trunk and shut it, "Key in the same place?"

"You know us so well, love you, can't wait to see you," Nana responds as I tell her I loved her too and hung up the phone.

I entered the car, but before I started it, I leaned my head back and sighed. I wonder how things went on since I've been gone, especially all my friends and yes, even the guy my nana had to remind me that I've had a crush on since I was younger. After a few minutes, I reached over to the glove compartment to take out the key and was on my way back to Beacon Hills, where I'll be staying for a while.

-Beacon Hills-

I arrived at my grandparents' house to see Pops already waiting for me on the front porch, with a huge smile on his face seeing me.

"Hey sweet girl," Pops says as I rush over to him and enter his embrace, to which he turned into a bear hug, "How was the flight?"

"Bumpy at times, but that's what happens when you are that high in the air," I reply as I exit his hug to look over at the neighbor's house, which is missing a police cruiser and a blue Jeep in the driveway.

"He's at school right now, but don't you worry, you'll see him when you go. It's all been sorted out," Pops says with a smirk on his face, making me mentally slap my forehead.

This is what I get for telling my grandparents about my little crush.

"Not why I was looking, but anyways, I'm guessing Sheriff Stilinski sold Roscoe?" I ask as Pops and I walk over to my car to unload the trunk.

"No, actually, Stiles is driving it, so she's getting some use in," Pops respond as I turn my head quickly to express my shock.

"Stiles, we're still talking about Mieczyslaw Stilinski here?" I asked as Pops laughs and says, "Yes, we're still talking about him. He's grown up quite a bit since you last saw him."

After Pops and I finished unloading, we then went into the house to put the luggage into my room, which hasn't changed a bit. As I'm unpacking and putting things away, I look up to the top of the dresser to see a framed picture of me, Stiles, and Scott when we were kids.

"They still hang out together you know? Except they get themselves into things they shouldn't now," Pops mentions from behind me, making me laugh and respond, "Wouldn't surprise me."

I can't wait to see those crazy boys at school soon.

"Y/N? Wallen?" I hear Nana call out from the entrance, "I'm home!"

-High School-

I pull into an empty parking space and looked all around the school. So many unfamiliar and familiar faces, which reminds me that I qualify in the unfamiliar category. I exit the car and pull my bag out from the back seat to prepare to walk to the front office to grab my locker number as well as my class schedule.

"Wait who is she?" "Do you see what she's wearing?" "Is she new or has she always been going here?" I hear people whisper as I make my way through the crowds, trying to block them out as best I can if the whispers aren't out of curiosity.

After I arrived at the front office, I tell the receptionist my name and watch as she ruffles through the paperwork to find what I need. She hands them to me after what felt like five minutes and then asked, "Would you like help finding your classes? I can call up someone to do so."

"No I think I got it from here, but thank you," I respond as I give the receptionist a smile and wished her a good day before leaving to enter back into the hallways.

I looked at my class schedule to see I have Economics & Intro to Business with Mr. Finstock, aka the coach of the Lacrosse team. At least that's easy to find, the man never likes to be far away from his office. I walked in the direction of the locker rooms and as I got closer, I could see two familiar faces through the window of the door.

They look..really grown up. He looks so different. Wow

I could see Coach talking so I knocked on the door to grab his attention, hoping he won't be too mad about the interruption. Coach turns to look and walks over to open the door to ask, "Hi, yes, what do you want?"

"New student, sorry," I respond as Coach slaps a hand on his forehead before saying, "Right, of course, they told me that. Come in and don't worry, you don't have to introduce yourself to the whole class." as he steps aside to let me in. I looked around the room for an empty seat, which of course was in the middle of a row two spaces from the row Scott and Stiles were in, and took it.

As the class went on, I could hear whispering but couldn't place who was doing it since I'd rather pay attention to my studies than what rumors were about to sprout about me throughout the school. The bell rang and I was almost out the door when I felt a hand go on my shoulder, prompting me to turn around to see the two guys I'd been longing to see since my return to town.

"Sorry, but you look really familiar," Scott says as he and Stiles are looking like they're still trying to figure out who I am.

Wanting to mess with them a little, I reply, "Oh interesting, sorry, I really need to get to my next class" and left, leaving them baffled with confusion.

I grabbed my lunch and was looking for somewhere to sit when I spotted another familiar face, one I wasn't excited to see, Jackson Whittemore. He was such a jackass to me when we were younger and probably still is, but Stiles and Scott are sitting with him alongside two girls, with an empty seat next to Stiles. I walk over to hear Stiles say to Scott, "Dude I'm telling you, she looks so familiar, I just can't put my finger on it."

"Hello," I respond from behind him, scaring him in the process, "Is the seat beside you taken?"

"U-uh no, it isn't," Stiles stutters out as I sit beside him and start eating, while Jackson looks at him perplexed.

"Wow Stilinski, the new girl already got you stuttering. You haven't done that in a long time," Jackson says with a smirk on his face as the strawberry blonde girl seated beside him tells him to stop.

"What do you mean?" I asked as I'm curious as to what he was talking about and Scott immediately says, "Nothing of concern, he just hasn't done it since the girl he liked moved away."

"If you don't mind telling me, what was she like?" I respond as Stiles shook his head and reply, "I don't feel comfortable airing it out."

"That's okay, was just wondering," I respond as I went back to eating lunch, but not before seeing the strawberry blonde staring at me intensely.

After the lunch bell rang, I was standing at my locker switching notebooks and textbooks when I see someone lean across the opposite locker with their arms crossed.

"You know who he was talking about," I hear Lydia say as I looked at her in confusion and mention, "Many come and go in Beacon Hills, I'm not the only one."

"Oh come on, even I was aware at that time he was in love with you," Lydia responds as I shook my head and shut my locker, "Y/N, he was heartbroken when you moved away. He wouldn't stop looking sad."

I sighed before I looked at Lydia and said, "I was just another one of his best friends, he wasn't in love with me. Not in the way I was with him" whispering the last part before walking away to my next class.

After the final bell rang, I headed out to the parking lot, rushing since it was pouring, and slammed my door shut behind me after I jumped in the car. I rested my head on the headrest to catch my breath and looked forward to spotting Lydia talking to Stiles, protected from the pouring rain.

He looks happy to be talking to her..good for him, he's liked her for a long time. Too bad he's never and will never look at me like that.

I sighed before putting the key in the ignition and reversing out of the spot when I could feel my eyes brimming with tears, damn it.

I was quick to get back home and rush inside before anyone, including Nana and Pops, could see me cry about the impossible. I put my bag into the desk chair before I lay on the bed and grabbed a pillow to hold close to me. It felt like hours went by watching the raindrops fall down my window when I heard a knock on the front door.

"Nana and Pops were good about remembering their keys so it couldn't be them," I silently remembered as I headed down the stairs to look through the peephole, seeing someone I didn't expect to see and opened the door to a dripping wet from head to toe Stiles Stilinski.

"Hey," Stiles says, breaking the silent tension between us as we're just standing there staring at each other, I reply, "Hi."

"Do you want to," I started to ask when Stiles interrupts me with, "Why didn't you tell me and Scott who you were when we asked?"

"I-I don't have an exact answer besides I was scared," I answered as Stiles looked at me confused and asked, "Scared of what?"

"Stiles, I can't do this right now. I've got homework and chores to help out with, so I'll talk to you later," I say as I turn to enter back into the house before I feel a hand reach out to me, holding me in place.

"Y/N," Stiles whisper as he pulls me toward him and asks again, "What are you scared of? You know you can tell me."

I sighed and closed my eyes before answering, "Scared that you hated me for something I couldn't control, scared you wouldn't like who I've become, and scared of finding out that you don't harbor the same feelings I do."

After a few moments of silence, I feared my worst fear was coming true until I hear him start to laugh, the most beautiful laugh I've ever heard, causing me to open my eyes to see him doubled over.

"What's so funny?" I asked, confused before he placed his cold hands on my face so I could stare into his dark brown eyes as he spoke.

"Do you realize how much you mean to me? Yes, you were my best friend and it may have seemed like that was all that was going to happen between us, but you were also my first crush and I wanted you to be more than that. After you left, I didn't look at any other girls the way I looked at you, not even Lydia, because you were the only one who could make me feel the way I felt being around you," Stiles whispers as I softly smile and blush before he continued with, "You are my first love, Y/N M/N L/N, and if you'll have me, I would like to be the only guy you've ever loved besides your dad and grandpa."

Before I could give my answer to Stiles, I laughed while shivering out, "Your hands are very cold, Stilinski."

"Oh really? And what are you going to do about it?" Stiles asks before I started to shove him back out into the pouring rain, which in turn made him grab my hand and pull me out with him, making us laugh.

"Maybe I'll do this," I whispered as I got up on my tiptoes and kissed him, wrapping my arms around his neck as he moves one hand behind my head and the other resting on my waist.

[letsgivethisonemoreshot]

Indecent Proposal

Gang Shit part 5

Summary: This story is just never going to leave me. Kate has to tell Tyler that they're needed for a meeting. While having a rare discussion, Tyler discovers that Kate needs a little help and offers a solution. But by the end of the night, she gets a lot more than she planned. Still all @norfkid fault. Also this is not the end. I have more in the mind planned.

Trigger Warnings: Language, implied sexual situations,

Words: 2,093

Kate walked through the hallways of the mostly empty house until she came to Tyler’s room. His door was wide open so she stood at the opening and knocked on the door frame. He looked up from what he was doing and smiled when he saw it was her.

“Katie. To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from you?”

“Call me that again and I’ll rip your balls off,” She replied abrasively. “Trent called. He said that when he gets back tonight he wants to have a meeting with is about starting our plans with Judgement Day.”

“Oh. Does that mean we’re going to dress you in all leather and you pretend you’re a dominatrix?” Tyler asked raising his eyebrows.

“It’s a good thought, but you don’t seem like the kind of person that wants to lend out their own clothes,” Kate smiled sweetly.

“I’d make a joke about you searching through my closet for something to wear, but you’d come no where near here if you knew what kind of stuff I had in there.”

Kate stood silently in the doorway not quite sure how to respond. Of course Tyler finds ways to throw sexuality, innuendos, and threats into any conversation, but this time Kate actually found herself intrigued by his statement. She spent enough time around Tyler to know that he was dead serious about what he said. And she found herself wondering what type of things he kept hidden in his own personal space.

“Thinkin’ about takin’ a look?” He asked breaking out of her thought.

Kate slightly shook her head, knowing she must have looked a bit silly staring off into space. “No thanks. I’m good.”

“You sure about that? Your fuck buddy and Ridge have been gone for a bit and probably aren’t going to be home until at least Thursday.”

“Gee, thanks for your concern. But I think I’ve got myself handled thanks.” Kate replied with sarcasm.

“I don’t know. You’re getting bitchier by the day.”

He was right, not that she’d ever tell him that. She had been getting easily agitated lately and her lack of intimacy was most likely to blame. It had been a while since she and Pete had hooked up, and she hadn’t really been with anyone since she started living with Trent’s organization. There hadn’t really been much of a need to go outside of who she had, especially when they both had a good time. But the last few days she had been really worked up. So much so that masturbating just wasn’t doing anything for her.  

“You’re a real asshole sometimes, you know that?”

“Thank you darlin’,” Tyler replied with a huge smile across his bearded face causing Kate to roll her eyes.

“God I can’t stand you,” She mumbled.

“I know,” He acknowledged her comment anyway. “You know you can probably always talk to Trent. He has a bunch of clubs filled with ladies for whenever any of us want a little fun. I’m sure he can do something for you.”

“He’ll probably tell me that’s what Marcel and Fabian are for,” She sighed.

“What? Not your type?”

“The point of hooking up with someone is to feel good, so no not really. My type would be someone that actually knew how to get a girl off,” She answered as she leaned against the frame to get more comfortable.

Her comment caught Tyler off guard and he burst out laughing. Sure the two groups had been friendly since slightly joining together, but they weren’t close by any means. Tyler, Pete, and Ridge had made fun of Marcel and Fabian behind their backs before, but Kate was never apart of it. Hearing her join in actually dropped his guard a bit, and hearing him genuinely laugh brought a small smile to Kate’s face. She crossed her arms as she continued to lean against the door frame on her shoulder.

“You don’t think they can?”

“One, I’d bet five grand that no matter how big of a game they talk, they couldn’t find my clit even with directions. Two, even if they could, they wouldn’t. They’re the type that only care about their own pleasure and that defeats the purpose of me hooking up with them.”

“Well if you ever feel the need, my closet is your closet,” Tyler said after a chuckle.

“Thanks, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be that desperate,” She replied as she pushed away from the frame about to leave.

“Whatever you say Katie,”

“The fuck did I tell you about calling me that?” She asked harshly as she stopped herself from walking away.

“They’re right here. Come and take ‘em.”  He challenged while he continued to mess around with what he was working on.

“Believe me if there is ever an opportunity for someone to cut your manhood off I would be the first in line.”

Tyler chuckled before looking her in the eyes, a darker tone coating his voice as he spoke now. “You seem to forget just how much of a man I am love. You know damn well I’m capable of making any woman scream. Just depends on them if it’s pain or pleasure.”

“Well you’re always a pain in my ass. And not the good kind,” Kate retorted, trying to sound how she normally does around him and not as if his words were bringing him back to the night she met him.

“You get that for free. Just a perk of living here.” He joked while winking at her. But, you could get the pleasure too. Just tell me how you want it.”

He set down the electronics he had been playing with on a desk that was by his bed standing there with his arms crossed as if he was making a legitimate offer. Kate was fine with this just being banter between them, but the longer she stood in his room with him, and the longer he talked, the more she didn’t want to leave. Somehow through her conversation with him she had felt her underwear damped throughout the course of it. Now painfully aware that she had been slightly squeezing her thighs together to try and relieve the building pressure. And incredibly embarrassed because she realized she didn’t know how long she had been doing so.

“But that part’s not free. Hypothetically speaking.”

Tyler crossed his arms. “Quite simple really. I get you off. You get me off. And I get to enjoy the visual of you falling apart for me. That’s always a plus.”

“You say that like I’d just fall into your bed and start begging.”

He shrugged. “Might have to. What if once I get you under me I tell you I want to hear you beg for it or I won’t make you cum. Then what? You have two choices. Leave unsatisfied and hornier than ya were when you came in here, or beg.”

‘No one would ever be that needy’ is the response that would have usually left Kate’s mouth. Except for in this instance, she might be. She might have to swallow her pride and the dislike she had for Tyler just to get some relief. She just had to figure out if she’d be able to look herself in the mirror later if she gave in.

“Fuck it,” She mumbled as she walked fully into his room to where he stood, slamming the door closed behind her. “You got fifteen minutes Bate.”

Tyler chuckled briefly before grabbing Kate by the arm and carefully spinning her around to face the bed before pushing down on her upper back. Kate let him bend her over the edge of the bed as goosebumps began to rise out of her flesh. Partially for the excitement of what was about to happen. But partially nervousness of being alone with him and allowing him to have control. He stood behind her, one hand placed on her hip as he pulled her lower body closer to his. Kate wiggled against him, trying to get comfortable, and was able to feel just how hard their conversation had made him. Tyler didn’t expect it and a slight groan fell from his lips as he pushed his body even closer to hers, grinding against her. His other hand slowly traced up her back to the back of her neck as his fingers slowly intertwined with her hair before pulling on it yanking her head up. He smiled as she pushed against him even more.

“You’re in my domain now sweetheart. I’ll play with you as long as I want.”

Later that night, Kate was walking down the hallway towards Trent’s office he had on the top floor of the building. She knocked on the door at precisely the time he told her to be there and was met with his deep voice on the other side telling her to come in. She opened the heavy wooden door and entered to see Trent sitting in the large chair behind his desk. Tyler was already in the room, but she also noticed another man in one of the seats across from the desk. Kate was slightly confused at first because she thought the meeting was suppose to just be herself, Tyler and Trent. She had never seen this other man before.

“Ah. Needed to bring in one of your girls for the next meeting? Long day?” The man asked as Kate got closer to the desk.

Her face scrunched up slightly as she heard what this man had to say. She wanted to give him a piece of her mind, but before she was able to answer, Trent spoke.

“No. Not this time. She’s worth more than some whore on her knees.”

Kate found herself smiling at his answer. She felt pride in herself that he thought that highly of her. It made her feel like she was a beneficial part in his organization, and doing a good job proving her loyalty. It made her feel like when she was younger and Sheamus had taken her in and began to show her the ropes. She picked everything up quickly and he would tell her what a good job she was doing. And her worries began to fade about useful enough to have a place to stay and become an active part of the group. She hadn’t felt that in a long time.

“You got a girl working for you now? And a hot one at that?” The mystery man asked surprised. “She could make you a lot of money in your club with that look.”

“Look at that face,” Trent instructed as he pointed at Kate. “I’ve seen that face sad, angry, upset, happy, you name it. That face can infiltrate anyone’s heart and can be a ticket inside. That is entirely more valuable than however many twenties will get thrown at her in a night.”

“Well then,” He began as he started to stand up. “If you ever change your mind and want to test her out, let me know.”

“I’d quit while ahead if I was you mate. Her bite is actually worse than her bark.” Trent warned.

“And I’ve heard her bark plenty. It’s pretty vicious.” Tyler added.

“Close the door on your way out. Someone will show you to the front.”

Kate didn’t say anything to him, but tried to keep a stern look on her face which was a bit difficult since she was beaming internally. She waited until the door was closed before she spoke.

“Well he seems nice,” She stated sarcastically.

“You shoulda heard him earlier. Lad doesn’t know when to shut up,” Tyler said.

“Sounds familiar.”

“At least I was here to listen to him,” Tyler mumbled.

“Hey. I got here at the time Mr. Seven asked me to be here.”

Trent cleared his throat causing both of them to stop talking and look at him.

“In order for this to work, I’m going to need the two of you to work together and trust each other. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Of course not boss. You know I’m always professional when I need to be. And you know where my loyalty lies.” Tyler answered.

“What about you?” He asked as he looked at Kate.

Kate looked over her shoulder to Tyler, then back to Trent.

“No, sir. Tyler may be a dick and there may be times I’d like to shove a cactus down his throat, but I know he has my back. And I’ll have his.”

[ourpretender]

— ❛ last night didn't mean anything. you know that, right? ❜ / @tragedyrich

even if oliver had predicted this -- collected enough information, enough fodder to recognize nate's near volcanic amount of internalized homophobia, and even heftier amounts of attachment issues -- he's irritable anyway. it had been a good night, free flowing chemistry, flirtatious and bold exchanges bookended with a private, unexpected intimacy. their voices had travelled, grasping hands and snaking thighs shivering -- blunt arousal obvious even in the intentional darkness, and oliver remembers laughing, giggling when nate's hands slid under his shirt, cold from the weather. he's helping himself to a cup of water when this conversation arises, abrupt -- presumably rushing. the jacobs' household is solemn, too large and too quiet even for a man like nate. and although oliver knows himself to skirt the edge of normalcy more often than not (addictive traits squeezing him into questionable situations), nate rivals him with hidden, angled frames. none of their family photographs look oliver's way -- some of them lying flat, most of them turned from view. setting the emptied glass into the sink, he turns then to face nate, folded arms and curly bedhead framing a visible annoyance. it's hardly smart to taunt a paranoid, anxious bull, but oliver pointedly avoids agreeing, and prods anyway. "do you always cover up your family photos before you invite a guy over to shag?"

[hellmouth-manor]

Globus Cruciger || Trial 1.6 || Hisashi || RE: who? me?

A lot has happened since Hisashi insisted they check Cedric’s pockets for proof of evidence. In a lot of ways, it’s hard to keep up with.

Remaining pockets emptied, phone conversations displayed, Cedric battered and beaten in every way but physical– new names thrown around still in reference to money and motive until, eventually, his own name is thrown back into the air because of the evidence–

And then it’s snatched right back out before he even has a chance to think that hard about it. Once by Eli, again by Alou, and again by Poppy of all people.

Hisashi, whose brow had remained furrowed all this while, looks increasingly perplexed each time his name is spoken, denied, spoken, denied, spoken, denied–

His hand, still resting loosely in front of his mouth, cups over it entirely now. His other arm wraps tighter around his stomach, and as he slowly hunches forward over his podium and closes his eyes, you might think it’s finally gotten to be too much for him.

This has, after all, been an incredibly stressful few hours.

It’s only natural–

That his shoulders shake–

That his hand muffle the sound–

Until he just can’t take it anymore.

[♫♫♫]

Most of you have likely grown accustom to Hisashi’s light, pleasant laughter. The laugh that now claws its way out of his throat and into your ears is anything but. It’s a harsh sounds, dry and scratchy and unpleasant–

And it lasts for a good five or more seconds before he finally straightens up and takes in a familiar deep breath.

“God, sorry. It’s just–” He pauses, wiping at one of his eyes and clearly trying to not start laughing again. “This is so fucking pitiful.”

Leaning forward on his podium with one arm, he motions his other hand out at the group.

“Aha– I mean, wow! What a shit show!”

The laughter gives way to a sigh, something like a smile still playing at his lips. It’s not unfamiliar; you’ve seen it every time you’ve spoken to the man. It’s just that–

It doesn’t reach his eyes.

Perhaps, in this moment, you suddenly realize it never has. How you missed it before, you can’t be sure.

It’s decently short-lived, however. Hisashi’s gaze turns from the crowd to Cedric, empty smile dying away into nothing at all.

“You know, Cedric– I said to make useful friends. Not friends you actually like. I really thought you might listen to me for once, but… Well, I guess that’s on me, isn’t it? And, really, it’s not like they weren’t useful.”

He pushes back off of the podium, stretching his arms casually above his head for a moment, like he’s only just now been able to spread himself to his full height. It seems he’s done talking to Cedric for the moment–

And it’s now that your mind starts to adjust to the change in demeanor, as if your eyes were adjusting to the lights suddenly going out.

His eyes are sharp– cold– empty. They do not match the smile that tugs again at his lips. They do match the sudden surety of his posture; the change from player to predator.

“I mean, you were all such good friends that you conveniently forgot every single reason you already said about why it couldn’t be him. It’s kinda funny– I don’t think I could’ve half-assed that frame job more than I did even if I tried!”

He laughs again, like he’s heard a particularly funny joke.

“Who the fuck manages to rip a napkin apart while putting it in their pocket? I don’t even know how you’d do that? And the flower– man.”

With a shake of his head, Hisashi crosses his arms in front of him. One hand lifts to rest on his cheek, the occasional chuckle still scratching its way free while he speaks.

“Well, anyway… Geez. Do I need to, like, prove it’s me so that you don’t take me off the suspect list again? Should I talk about how the oxygen in hydrogen peroxide is what breaks down the hemoglobin? About how, in a real crime scene, you clean with oxygenated bleach to destroy DNA?”

The longer he speaks, the more you notice that his tone also seems to…

“The easiest way to get away with murder is to make sure nobody knows one happened. You use bone saws. Dissolving agents. Proper disposal. A car to take you 200 miles out. You don’t kill someone you know. All things that aren’t options here, of course.”

Grow…

“It’s why I thought I’d have a little fun with it this time. See what happens. I mean, I’ve never been caught before. Why not enjoy a new experience?”

…Empty.

“But fuck me– If I’d known it would go like this, I would’ve gone ahead and bled half of you out in the kitchen freezer and been on my merry way.”

His chin tilts up, glancing from person to person.

“Luckily for you all, I’m really not that interested in leaving. So, you’re welcome. Nobody random has to die. Yay, team! But… Aha–”

[♫♫♫]

It’s all empty now; voice, eyes, expression.

The smile has disappeared completely, and all that’s left behind is a man you have never met until now.

“This is going to happen again eventually. We all know that, right? Right. So let’s be honest. With stakes like these and a performance like this– ”

“You’re all as good as dead.”

[minjix]

grief → Vinnie Hacker x reader

requested! can u do when vinnie hacker comforts you when a close family member passed away? :)

a/n: we have an aunt and i killed her ( ◠‿◠ )

warnings: mentions death, sad hours :(

masterlist

The news came out of nowhere, in the form of a simple text. ‘She passed away last night. I’m sorry’

You’ve never dealt with anyones death, not on this level. Your aunt was someone who raised you when your own parents couldn’t take the time out of their days to care for you.

You blanked out as you reread the text, the words glaring at you, forming a dark pit in your stomach that threatened to swallow you whole.

Around you the conversation kept going, Vinnie and Thomas playfully arguing while everyone else pitched in every once in a while.

You became mad, at yourself, at your parents and your aunt. Why would she leave you like this? You ridiculed yourself when you felt tears forming in your eyes. With your thumb anxiously swiping on the phone screen, your head down so no one would ask questions.

You wanted to leave, god, you wanted to run. But you were frozen in your seat, on display for everyone to witness your downfall.

A smack on your arm shook you from your thoughts. It was Larray, “who’s side are you on?” He chuckled. “Your boyfriend’s or Thomas’s?”

You looked up, unable to speak. You knew you eyes were red and it didn’t help once you noticed that every pair of eyes in that room was on you.

“Whoa, you okay?” It was Nikita this time. She stood in front of you, next to Vinnie and Thomas, the former boy who’s eyes were burning a hole into your head.

It caught up to you now. How you would never feel her warm embrace when you felt cold, or how you and her had the best time cooking together, talking about your crushes. She was gone, forever.

You remembered when you told her about Vinnie, after that phone call she became yours and Vinnie’s number one supporter. She never once doubted you or those you chose to trust. She was your everything and now she’s dead.

You were tempted to ask why but stopped the thought before it manifested itself into actions. ‘Knowing won’t bring her back,’ you told yourself as the floodgates opened up.

If you weren’t grieving, the sight before you would make you laugh. Every pair of eyes on you were wide open with panic. You weren’t one to cry not in public anyways, especially with cameras around.

Vinnie rushed forward, grabbing your cheeks carefully while everyone watched on, not knowing what to do.

“Hey, hey, what happened?” He sounded almost frantic, his brown eyes wide, searching yours for an answer. Literally ten minutes ago you were fine, laughing along with everyone else. And the blonde haired boy had been by your side the whole day, so it was safe to say that he was confused, and worriedly so.

“She’s dead” your voice cracked painfully. Vinnie’s heart stopped, he had a feeling, but he prayed he was wrong. “My aunt, she’s dead.” And there it was, four words confirming it.

Vinnie could feel his eyes burn, a wonderful woman who greeted him with open arms and gave him a shoulder to cry on when he didn’t want to bother you with his thoughts.

He swallowed the lump that threatened to choke him and wrapped his arms around your shaking frame.

The room was empty now, even the camera crew were gone, it was just you two, grieving together.

“I love you so much, Y/n,” he cried into your neck, “you’ll be okay.” He wasn’t sure wether he made that promise to you or himself, but he’d made sure it’d come true.

꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦ ꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷

can’t write an ending even if my life depended on it :/

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter 3: Photo-Op

Raining Hellfire Series | Season One

Word Count: 6,843 words.

Warnings: Swearing, flashbacks to past trauma, mentions of sex, bullying, dead bodies mentioned, mentions of blood, just a lot of angst if I'm honest

[A/N: I applaud anyone who is still interested in this story haha]

Photo-Op

Your nightmares that night were a blur.

Flashes of unwanted memories mixed with the image of the unknown figure you saw in the forest. It was enough for you to wake up to the sound of your racing heart. Your breathing as equally as erratic. Your cheek throbbed while you tried to steady yourself.

Well yesterday was… eventful, you thought as you lifted yourself out of bed.

You had three goals for today: find out the plan from the boys, apologise to Barb for last night, and for once in your life go to bed early. These sleepless nights from staying out too late were starting to be a problem.

After a quick shower and changing into a Metallica shirt you found the last time you went shopping, you left the empty house and walked over to the Wheelers’. Karen opened the door almost as soon as you knocked and let you inside, offering breakfast. You politely declined.

“Nancy’s in her room.” She stated. She didn’t sound too happy.

“Um, actually I promised Dustin and the boys that I’d help them with something.” For once, not a complete lie.

“Oh,” She was surprised, “I think they’re in the basement. Probably planning their next big game or something.”

“Thank you.” You smiled and she tried to smile back, her lips twitching upwards but her eyes still. You wanted to ask her what was wrong but she just continued to the kitchen and you were on a limited time frame to talk to the boys before school started.

Approaching the basement door, you began to hear the voices of Dustin, Lucas, and Mike.

“And besides, why do we even need weapons anyway?”

You swung open the door, taking your cue and earning a small scream from Lucas as he threw a Nutty Bar at you.

“Damn, I love Nutty Bars.” You said, catching it in your hand before joining them around the table.

“Right? Anyway, back to my question, why do we need weapons when we have her?” Dustin says, pointing to El who sat in a blanket fort in the corner of the basement. You smiled at her and she gave you a little wave.

“She shut one door!” Lucas declared.

“With her mind!” Dustin shot back, “Are you kidding me? That’s insane! Imagine all the other cool stuff she could do.”

“Like what?” You say, curious.

“Like…” Dustin proceeded to look around before presenting a model replica of the Millennium Falcon, “I bet… she could make this fly!”

You and Lucas stared at eachother, concerned expressions on your faces. Lucas was most likely concerned for Dustin’s mental health while you were concerned that this party would be pushing El a little too far.

“Hey. Hey.” Dustin was trying to get El’s attention, “Okay, concentrate. Okay?”

El just stared at him as he dropped the ship. It hit the ground with a loud clatter.

“Okay, one more time. Okay. Use your powers, okay?”

You stifled your laugh as the ship crashed into the floor yet again.

“Idiot.” Lucas muttered, shaking his head.

“She’s not a dog!” Mike grabbed the ship, placing it on the table.

You looked down at the table to see the contents spilled across it; snacks and some sort of make-shift spy equipment.

“Um, what is this for?” You looked at Dustin.

“Boys! Time for school!” Karen’s voice rang out from upstairs and Dustin gave you a quick shrug before running away.

“Hey!” He was already gone.

You turned to see Mike talking to El, asking her to stay put.

“Come on, you need to get to school before your mom comes down to get you.” You said, a hand on his shoulder just as Karen called for her son.

“Coming!” He yelled back, not moving.

“Hey, Y/n. Are you free after school?” He asks, looking up at you.

“Uh, sure.” You reply hesitantly.

“Okay. El,” His focus shifts back to the young girl, “You know those power lines?”

“Power lines?” She repeats.

“Yeah. The ones behind my house?”

“Yes.”

“Meet us there, after school.”

“After school?”

“Yeah, 3:15.”

She looks at him in confusion and you hand him your watch, already knowing that she probably didn’t know how to tell the time. He straps it onto her wrist and shows her how to use it.

“Three-one-five.” She finally agrees.

“Oh and Y/n, you-”

“Yeah, I’ll see you there too.” You nod and he rushes up the stairs and out of the basement.

You crouch down next to the girl and she smiles at you, reaching out to touch your hair.

“Okay, I’ll see you later El, at…” You try to remind her.

“Three-one-five.”

“That’s my girl.” You quickly hug her and follow Mike’s path up the stairs.

You didn’t see Barb outside the school in her usual waiting spot.

You figured Nancy had gotten here before you and they went inside together. You were already dreading whatever conversation was waiting for you inside. Covering your bruised cheek with your hair, you headed through the double doors and stepped into the noisy hallway.

As you passed people, you heard hushed whispers. Gossip was usual for this school and you figured you’d hear your name after yesterday’s fight.

“Did you hear about Nancy Wheeler?”

The whisper passed you just as quickly as it spoke. Nancy? Why was she suddenly the trending gossip?

You made your way to your locker and were shocked to see that there was no Barb patiently waiting there for you. Usually she would be eager to tell you little things, like animals she may have seen on her walk to school, or whatever she saw on the TV the previous night. You figured she’d have loads to say about last night’s disappointment.

Still, you continued to your locker, rummaging around to find the books you needed and filling up your backpack. Turning around, you noticed yet another defiled poster of Will.

“What is wrong with people?” You muttered. You shut your locker and walked over, taking the poster down and making a mental note to check if Jonathan had some to spare.

“Hey!”

You heard the familiar nervous laugh of your friend from behind you and turned to greet her. Even if she did act a little weird at the party, you weren’t going to be angry at her for spending time with her boyfriend.

“Is everything okay?” Steve’s slightly concerned voice rang out. Never mind, you might just stay put instead.

“Yeah! Yeah, totally.” Everything was clearly not alright.

“I just… I feel like everyone’s… staring at me.”

You definitely noticed it. That alongside the whispered rumours, something definitely happened that you didn’t know about.

“Oh, I didn’t… I didn’t tell anyone.” Steve said quickly.

Oh, you thought, realisation kicking in. Did they…?

“But what about, like, Tommy, and Carol and them?”

“You’re being paranoid.”

Fucking Carol and Tommy. Turns out you had a fourth goal of the day.

“I had a good time.” You heard Steve say and you knew exactly what had happened now.

Was that happening while Barb was sat outside all alone? You felt a little guilt for leaving her alone like that. It’s probably why she isn’t with you or Nancy right now.

The bell rang and you gripped the poster in your hand ready to throw away, heading to your first class.

“You… you really did it?” Your best friend whispered. She was sat in your room, hugging your pillow as you told her what happened.

“Yep.” You whispered back.

“Did you… like it?” She asks, waiting for your response.

The truth is, you wanted to wait. Until you were old enough to not regret it. Until you were with someone that you actually… loved. However, when you saw the concerned look on Lillian’s face, you rethought your original reply.

“It was magical.” You put on a fake smile as she nodded, getting back out the small manual to a game she was apparently playing with people at school, one you didn’t recognise.

You wanted to at least spare her the pain of the truth.

“Hey, Y/n.”

Nancy slipped into the seat behind you, leaning forward to whisper.

“What?” You turn your head slightly, trying to concentrate on the words in front of you. You didn’t want to fall behind in History again.

“Oh.” She said, slightly taken-aback at your attitude, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You said a little softer that time. If anything, you most definitely weren’t fine. Freaky stuff was happening lately and you couldn’t find Barb.

“Where’s Barb?” She asked almost immediately as you followed her eyes to Barb’s empty desk.

“Shouldn’t you know? You were there last, I… had to leave early.” You lied. I just didn’t feel like spending anymore time with you, you thought, staring back at the pages in front of you. You hated History.

“I was… busy.” Nancy simply said, putting her head in her hand and flipping through her notes. She didn’t even want to tell you what happened.

“I know.” You muttered to yourself. You just hope Barb didn’t hate you both forever for leaving her last night.

Your teacher walked in a few seconds later, droning on about the World Wars and their impacts on the economy. You would gladly be anywhere else but here.

With a sigh, you turned your attention to the window, gently tapping your pencil onto your paper. It was a nice day outside, despite the cold weather. Leaves scattered the ground around the trees that lined the school. You found that their trunks provided surprisingly comfortable resting places for students to study. No one ever studied outside though, they either ran to the library or chose to ignore their exams.

Your pencil stopped tapping when your eyes came across a pleasant surprise. Eddie sat just beneath the tree on the far right side, drumming his hands on his knees as he jammed out to some music. Except, he wasn’t wearing headphones.

You smiled and before you really knew what you were doing, your hand shot up. Everyone else at this point was focused on some small History tasks, a lulled silence filling the room. Your teacher called you to the front, positioning his glasses back on his nose as you approached his desk.

“What can I do for you, Miss Y/n?” He asked with a monotone voice.

“I have cramps, Sir.” Complete lie.

“Oh, well, go ahead. Here’s the hall pass.” He said quickly and you walked out of the room, gripping your bag tightly. You tried your best to ignore Nancy’s confused stare.

You walked straight past the bathroom.

You walked completely past the Nurse’s office.

You even walked past the principal who didn’t even bother to give you a second glance.

You kept walking until you hit the back exit to the school that would lead you to the field, walking around until finding the familiar line of trees. You knew you wouldn’t be caught by your teacher. For one, you weren’t sure he even knew his classroom had windows and two, as long as you sat the other side of the tree, you were hidden from sight.

Approaching the tree in the far right corner, you walked around it’s base until heavily planting yourself just around the side from Eddie, immediately catching his attention and he jumped.

“Don’t let me stop you.” You laughed, stretching your legs.

“You’re really good at sneaking up on a person.” He laughed back, moving around until he was sat directly next to you.

“Why did I have to move to this side of the tree? Mine was much comfier.” He asked, slumping down with one of his legs bent.

“I skipped History.” You said simply, resting your head against the tree trunk.

“Ah. I suppose I’m in the presence of a… rebel?” He faked shock, clasping both his hands on either side of his face.

“A regular trouble-maker.” You nodded, looking out at the field before you.

“Well, I’m glad. Can’t argue with the company.” He smirked, glancing your way. When his eyes met yours it always made your heart flutter.

“So, what were you pretending to listen to?” You asked, raising your eyebrows.

“You saw that?”

“I think everyone in my class could see it.”

“I hope they enjoyed the show.” He chuckled.

“You play the drums?” You say, mimicking his earlier solo demonstration.

“Nope, more of a guitar guy.” He had a dreamy look in his eye.

“You’re so obsessed with your guitar. I can feel it.” You deduced, laughing as his shocked face met yours.

“If you were to see her, you would be too.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“No, I don’t think I accept that. You will definitely meet her someday and bow to her greatness.”

You smiled shyly at that. That had to mean something, right?

“What about you? Any instruments? You could join my band.”

“Uh no, not really, but you have a band?” You ask excitedly.

“Yeah!” He smiled, sitting upright. “We’re called, uh, Corroded Coffin.” He added quietly, scared of your response.

“That’s… so freaking cool.” You admitted, giving a bright smile at his band name.

“You think?” He grabbed part of his hair and hid his face, reminding you of your previous conversation. He always did that when he was a little shy about something.

“Definitely.” You assured, earning a wide smile from Eddie, his big brown eyes staring back at you.

“Wait, Metallica?” He said excitedly, spinning around the grass so he was sat directly in front of you and pointing at your shirt.

“Ah, yeah, I found it earlier this year when I was shopping with Nancy. She didn’t really like it but they just came out with their album ‘Kill Them All’ and I understand it’s not really her kind of music but once you start listening it’s so hard to stop.” You ramble, excited someone noticed your shirt. It was the first thing you’ve really bought for yourself that you loved.

“Favourite song?” He questioned, as if he were testing you.

“Phantom Lord.” You replied immediately.

“Good choice.” He nodded. “I didn’t think you listened to that kind of music.”

“I listen to basically every kind of music. Growing up in a house where everyone had different music tastes will do that to you, I guess.” You laughed. Your smile faltered at the mention of your family.

“So you get the best of everything. It’s a sweet deal.”

“Yeah, until I spend all my money on cassette tapes.” You laugh softly. They currently all sat in a box under your bed.

“Any you think I would like?” He asked. He was looking at you now, not even distracted by the sound of bell as students rushed around to get to lunch.

“Hm, I’ll think about it.” You smile, already knowing of the perfect ones.

You stood up, unaware that Eddie mirrored your movements. He picked up your bag and handed it to you and you both walked to the cafeteria, exchanging songs you loved from various albums.

You were both in your own little world at this moment, growing closer as you talked. Usually, you would avoid the cafeteria in hopes of truly avoiding people like Tommy or Carol but you didn’t care. Eddie led you to a free table, and you sat opposite eachother, still talking about music when laughter erupted in the cafeteria you both looked over to the table sat two rows in front of you, seeing familiar faces.

“Oh Steve!” Carol was moaning while Tommy proceeded to make clear gestures to their joke. Nancy was looking as if she was willing the ground to swallow her up with Steve sat beside her trying to shut them up.

You scanned the table you were sat at, seeing someone’s now deserted plate (they were far more intrigued with the display in front of them than their food) and grabbed an apple, launching it across the room so it hit Tommy in the centre of the back. The show came to an end as he turned, scanning the crowd for the culprit. At this point, you and Eddie had ducked down, avoiding his gaze.

When you both popped your heads back up, you looked at eachother for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“Nice aim.” Eddie laughed, looking over at Tommy now rubbing the sore spot on his back.

You went to reply when you caught Nancy smiling over at you and you nodded to her. You might still be a little pissed about last night but you were always going to have her back.

And then another set of eyes met yours from across the room. Steve.

He was now looking back and forth between you and Eddie, eyebrows furrowed and you saluted him. He shook his head and tuned back into what Nancy was saying. What was that about?

“Are you free later?” Eddie broke the silence, discarding the crust of his sandwich onto someone else’s tray.

“Yeah! I mean, no. I’m not. I have plans today.”

“Oh.” He said, his face dropping slightly.

“But I’m free tomorrow.” You quickly add and you saw the corners of his mouth twitch upward.

“Well, did you want to... hang out?” He seemed reserved now, like he didn’t want to say anything wrong.

“Definitely.” You grinned as you looked through the double doors of the space, seeing Jonathan scan the room before walking past.

“Uh, I’ll see you tomorrow then? I have some stuff I need to sort out.”

“See you tomorrow.” He smiles and at that same moment, one of his friends run up behind him, causing a riot of laughter and you silently left, following Jonathan.

You were ready to enter the photography red room when the door swung open, almost hitting you in the face but missing ever so slightly.

“Y/n!” Jonathan said, carrying freshly printed photos messily in his hands.

“Here, let me help.” You reach toward them but he snatched the photos away quickly.

“What- wait. Are those the photos from last night?” You ask, stepping closer.

He just nods and tries to walk away but you’re quick to stop him.

“Not so fast, what are the photos? Show me.”

“What? No, it’s-”

“Jonathan.” You said with such authority that he stops and reluctantly hands you the photos.

You begin to shuffle through them, seeing images of you cleaning up, some of Tommy and Carol glaring at eachother. There was a sweet photo of you and Barb laughing together and another of Barb sat by the pool. The photo of Barb caused you to stop for a moment before moving to the next and your breath hitched.

Nancy in the window, topless with only her bra.

“Why did you print this?” You whispered harshly, waving it at him.

“I don’t know!” He panicked, pacing back and forth, “I- I seriously don’t know what came over me!”

“Okay, look. I get that, but this isn’t right. You didn’t have her permission, you know, you could get in serious trouble for this!”

“I know.” He quietened, looking at the photo.

“Are there more?”

“On a separate film but it’s in my car.” He admitted. At least he wasn’t arguing with you on this.

“Okay, take me to your car and we’ll sort this out.” You’d burn the film if you had to.

“This way.” He started heading to the exit.

“Wait. Put these in your bag! Let’s try not to be caught walking around with half-naked photos of people, huh? Actually, throw that one out, rip it up, I don’t care. We’ll just take care of the other ones.” You whisper as you both shoved the photos into his bag and made your way out. You didn’t notice when he slowed slightly out of your view and slipped the provocative photo back into his bag.

It was wrong to take photos without permission. Sure, a candid photo can be nice. But that’s if someone is sat on a bench reading, not if someone is taking their clothes off in private.

You thought you saw Jonathan’s car before noticing four people sat on it, your brain telling you that it mustn’t be his. You scanned the other cars but you knew the first was his. You’ve ridden in it many times, there was no denying that it was definitely his. It was just a shame that it was being blocked by so much hair.

“Harrington.” You breathed, exchanging a look with Jonathan before walking over. This wasn’t going to be fun.

“Hey, man.” Steve said, jumping off the back of his car. He was completely focused on Jonathan that he didn’t even notice you were there.

“What’s going on?” Jonathan asked warily.

“Nicole here was, uh, telling us about your work.” Steve said and your face fell. Shit.

“We’ve heard great things.” Carol smirked, folding her arms.

“Yeah, sounds cool.” Tommy added, an arm around his girlfriend.

“And we’d just love to take a look. You know, as… connoisseurs of art.” Steve straightened up, eyeing his bag. You kept quiet, hoping to find the right time to intervene.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jonathan sighed, attempting to reach his car door when Tommy swiftly snatched the bag off his arm.

You had currently made your way to the passenger side at this point, slowly placing your bag on the ground in front of it. You didn’t need your books weighing you down if things turned out like they did yesterday.

“Please just give me my bag.” You heard Jonathan say. They were going to find the photos.

“Man, he is totally trembling. He really must have something to hide.” Steve had the bag now and was turning around, still too fixated on his mission to notice you stood there.

“Ah… here we go.” He pulled out the photos, turning back to Jonathan.

“Let me see.” Tommy chuckled, taking some photos from him as they all crowded around to look. In all honesty, you didn’t know what you were meant to do.

“I was looking for my brother.” Jonathan tried, like he had said to you that night. You believed him.

“No. No, this is called stalking.” Steve glared at Jonathan. You knew where this was going.

“What’s going on?” Nancy joined them, oblivious to what was happening.

“Here’s the starring lady.” Tommy laughed.

“This creep was spying on us last night.” Carol said, disgusted.

“He was probably gonna save this one for later.” She handed Nancy the photo and you shook your head. You told him to throw it out.

“See,” Steve clicked his tongue, “you can tell he knows it was wrong, but… man, that’s the thing about perverts. It’s hardwired into ‘em. You know, they just can’t help themselves.”

Steve ripped up the photo in his hand and Tommy started laughing and you were so close to giving him a matching bruise on the other side of his jaw.

“So… we’ll just have to take away his toy.” Steve walks back over to the bag.

“No, please, not the camera.” You heard Jonathan panic and you reached over to grab the bag before Steve could.

“Y/n?” Steve’s eyes widened, “Don’t tell me you’re actually letting this creep get away with it?”

“Look, I get it. It was not okay for him to do it. That’s why we’re getting rid of all the photos, okay?" You hugged the bag tightly to your chest. Jonathan’s camera was pretty much all he had left at the moment. With his brother missing and his mum spiralling, it was his last comfort. "Trust me.”

“Give me the camera, Y/n.” Steve was deadly serious, looking at the bag and avoiding your gaze.

“Steve, just listen.”

“Give. It. To. Me.” He had made his way around the car and was directly in front of you know, his height only adding to his intimidation. It wasn’t going to work with you.

“No.”

“No?” You heard Carol laugh from behind you and before you could react, you felt a sharp pain in your head.

Carol had grabbed a handful of hair and pulled. Hard. You dropped the bag on instinct and Steve simply picked it up, letting Carol hold onto your hair. You couldn’t move from the position you were in unless you wanted part of your scalp ripped out.

“It’s okay.” Steve said to Tommy who was currently taunting Jonathan.

“Let Y/n go, she was trying to help.” Jonathan pleaded, looking over at you. You caught Nancy’s eye and were shocked just to see her stood there, not even trying to help you.

“Here you go, man.” Steve held the camera out to Jonathan before letting it drop to the ground. The smash of the camera made you flinch. Jonathan just stared at the ground.

“Come on, let’s go. The game’s about to start.” Steve and Tommy walked away from the scene, Carol taking her cue to let go of your hair before she shoved you away from her, laughing.

The photos were now scattered on the ground in pieces. I guess that took care of that problem, you thought.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Jonathan asked, seeing that you were clutching the back of your head.

“I’ll survive.” You made your way to the camera and silently helped him pick up the pieces.

You could understand Steve’s reaction. He was upset for a good reason. But the way he was acting was… strange to you. Mean. Sure, he was a bit of an ass sometimes but you saw a new side to him today.

“Hey! Nance!” Steve called out from a distance.

You then saw that she was crouched beside you, gathering some pieces of a photo she spotted. When she looked at you, you assumed she would apologise for what they did, or at least ask if you were alright. But instead, she took the pieces and ran to Steve.

“I guess that friendship’s over.” You muttered.

The wind picked up and the photo remains were thrown everywhere, taken away by the natural force. You sighed and grabbed the smaller pieces of Jonathan’s camera, handing them to him.

“You didn’t have to do that. Stick up for me?” Jonathan’s head was low, both of you still crouched opposite eachother.

“Well, they didn’t have to do that.” You pointed to the camera, shrugging.

“Y/n is quite the hero type.”

You looked up to the voice and saw Eddie smiling at you, noticing the patch of your hair that was most likely in a tangle behind your head.

“What happened?” He questioned, looking at Jonathan who did everything to keep himself busy.

“Harrington happened.” You say, standing up while attempting to straighten your hair.

“Ugh. I hate that guy.”

“You do?” Jonathan asked surprised, looking at the boy who currently had his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, a metal chain on his jeans jangling as he moved.

“Yeah. All that hair? Nothing but ego and asshole-ry.” He laughed.

“Agreed. I’m gonna head home, thanks Y/n. Do you need a ride?” Jonathan looks at you as he stands and you notice Eddie shift uncomfortably.

“Yeah, actually, can you drop me of just outside the route to the power lines? I’d go straight to the Wheelers but I figure Nancy’s heading there with Steve…” Your voice trailed off as he nodded. Jonathan says a small goodbye to Eddie, you had no idea if they’d ever met, and started up the car.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eddie.” You smile at him, giving a small wave.

“Yeah.” He raised his shoulders and walked back to his group that were all patiently waiting by a van, not really meeting your eyes. That was weird.

You glanced down at your wrist and realised you had given your watch to El earlier that day.

“Hey, do you have the time?” You asked Jonathan as you got into his car.

“Uh, yeah, it’s 3:20.”

“Damn. Any chance you can get me there quick?” You look at him with pleading eyes.

“I’m not even going to ask.” He simply said, reversing the car out of the spot.

“Good choice.”

You had managed to sneak around the back of your house without anyone spotting you as you grabbed your bike and made your way through the trees, heading to the power lines. You hoped that they had at least waited for you before disappearing.

When you approached, however, you only saw one of the kids stood there. Pedalling closer, you saw El stood petrified by a cat that lay on the other side of the fence. You could hear it’s evil little hisses as you dumped your bike on the ground and jogged over.

“Shoo! Get out of here!” You stomped your foot and the cat ran. Looking over at the girl, she took a deep breath and met your eyes.

“Three-one-five.” She showed you your watch that looked much bigger than it was on her slim wrist.

“I know, I’m sorry, I had to deal with something.” You said, crouching down to meet her at eye-level.

“Deal with something?”

“One of my friends was being hurt.” You said and her eyes widened.

“He’s fine!” You added quickly, smiling.

“El!” You heard Mike yell as he and the other two boys pedalled closer.

“Y/n!” Dustin grinned and you walked over. You both executed a quick secret handshake that was created ages ago when Nancy and Mike left you alone. It was now a necessity to do whenever you greeted eachother.

“So, what are we doing?” You ask, glancing at each of them before walking over to your fallen bike.

“Just follow us.” Mike said, giving no help at all, and he turned to El, “Hop on. We only have a few hours.”

With no point in asking any more questions, you all biked your way through the forest, making sure to follow behind them so you could keep an eye on each of the kids.

'Danger, danger.' Mike’s words replayed in your head. You just hoped that danger wasn’t where you were headed today.

After a while, the forest came to a steeper incline and you all decided it better to walk, not wanting to completely destroy your legs. You walked with Lucas and Dustin while El and Mike paired together just ahead of you. It was kind of sweet how close they were. Gross. But sweet.

“So… why were you late to meeting us, huh?” Dustin asked, putting on a fake frown.

“Me? I got there before you nerds.” You pointed a finger at him and he surrendered.

“We were…”

“Dealing with something!” Lucas nodded at Dustin who followed his lead.

“Yeah? Well me too.” You said and you walked in silence for a bit.

“What was your thing?” Dustin smirked. You’ve known him two years now and you still didn’t know if he just liked conversation or was incredibly nosy.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because.” Well, you couldn’t argue with that logic.

“Harrington and his goons were harassing Jonathan.” You said simply, hearing groans from the boys beside you at the mention of Hairy's name.

“Why?” Lucas asked, “Jonathan’s always just been quiet, right?” He was remembering the times he spent at the Byers’ house.

“That’s not important. What’s important is that he’s okay and Harrington sucks.”

“Here, here!” Dustin said, shaking his head.

You all caught up to the other two and were directly behind them, in full earshot of their ongoing conversation.

“I was tripped by this mouth breather, Troy, okay?” You heard Mike say with a sigh.

“Mouth breather?” El questioned, not familiar with the term.

“Yeah, you know, a dumb person. A knucklehead.” Mike said, not explaining very well.

“Knucklehead?” She was very confused now.

“Someone who is mean. And not very smart.” You tried to explain as simply as you could, earning a knowing nod as she finally realised what Mike was talking about.

It was sad that the boys had to deal with their bullies day after day, it made sense that Mike didn’t want to tell El. He probably felt embarrassed. You’ve had your fair share of bullies. But after a while, you found ways to ignore them. Then again, you weren’t doing so well at that anymore. You were involving yourself in more fights than you could handle.

“I understand.” El smiled at him. It was adorable. But it didn’t stop you, Lucas, and Dustin mime retching at eachother.

“Anyway, what are we doing out here?” You ask again, hoping someone will actually answer you this time.

“Mike thinks that El is some sort of compass for finding Will.” Lucas rolled his eyes. At least he still came.

“Because she recognised his photo?” You look at Mike who nodded.

“With any luck, we find Will, rescue him, maybe beat up a few bad guys along the way, and return home heroes!” Dustin said triumphantly.

“See what I have to deal with?” Lucas said to you, shaking his head in disbelief.

This wasn’t exactly what you planned for a Thursday night but then again you couldn’t really complain; you never had plans.

You all walked for what seemed forever and soon the sun began to fade, plunging your quest into darkness. At least they weren’t out here alone.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Lucas muttered under his breath as you all slowed to a stop.

“Here.” El said, turning to Mike directly.

“Yeah, this is where Will lives.” Mike said, a little confused.

“Hiding.” El tried again, her voice a little quieter.

“No, no, this is where he lives. He’s missing from here. Understand?” You could sense Mike’s patience slowly fading.

“What are we doing here?” Lucas asked. His patience was already gone.

“She said he’s hiding here.” You say, looking at the house in front of you. Considering that El had no idea where Will lived, this was weird.

“Um… no!” Lucas said, looking at you as if you were mad.

“I swear,” Dustin spoke up, “if we walked all the way out here for nothing-”

“That’s exactly what we did.” Lucas threw his hands up in exasperation. You were still looking to the house, trying to figure it out. “I told you she didn’t know what the hell she was talking about!”

“Why did you bring us here.” Mike’s voice was stern.

“I-” El stammered.

“Mike, don’t waste your time with her.”

“What do you want to do then?”

“Call the cops, like we should have done yesterday.”

You took a few steps toward the Byers’ when you saw strange lights flickering in the house in an assortment of colours. What was going on?

“We are not calling the cops!”

“Hey guys?”

Your head spun around at Dustin’s call for attention, noticing why there was worry in his voice.

“What other choice do we have?” Lucas was shouting at Mike now, trying to make him see sense.

“Guys!” You and Dustin raised your voices at the same time and soon you were all looking to the road, multiple sirens racing past.

“Will…”

The sirens were blasting so loudly, so out of tune with eachother that it made your head spin. You wished it was just because of the alcohol.

An officer was attempting to get you to talk, but you just stayed there, kneeling in front of the pool. Blood was on your hands now, some smeared onto your dress.

Your eyes fixated on the body floating in the water.

You had all rushed to your bikes, following the sirens. Your heart was racing, unsure of it’s speed. Yes, you were pedalling fast. But the fear was overwhelming.

The wind was whipping at your skin as you all rode in terrified silence. The cops had found something. Judging by the amount of cars and ambulances, it was definitely not good.

The final destination was the quarry. A pit of mud and water that you would see some days when walking past the cliff that overlooked it. In the day, it was nothing. At night, it was the most eerie thing you have ever seen. You had never been nearer to the water edge.

You all kept your distance from the Sheriff’s Department as you all looked out onto the scene, breathless.

Please, god, no.

You prayed silently. Your hands were shaking.

I should get the kids out of here, you thought. But you were too late. They had found something in the water.

The kids ran to hide behind the fire engine before you could stop them. Rather than going with them, you were frozen to your place. You didn’t need a closer look. The small body that now appeared on the shore clearly belonged to Will. Fuck.

“What is wrong with you?!” You heard the painful shouts of anger coming out of Mike’s mouth. You winced. His voice had somehow merged with the voices of your parents.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU Y/N?!

It wasn’t until Mike pedalled past you that you snapped into action. The boy was already too far for you to deal with so, instead, you ran over to Dustin and the others.

As soon as El saw you, she cried. Dustin and Lucas were on the verge of tears. You wordlessly took them all in your arms with no objections, holding them until their tears stopped.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

You all rode back in silence, El’s grip tight around your waist. You really wished you had stopped them from seeing that.

Since you lived next to Mike, you took them all to your house. Their parents already assumed they were over his for a sleepover so you didn’t need to call anyone. Mike needed time to cool off, you knew that. Aggression was something you could deal with.

Dustin and Lucas thanked you for the pillows and blankets as they set themselves up in the living room. Your uncle had left you a note saying he wouldn’t be back until the next day anyway.

You set El up in your bed, letting her borrow some clothes that were too big for her, and tucked her in. When she fell asleep, you set yourself up on the floor. You knew you weren’t sleeping tonight. How could you sleep after all that?

Will was confirmed dead. That small, sweet boy was gone and there was nothing you could do.

After a few restless attempts at finding the right position, you gave up, quietly making your way to the kitchen to get yourself a drink of water. When you shuffled onto the tiled floor, your foot kicked something to the side. Another beer can.

You sighed, picking up the littered object and opening the back door to the trash-cans. With each step down from the small porch, your heart ached just a little more. You’ve experienced so much death. Death of people who never deserved it. One more, and you thought you might go crazy. But you needed to be strong. For the boys and El. You made a promise to stay with them and you weren’t looking to break it anytime soon.

“Rest in peace, Will.” You say softly to the sky. Acceptance was always key in these situations. It was something you had to alone.

At least, you thought you were alone.

A low growl echoed from the darkness of the path between the houses, the goosebumps prickling on your skin in response. Without a second thought, you took a step closer. Maybe it was just a cat. One step, then another. The growling continued.

A third step, and it all went silent. Your breath formed a cloud in front of you. Everything in your body was telling you to move. Run.

You sprinted back to the porch, rushing inside and slamming the door shut. Behind it, you heard the trash-cans clang to the ground. But that isn’t what scared you.

As you crouched down with your back against the door, you could almost feel the long nails against the wood, clawing away. You could see the glow of the flickering porch lamp cast onto your kitchen floor, beaming through the curtain’s fabric. All you could hear now was your heartbeat, growing louder with each bone-chilling scratch to the door. Whatever it was, it wanted in.

And then, it didn’t.

Everything stopped. You reluctantly stood up, using your shaking hand to peer through the curtain of the back door window. As your eyes adjusted to the night outside, you saw… nothing.

Not wanting to chance fate, you locked the door. Walking as quickly as you could, you checked and locked up the entire house. Dustin and Lucas were sound asleep. With a sigh of relief, you made your way back to El.

Opening the door, you saw the girl now sat up in your bed, her arms wrapped around her legs as she stared at you. Words finally escaped her lips, a wave of terror flashing through your body.

“They’re coming.”

Chapter 4: Maybe We're Not So Crazy ->

taglist: @gnnnne / @beepisbeep / @paintballkid711

comment below if you wanna be added to my taglist!

[blu-joons]

Your Child Almost Walks In On The Two Of You ~ Johnny Seo

Your smile was soft as Johnny walked from the bathroom back across into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Straight away he made his way across to you, laying beside you, propping himself up with his head resting into his hand.

“It sounds like Y/D/N is still fast asleep,” he whispered, placing his empty hand against your arm, “I don’t think she’ll be stirring for a while.”

“Then why don’t we go back to sleep?” You asked him.

Johnny’s head shook as his smile turned up, “I wasn’t really thinking about sleep, I was thinking that maybe we could do something else, perhaps a little more grown up.”

“Johnny,” you chuckled, unsure as to whether he was being serious or not until you saw the look in his eyes. “You know what she’s like, she could get up at any moment.”

His head shook back at you, “we can be quick when the two of us need to be Y/N, remember the dressing room in Hong Kong, or has that slipped your memory?”

“We were lucky that day,” you reminded him, poking against his chest. “If we had been a minute longer than Taeyong would have seen.”

His head nodded in agreement with you, “my point is that we can be quick if we need to be. When was the last time we had more than ten minutes to ourselves Y/N?”

“You drive a hard bargain,” you laughed, feeling Johnny’s frame lean in closer towards your own. “Do you even still have it in you to be as quick as you were in Hong Kong? I mean how you performed that night on stage after is beyond me.”

Johnny nodded confidently back at you, when it came to spending time with you he had energy in the bucketloads, and plenty of energy reserve after that too.

“Let’s just enjoy ourselves Y/N,” Johnny tried to convince you, “Y/N is asleep, the door is shut anyway so she’ll probably know not to come in.”

“I’m trusting on you to be right about this,” you warned him in a whisper.

His head leant in even closer to your own, “when have you ever known me to be wrong about anything?” He quizzed, not letting you respond by pressing a kiss to your lips.

He could feel your laughter against his lips as Johnny moved to hover over you, resting his hands against either side of you, with your hands pressing firmly against his chest.

“I’ll prove to you that I can’t be wrong about this too,” Johnny assured.

For the next few minutes you found yourself trusting everything that he had to say to you, starting to relax yourself. Things felt too good to be true for you, and as Johnny managed to lay you on your side, the sound of the door handle being pushed down disturbed you, forcing the two of you to move apart as quickly as you could.

“Mummy! Daddy!” A loud voice laughed, bumbling into your room as you grabbed the duvet and quickly wrapped it around your frame to hide yourself.

Johnny pushed it your way, sitting himself up without his shirt on, bending down to pick your daughter up and sit her in his lap.

“How did you sleep?” He asked her, “you were snoring just a minute ago.”

Her head nodded back at him, shuffling around in Johnny’s lap as she looked past his shoulder and saw you, waving across at you.

"I woke up because I was hungry," she explained to you.

"Shall we go and eat then?" Johnny offered, “you go and daddy will be there in a minute.”

With a kiss against the top of her head, Johnny placed your daughter down and let her run down the stairs before turning back to look across at you.

Neither of you quite knew what to say as your eyes met, still slightly flustered over what had gone. You’d joked about Johnny moving quickly, but he really had to set himself alight to move away from you quick enough before your daughter saw anything.

He bent down and picked his shirt off of the floor after checking on you, throwing it over the top of your head, hearing your daughter yell him from down the stairs.

“That was too close for comfort,” you told Johnny, letting go of a sigh. “Now I remember why I don’t trust you with most things.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it sorted. You just come down whenever you’re ready.”

You stayed exactly where you were as Johnny moved around the room, placing your clothes on the foot of the bed for you. The sudden tension between the two of you had you feeling uneasy, staring away out of the bedroom window.

“I’m sorry that we almost got caught,” Johnny whispered across to you.

“We didn’t get caught though, so let’s try and focus on that bit instead.”

His head nodded as he began walking towards the door of your bedroom, still not quite able to get you to meet his eyes.

“I’ll go and feed Y/D/N, you come down whenever you’re ready to,” Johnny told you as he reached the door, “there’s no rush, so don’t worry.”

A hum came from you as you watched him walk away out of the corner of your eye, covering your face as soon as Johnny was out of the way.

It took you a good few minutes to compose yourself to start getting out of bed, reaching to pick up the clothes that Johnny got for you. More than anything you just wanted to laze around, still doubtful as to whether you had managed to move in time or not.

By the time you got downstairs, there was a wide smile on your daughter’s face, carrying on like any other morning. As you took a seat at the table, you knew that you had to do the same, forcing a weak smile onto your face.

After sorting the two of you out, Johnny took a seat beside you too, leaving your daughter in her own little world. Your eyes kept watching her, in awe of the innocence that she had about so many things in the world.

No part of her made you think that she had walked in, but that didn’t stop your heart from racing still.

“We can’t risk anything like that ever happening again you know Johnny.”

His head nodded back at you, “I don’t want something like that to happen either, but we can’t not spend time with each other too because of her Y/N.”

“It seems like we just can’t find the balance for any of that right now,” you acknowledged.

The two of you had wrapped yourselves up in being parents for a long time, getting yourselves out of that zone was surprisingly tricky for you both. Neither of you knew what to do, or what the right thing was either.

“We should spend more time together, just doing anything,” Johnny told you, “even just watching a movie. The boys constantly offer to babysit, would it hurt us if we agreed to let them do it once every now and then?”

“It’s not as if we have family here to help us out,” you frowned, “and whenever Y/D/N’s been with the boys they’ve taken good care of her.”

“It would give us the chance to take care of ourselves,” Johnny whispered, “when was the last time we could say that either of us focused on that?”

Your shoulders shrugged, without a clue. “We need to sit down and think this through properly, we don’t have to restrict ourselves to mum and dad.”

“That’s all I want,” he smiled, “and if we end up revisiting the magic of Hong Kong, then that’s just a bonus.”

“Johnny! Not at the table.”

---

Masterlist

[twosroos]

all grown up [ch. 8]

roos says ! first writing posted since moving into my dormmmm :D!! im very excited. anyway, hope u guys enjoyyy and pleaseeee leave feedback i love reading what people think >:)! (pls someone find me more bob gifs i feel bad having to use rhett-- and a soft reminder that reblogs mean more than likes!)

desc: the dagger squad being at the house starts to shake things up, especially for you and your siblings. Partly because they think you still hate Bob, but mostly because they're just worried about you.

fluff, a bit angsty?

notable characters: robert "bob" floyd, natasha "phoenix" trace

TWs: alcohol, cursing, mentions of past relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms

ao3 link ! last chapter ! next chapter

Drinks are being passed around, your hands growing sore from pouring various bottles and grabbing cups in the mini-bar in the pool deck area. Avalon and Gisele help you by passing out the drinks to everyone, while Asher stays back because of his body’s inability to process alcohol. He eagerly takes a mocktail from you, though. In the back of your mind, you remember the day you'd found out about your brother's alcohol intolerance. He'd gotten extremely sick on his twenty-first. Though the both of you had been going drink-to-drink all night, you assumed he had too much. 

Then he started to have severe chest pains, you could feel his quick heavy heartbeat against his shirt and see it in his throat, he was pale, flushed, and clammy all at the same time. Too ad onto that, for a few minutes he couldn't breathe or see properly, and then he passed out slumped on your then seventeen-year-old shoulder. 

Yeah. It had been an interesting night.

Asher looks across the yard, murmuring something to his boyfriend-- Robyn, as he stares at Bob. Robyn hummed, smacking Asher's shoulder as he whispered, "It's been a decade, Ash. Maybe he's changed."

Asher gave an unimpressed shrug and you huffed, fishing a bottle of Tito's out from your mother's hands as you whipped around and tried to ignore your siblings. Even if you owed them an explanation, you weren't sure how ready you were to give one. To distract yourself, you quickly mix up a drink for Bob, Tito’s Lemonade. Something you'd noticed was his favorite. Dodging a stare from Gisele, you walk over and hand the cup to Bob, the Tito's still in hand.

"You make the best drinks," He smiles, a hand coming up to hold your arm as he says it. 

"And you're already tipsy." You hum, tilting the bottle to top off his drink a bit more as a joke.

Bob goes to open his mouth, the words, "On you" leaving before PHoenix wolf whistles and you hear Fanboy snort, watching as Molly sticks her tongue out to Phoenix (who does it back) before speaking.

“Little Robert’s drinking alcohol!” Phoenix grins from where she lounges with her drink. She lifts her sunglasses and squints as if trying to get a better look from her spot only a few feet away from Bob and Fanboy. 

Rooster, who's next to her, laughs along, a small smile as he speaks, “for real?”

“He’s always had alcohol?” You muse as you hand the Tito's to Avalon, so she can bring the bottle to your mom. The sliding door squeaks as Penny slips out, pushing Maverick and grinning at him when he sends her a look of 'what the fuck was that for?' Penny comes over to where you're standing, her hand balancing a bowl against her hip.

"He never takes anything to drink when he's at The Hard Deck." She hums and Bob huffs out a small laugh, adjusting his glasses as he looks up at you before casting his gaze slowly across the yard until he settles back on your frame. Molly curls against his side, her head resting on his shoulder as she happily accepts a drink from Avalon, a virgin martini in a small travel mug.

"I drank too much in high school." Bob laments, his accent coming out a bit thicker with the alcohol in his chest, "My mom found out the day I left for Bootcamp and her Hennessy was empty. She made me promise to stop drinking, so I did... at least until I turned twenty-one and it was legal to do. It's just a weird habit for me now to not drink anything. God, I swear working out more made me into a lightweight."

"You were al-co-mol-hall-tic," Molly says, thinking she's being matter-of-fact, but when the pilots start to giggle her face falls until Bob tells her the right pronunciation and she groans as she hides her face and kicks her foot out to splash Fanboy.

"Molly!" Genevieve whines from where your mother sits with her on a raft by Sarah and Ice, who sit on the edge of the pool next to Carole and Goose, MAverick joining them with a few different cups of various drinks he hands out.

"What, Gen?" Molly perks up.

"No roughhousing before dinner," Genevieve huffs, and in a perfect replica of her mother's voice she shouts, "It's bad for your digestion!"

"My digestion is too strong." Molly declares, crossing her arms, and Bob takes a chance to hand you his cup before he moves forward with Molly in one arm and she shrieks as he manages to grab her by the waist and chuck her up, sending her splashing the older adults on the other side of the pool.

"That was cruel!" Carole laughs, watching as Molly lights up.

"Again!" She screams, and Genevieve's sliding off the raft she's on, declaring it should be her turn instead. You hear the sliding door open, and glance over to see Jenny exiting the doorway with stacks of plates and such in her hands.

"Dinner's ready, guys! Hamburgers, chicken, hot dogs... and roasted veggies! We also have a bunch of chips and such!" Tom calls from where he's standing by the grill, and slowly people begin to make their way out of the pool. Bob gets one more throw of each kid in, Goose declaring he was gonna swim over and knock him out, which Maverick said was a terrible idea. As you walk back over to the bar, your mother catches your gaze and waves you over. 

"I'm worried about your siblings and Rob." she whispers once you're in earshot, "Asher and Gisele are really mad at him, hon. Any reason why?"

"The last time I talked to them about Bob was right after he'd left for boot camp." You sigh, crossing your arms, "So they kinda hate him for me."

"But you don't hate him anymore?"

"Yeah, but the twins and Asher don't know we had a sort of heart-to-heart." You look over at your brother, watching as he kind of purposefully walks the long way through your yard so he doesn't have to be near Bob. Your chest tightens, blood boiling your skin in something akin to protectiveness.

"Okay. Let me know if I need to talk to sense into any of 'em." Your mom smiles, squeezing your arm, before leaving to go get food. Now that no one else is around, you make yourself a drink and tell yourself to keep calm and try your hardest to not want to kill everyone in your general vicinity. The alcohol will take the edge off, or so you hope.

"Hey," Halo's head pops around the little fence separating the bar from the rest of the pool area, and you glance up as you finish off adding some margarita mix to your tequila, scotch, whiskey, and basically every type of alcohol possible. It wasn't a coping mechanism, you swore to yourself, except it definitely was.

"Do you have any vegetarian stuff?" she asks and you hum, setting the Don Julio bottle back in its holder as you grab your drink and make your way over to where she anxiously rocks from foot to foot in her flip-flops and full body neon green bathing suit. It made her look super tan.

"Avalon doesn't eat red meat, so we might have some Beyond Burgers? Those plant-based ones?" You say, guiding her over to your house and letting her inside, "How long have you been vegetarian?"

"Since I was... nineteen? I got that red meat allergy from Lymes, so I just decided to become vegetarian because I had always wanted to. I would be vegan, but considering food in the Navy is limited I'd have to wait a long time before I could do that." She explains as you both enter the kitchen. Halo pauses by the table while you walk to the freezer and pop it open.

"Do you guys do those... what are they called, oh! MRE's! Do you guys have vegetarian ones?" You ask as you bend down and begin rummaging through various boxes and other assorted items. Your mom must've driven to Publix or Kroger because your local mom-and-pop grocer didn't have all of this stuff.

"Some are vegetarian-ish. But, not many that I've seen have been fully vegetarian. Maybe I missed 'em." She chuckles and then claps when you stand up with a box of plant-based burgers in hand.

"I'll have Tom throw these on the grill for you," You smile, and Halo nods.

"Thanks, and tell him I say thanks too! Isn't he Bob's dad?" Halo asks as you rip two out of the box and toss the box back in the freezer. As you hip bump it closed and carry the burgers in their plastic over to the backyard, you look back.

"Bob's stepdad." You muse and she nods, before quickly slipping out of the door and calling over to Tom with a grin. You look across the yard, eyes bouncing from group to group as they eat. Eventually, your eyes settle on Avalon and Gisele, who sit across from Aspen and Robyn. The look you're given by your brother makes you realize that, at some point, you'd have to have this conversation with them anyway. 

Tom sets a plate Jenny made up for you in your hands and ushers you over, that all-knowing look in his eyes. It was something the majority of the adults in your life shared, an insane amount of observance.

You end up settling between Avalon and Robyn, knowing the two had purposefully left a seat open in that spot so they could act as buffers for you against your siblings. You secretly appreciate the sentiment.

"So." Aspen starts, "What's with Rob?"

You sigh, "Straight for it, huh?"

"We wanna know," Gisele sighs, "You're all over him, practically."

"That's a bit dramatic." Robyn hums, shoving fries in his mouth, Gisele sends a glare at him. You scoff, grabbing your drink and taking a long swig as you try to keep your face steeled against the strength of the alcohol in it. You probably should've made a normal martini instead.

"Well, he came back a couple of days ago. I was pissed he was here because I thought I hated him. I was mad at him for the shit he pulled before leaving for Bootcamp, as anyone would be. We got stuck in a storm and had an argument that led to us both being in tears, so I think we kinda worked it out." You explain, "I've spent time catching him up on things, and he's opened his heart to me about things he's gone through and such. We clicked back together and suddenly it's like... I dunno, I can breathe right again. He fits like a missing puzzle piece in this family and I knew that there was no way for me to completely avoid him... no matter how much I wanted to. And I'm glad I gave him a second chance."

Avalon pats your back twice, giving you a soft smile as she looks across the table at Aspen, "I'm glad you both could stop being mad at each other. You hadn't been the same after Rob left for camp, always so snippy and angry. It faded a bit when you went to college and made more friends there, but now I feel like you're finally coming back to us fully."

"Yeah," Gisele nods, "I agree with Av. Seeing you mix up drinks, laughing with the pilots... that wouldn't have happened eight years ago."

"That wouldn't have happened last year," Aspen butts in after taking a swig of his bet, "I'm just weary about you jumping back into a relationship."

"Especially after Mike," Gisele mumbles, a hand coming up to block the chips she's shoveled into her mouth. Robyn hums in agreeance, washing down his burger with what you think is just a normal soda. Next to you, Avalon nods as she folds her hands under her chin. Darting your eyes away from her, you watch across the table as Aspen pushes his salad around before he meets your eyes and speaks.

"Yeah, especially because Mike's back. Chris told me he got a job in Myrtle as a contractor. He's living in a hotel there when he has to work, and coming back home when he's off for more than a few days. Y/n, there's a high chance Mike will be at the party."

"Who cares?" You huff out a laugh, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in your gut or the way you suddenly feel a chill in the air, "If he even comes within ten feet of this party, someone is gonna knock him on his ass."

"And that's not what I meant about Mike," Gisele sighs as she picks up her drink and swirls it, a nervous happy you remember her doing since she was young, "You know how hard it was with Mike when he was away. He was only a few hours away, at most, and you could always call him or text him if you missed him. With Robby, you’re not gonna know what he's doing half the time when he’s days, even weeks, away from you. The Navy may only allot him like ten minutes to call, and that would be generous. You might have to stick to just emails. Y/n, I don't want to see your heart broken again.”

You look over to the pilots, watching as Hangman's blindfolded in front of the dartboard. Jenny is betting something while Tom shakes his head, and you can tell Hangman's gloating by the way Phoenix playfully shoves him to disorient him and Fanboy and Payback try to convince your mom to not make a bet on whatever's about to happen. Bob's watching, arms crossed over his bare chest as he leans over to your mom with some sort of explanation and she laughs. 

"You've got the lovesick look, honey," Robyn hums, squeezing your shoulder, "Asher's told me he's afraid you'll be hurt, just like the rest of your siblings. But also, I know that they'd want you to be happy no matter what."

"Maybe wait a bit," Avalon hums, "That's what I had to do with Hannah. Now she's working towards being an admiral. We're praying that she'll get a station to stay at before we get married."

"Maybe." You hum internalizing what your siblings (plus Robyn) had said. It was all true. Mike was an asshole, and you'd been hurt by him for months (even before the split), and even if you knew you probably should wait for this relationship it was so exciting to feel like you were in love again. You felt every rushing emotion from high school throwing itself in your chest again, and when you look over again after sliding your plate away, it's no surprise to see Bob watching you.

What you would give to let yourself just fall into his arms. But it was too late, you'd promised you wouldn't go there. Now, you knew if you fell you'd never get back up. And that was absolutely terrifying. But you steel your heart, lock it up and throw away the key, so you can stand and walk over to his giddy smile as Hangman (after being spun around) narrowly misses a bullseye.

"That near bullseye was bullshit." Maverick announces and the pilots laugh, and you gaze across the yard to see your sisters, escorting Amelia around. The three girls are currently talking to Halo, Omaha, Harvard, Yale, and Payback at a table near the darts. Next to them sits Ice and Goose, who watch as Sarah and Carole attempt cornhole. Your mom and Jenny watch from the other team, throwing out tips, while Tom carries stuff inside with help from your siblings.

You glance back over when Maverick slaps a ten-dollar bill in Hangman's hand and cuffs his shoulder with a headshake as he makes his way over to where Penny sits off to the side with Phoenix, Coyote, and Fanboy. And when Hangman offers for someone else to play while he goes back in the pool, Bob meets your eyes.

"No." You immediately say and the party, or those who heard, start to laugh.

"Come on!" Bob shouts, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulls you into his chest. You squeal, laughing as you fall against him and he smiles into the skin on your neck. He smells like pine and cinnamon, it makes you want to kiss him even more.

"One game, for me?" he begs, giving you puppy dog eyes that make you sigh dramatically before you nod.

"One game of darts." You declare and he cheers, untangling his arm from your waist to grab your hand and pull you over with him. 

An hour, and maybe five games of darts and two drinks later, you find yourself settled in the pool. Bob had left to show most people where they'd be sleeping for the next few days, and now you sat with Phoenix, Fanboy, and Coyote in the pool as most everyone else had gone inside. It was super late now, nearing midnight, and though you knew you should be heading to bed since you had to be up at four, you couldn't find it in yourself to feel tired.

"So." Phoenix kicks her raft off the side of the pool and you look over as she drifts towards where you float aimlessly in your floaty.

"Hm?" You look over from where Coyote was showing you pictures of his baby cousin on his phone, his legs kicking idly in the water as he sat on the ledge next to Fanboy's raft.

"Bob?" She says and you give her a look, so she continues, "You have to have a crush on him or something."

"Oh please say you do, I've never seen him look at someone like that, not even Talia." Fanboy awes and you give an odd look.

"Who's Talia?" You ask and Coyote kicks Fanboy's raft, sending him drifting to the other side of the pool.

"No one important, she's his ex." Coyote quickly covers, but the way he stares over at Fanboy tells you something different. With a soft splash, Fanboy quickly dips into the water and then out of the pool. That alone tells you there's a lot more to the story.

"Talia," Phoenix hooks her leg onto the pole of the steps, just like you were doing, so she could stay near the conversation, "is a fucking bitch. It's not our place to tell what went down between them but if you need to know anything, just know that when Bob got hurt she didn't even ask anyone if he was okay. Never, not once."

You think back to the look in Bob's eyes when you'd told him about Mike, and note not only the protective look in it but the way he'd also seemed upset. You'd assumed it was a side effect of the anger, but maybe it was something else entirely.

"He doesn't talk about her. I think he kinda forced himself to forget her after the accident, but that's not important." Coyote waves a hand, "Why won't you make a move on Robby there?"

"For one, it's none of your business, but this stays between us. I'm worried that if I do those things, open my heart to him, and be vulnerable like that... something will happen. He'll get hurt or something. Being a pilot, even a WSO, is dangerous. I don't know if I'm able to be so open like that again." You sigh gently, tapping your feet along the edge of the pool, "He was my best friend for years, I can't lose him. It's selfish but I can't. Especially if we become more."

"Being in love with Navy is hard." Phoenix sighs, "but you and Rob have something special, I can see it. I'm not gonna push you towards him, hoping you'll fall in love but I don't know if It'll be as bad as you think it will be."

"I might just wait." You announce, eyes staring up to the stars. After maybe another half hour of pointless talking, Coyote announces he's off to bed, and you decide to get out too. Before you can fully leave though, Phoenix stops you, and what she says stays in your head for the rest of the night.

"I promise you, he loves you. It won't be a mistake."

[pedros-mustache]

nighthawks (i)

summary: three hundred and sixty eight days—one standard year—that’s all he agrees to. then you’re gone.

word count: ~4.5k+

warnings: canon typical violence and weaponry, mean!mando for now hehe, hand around neck once (no choking), language, x fem!reader

a/n: this takes place post s2, meaning there’s no grogu (and we are ignoring the darksaber), but there will be plenty of ~other things~ to fill that void. the title comes from a painting of the same name by edward hopper. many thanks to @djarinsbeskar for being some extra eyeballs on this one! gif by @djarsdin​.

let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the following chapters. xoxo!

DAY ZERO

A girl—you’re just a girl. Barely a woman. 

You stand beside Karga, tendrils of hair framing your face, and Din sees the haughty strength in your shoulders, the iron viciousness in your stare. He sees you—green and gung-ho and itching for a fight—and he bites his tongue to keep from groaning.

His hands clench to fists at his sides. Fuck, he doesn’t have time for this. 

Karga keeps talking anyway. “You owe me, Mando. You know you owe me.” He gestures to you, and your eyes slide to the side, for the first time breaking from the visor of Din’s helm. You pin Karga with that steely stare, all impetuous edges and self-important sheen, but Karga ignores the weight of your glare. “One year—that’s all I’m asking for here.” 

Three hundred and sixty-eight days? No. Din doesn’t do jobs like this anymore. Not for a long time.

Hooking his thumbs beneath his belt, he shifts his weight to the side and shakes his head. “I’m not a nursemaid,” he says. “I’m done carting children around for you, Karga.” 

Your gaze snaps back to the panel of his visor—and Din is almost impressed by the flash of raw, unbridled anger that sparks across your pupils. Almost. 

Anger is a good place to start for an inexperienced bounty hunter. It’s as potent and propulsive as any formal skills training, a breeding ground for guts and determination. Like a shot of hard liquor, it ignites the blood and swirls through the body, pushing, pushing, pushing until, in order to find reprieve, the only viable option is success against the enemy. Against the anger itself. Din knows the look you carry well, was practically a slave to his own ire in his younger years, but he’s older now. Older, and maybe a little wiser, but certainly not as convinced that the ways of his youth are as well-tried as he once thought. 

So much has changed in the last year. Everything he once knew, cradled in his palms like his own flesh and blood, is gone, ripped away like a seedling on a harsh wind. His hands, his thread-bare satchel, the sling above his cot—it’s all empty now, tinged with ghosts he doesn’t like to acknowledge in the light of day. He is left with himself and himself only, which isn’t much by his own estimation, but it’s what he knows. It’s what has always been. And it���s easier that way—going at it alone, silent and sure and guided by a carefully honed set of skills. He never falters, never bends to his humanity—that niggling, irksome part of himself—when he is alone.

No—the mess of it all… of existing alongside another… of crumbling beneath the weight of responsibility and duty and attachment… Din doesn’t have time for that. Not again, anyway. Karga needn’t of bothered to ask.

Your voice, sharp and curling, breaks his thoughts. “I’m not a fucking child, Mandalorian.” You mirror his stance—whether on purpose or on accident, he isn’t sure—but your hip juts to the side, your hands on the tac belt slung low around your waist. “I’m a grown woman. I can handle myself.” 

He laughs at this, at the naivety that swaddles you safe and warm. It’s a husk of a laugh, peeled from his chest like a tight bandage on tender flesh. The sound is awkward, sudden, in the cramped storeroom of the cantina, and Karga winces. True laughter—borne of friendship and shared memories and the luxury of a moment of respite—floats through the flimsy door separating the cantina from the storeroom to affront Din’s ears. He shuts his mouth, laughter swallowed, a hard lump in his throat.

“What’s so funny?” There’s no mistaking the sneer of your upper lip, and he has to hand it to you: you’re fucking persistent. Anyone else vying to be his apprentice would have beat the dust by now, dissuaded by his refusal and mockery alike, but you’re still here, still waiting, eyes set hard and fast. So, he has to hand it to you: you aren’t a complete poseur. Just ninety-nine percent one.

He needs to put an end to this. No way, no how, is he taking you back to his ship. He’s better off alone, and he doesn’t have the energy or patience to drag along a girl and teach her the ways of the Guild. The mere thought makes his shoulders droop with exhaustion and a sigh work its way through his chest.

Maker, he’s getting too fucking old for this. Whatever Karga hoped to achieve by baiting him through the storeroom door with the promise of an intense hunt, one rigorous enough to drown out the noise of his past—it ends now.

Din takes a step forward. Another—another—another. His feet fall heavy on the worn, uneven ground, and your eyes grow wide with each purposeful advance. Stretching to his full height, he meets your gaze head on. A muscle in your brow twitches, a beast caught by the leer of another beast. He notes the way your right shoulder shifts backwards, toward the exit, as though prepared to flee. Good—you’re scared. As you should be. 

Like the snap of a well-corded whip, he reaches out and curves his hand around the column of your throat. He’s vaguely aware of Karga’s protests—Mando! What are you doing?—but Din doesn’t release his hold. Doesn’t tighten his grip either. Still, the ligaments and cartilage of your neck give, bending slightly under his grasp. The leather of his glove catches on a stray thread of hair; your heartbeat thrums against his palm. 

When he speaks, his voice is naught above a rasp—deadly, slow, and smooth. “I could snap you like a twig, girl.” 

There it is again—that irate spark that shoots across the circle of your irises. A muscle in your jaw twitches; your chin lifts almost imperceptibly. “I could crush your balls in my palm, Mandalorian.” 

He drops his hand, skin singed under his glove. A hot rush of frustration surges through his veins, and he resists the urge to drop you to the ground with one fell swoop to the back of the leg. You’re fiery, angry, brazen enough to threaten him without a second thought. He’s seen it all before, in the bright eyes of other arrogant young recruits always dead before the end of a lunar cycle; you’re nothing special. 

Kargra grabs Din by the shoulder, pulling him further into the storeroom, away from you and your swirling cloud of disdain. It’s darker here, the single square window partially obscured by the corner of a cabinet; its door hanging on the last bolt of a rusted hinge. Dust mites drift through a pale beam of light casting the unlit portions of the room in shadow. 

“Mando, please,” Karga starts. He sounds conciliatory, but determined. Which is too bad considering his offer of one thousand extra credits isn’t enough. 

Without warning, the storeroom door opens on a thin creak, and a lithe Bith, armed with a crumpled sheet of paper, ambles into the room. He brings with him the sound of tinny, off-beat music from the heart of the cantina and the smell of overcooked meat. His food-stained clothes drape over his wiry frame, the stoop of his shoulders pronounced. His large head swivels as he takes in the tense air of the narrow closet, the clench of Din’s fists, and your wide, battle-ready stance. Muttering something in his native tongue, he backs out of the room as quickly as he came, waving his hands in dismissal. Karga curses—his time is running out.

Lowering his voice, he glances over his shoulder to where you stand, fingertips pressed to your sternum. You glare at Din through your lashes, and he grits his teeth. “The Guild is running low on bounty hunters. You know that as well as anybody.”

Din drags his eyes from you to Karga’s worn, haggard face. The older man isn’t wrong. The last year has been tough on the Guild, resources and willing hunters run thin, stretched like rations among too large a crowd. There’s more lucrative work to be found in the private sector, and Din doesn’t blame any of his counterparts for jumping ship and taking a post as security for some bigwig on Coruscant. He can’t say the thought hasn’t crossed his mind, either. 

He’s simply too tied to the stars, to the vast expanse of space and all he can forget there, for a job which roots him to the ground.

“Yes, I do,” he says. “You’ve run me like a dog.”

Karga grimaces, his eyes skittering to the floor. Rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, he nods, shoulders seesawing in an admonition of guilt. “Can you blame me? You’re the best I’ve got.”

“I’m almost all you’ve got.” 

“Which”—Karga’s face lifts, and he points to you, the girl hovering in the corner—“is why you need to take her with you. Train her, make her out to be as good as you are, better even! The more bounty hunters that model their skills after yours, the sooner you can retire, kick back and—”

“I won’t retire.”

A pause, swollen with obstinance on either end of the debate. Karga works his jaw back and forth, focus tightening on the smooth curvature of the helmet, the center of Din’s forehead; Din tilts his head and, though his eyes are obscured, he’s sure Karga can feel the indifference in his unblinking stare.

Finally, Karga speaks. “Fine, take a day off, whatever.” There’s another pause, as though Karga expects Din to respond, but when the silence stretches a beat too long, he just gives a pinched-lip smile as he digs a hand deep into a pocket at his hip. “Take this as a down payment. There will be more at the end of the year. And consider yourself promoted with a fifty percent raise on every bounty, too.”

Din weighs the offering—a slim ingot of beskar—in his hand, brow lifted beneath his helm. The metal weighs heavy, appearing dull in the hazy light of the storeroom. He brushes his thumb over the seal in the bottom corner. 

“Where did you get this?” he asks. Never in all his years at the Guild has Karga offered him beskar. The sight of it now—unsullied, clean, weighty in his hand—twists his gut with something akin to… longing? Forlornness? He’s not sure. Sliding the ingot into his back pocket, he looks up, pushing the tug in his chest to the side.

Karga shrugs. “No matter. I have my connections, as we all do.” He again glances at you before swinging his gaze back to Din, eyes gone round and soft. “You’d really be helping me out here, Mando,” he says. “She’s good. I know it.” 

“She’s got a tongue on her.” 

Across the room, tucked between the door and a shelf that scales the chipping wall, you fold your arms over your chest. “I can hear you, metal man. And yes, I’ve got a tongue. I’m not afraid to use it either.” 

Din huffs. Little brat.

Only—he could use the money. Due to the untimely death of the Crest, he had to drain his accounts in order to purchase the Sunder. Not a cheap investment; not one he particularly enjoys, either. His pockets remain empty—the Sunder too—and, though he’s by no means a creature of comfort, with a new ship comes new burdens. Parts break more often on these sleeker, high-tech models; he’s learned that the hard way in the last year. So even with his regular bounty load, he’d be just scraping by, eking out an existence in the cosmos, after all is said and done and the Sunder kept well-maintained. A modicum of cushion where credits are concerned would be nice, he has to admit. 

He swings his head to the side. 

Fuck. It’s going to be a long year.

“I can see you thinking about it.” Karga grabs Din’s elbow. “I see those wheels turning. You need the money, I know you do. And after everything that happened with—”

Din yanks his arm from Karga’s grasp and skewers the old man with one long finger in the chest, the bluntest of knives Din is willing to use on his employer. For now. Through the orange fingertip, he can feel Karga’s heartrate ratchet higher. “Don’t talk about that. I don’t want to hear it.” 

“Okay, okay.” Karga lifts his hands in surrender, shaking his head in contrition. “My apologies, Mando.” 

“You want to be a bounty hunter?” Din’s addressing you now, his bulky frame across the floor in two easy strides. 

You push away from your spot against the wall and drop your hands to your sides; there’s no nervous twitch to your fingers, only clenched fists, knuckles tight and prepared. You nod once, resolute. “Yes.”

“Why?”

Most new bounty hunters are in it for the fun. The thrill of the chase and the excitement of weeks on end racing across the stars can’t be beat; it’s a drug as heady as any other. It’s not a terrible reason to join the Guild, but the high of hunting criminals doesn’t last for long. Soon the unending monotony of planets and foulmouthed villains and cuts and bruises that scar deep grates on the soul. The job wears the nerves thin and papery, like parchment withered with age. It forms the body to steel, rigid against attack. And the heart? Shit, Din can’t remember the last time he let himself get comfortable or—

A wrench in his chest like the twist of a butcher knife through the ribs. A pair of round, deep eyes between oversized ears swims before his vision, and he remembers. Yes, there was a time—recently, not so long ago—where the metal cage around his heart unlocked and he let someone in, if only for a moment. 

But it’s easier—so much easier—to lock that part of yourself away for safekeeping. Fresh bounty hunters don’t know all that: all the job takes out of you, all it forces you to become against your own will.

Din isn’t surprised when you do not hesitate before responding to his question; he anticipated as much from someone with your ego. He is, however, intrigued by your answer and the calmness with which you speak. 

“Because the people you catch take advantage of people like me. I intend to stop that.” 

Naive—foolhardy—idealistic.

As he did Karga, he levels his finger at you, though he keeps his distance. You stiffen, face folding in a frown, and push his wrist away with a swat of your hand. He lets you. 

“I’m doing this for the credits and the beskar. I don’t care about your personal goals, however lofty you think they are.” 

You lift one shoulder in a noncommittal shrug and return your arms to cross beneath your breasts. “Doesn’t bother me.” 

“You default to my orders. Is that understood?”

You blink, slow and syrupy, lashes fanning your cheekbones. Your lower lip disappears beneath your teeth as you consider his request. Din sets his jaw, leaning forward, his chest expanding on a deep inhale. 

“I said: is that understood?”

It’s another moment—Karga seething, Just say yes—before you nod, chin dipping toward your collarbone in a single sluggish movement.

Din backs off. “One shit move and I throw you off the ship without a second thought.” Then, turning to Karga, he motions to the door. “Now give me those fobs. I’d like to get out of here while it’s still light.”

//

DAY ZERO

Five fobs—five bounties—the start of the rest of your life. The pucks clatter against one another, strung together on the Mandalorian’s hip. A red light, solid and small as a pinhead, winks at you from the center of each fob—on, off, on, off. 

Find me, find me, find me. 

A smile tugs the corner of your mouth. Stars, you’re excited.

You trail behind the Mandalorian, a lone duffel thrown over your shoulder. The bag, half-filled as it is, slaps against your back as you navigate the uneven terrain. You keep your eyes forward though, despite the roll and twist of your ankles over the hardened edges of liquid fire; you won’t let him—that hulking mass of gleaming metal and boorishness—out of your sight. 

The lava fields of Nevarro smell like shit. It’s the sulfuric lava running hot beneath your boots, you know that, but damn, the scent curdles in your nose like rotten yolk. Everything on this planet is dim and gloomy, cloaked in a heavy shroud of darkness: the landscape, the sky, the small outcrop of buildings. You are as eager to leave as you are eager to smell something sweet. 

You hope the Mandalorian’s ship doesn’t smell like shit, too. 

Since leaving the cantina, he hasn’t spoken a word, and neither have you. You don’t have anything to say, and polite conversation has never been your strong suit, so it’s easier if you keep your mouth shut—for now. You get the feeling there are plenty of arguments to be had, plenty of words that will cross like swords, over the next year. 

Your skin still burns with the ghostly remnant of his hold on your neck. He hadn’t even so much as flexed his finger muscles, but in that moment you felt it—the insane depth of his strength. He could crush you like a glowbug, squeeze until you ooze pus and blood like an irritating insect to be wiped away. He wouldn’t even break a sweat pressing and folding and pinching your neck until you died of suffocation, face blue and eyes bulging from their sockets.

Okay, so at least you know who—what—you’re dealing with: an asshole with zero people skills and brawn to spare. Sounds like every other man that has come and gone through your measly, sad existence. Par for the fucking course.

Unannounced, the Mandalorian stops walking. You catch yourself, tilting forward on your toes, before you can ram forehead first into the solid plate of his back. 

“Hey—watch it!” You clear your throat at the shrill sound of your voice and step to the side, out from behind his towering form. A harsh tug to the strap of your bag bites the flesh of your armpit, but it distracts your focus from the heat rising to your cheeks.

He casts you a sideways glance, and hell, for a helmet so masking, you can practically see the loathing in his stare. He’s unimpressed by you on all accounts. Which, you think, is fair enough considering you know the bare minimum about everything in relation to bounty hunting. He’s got his work cut out for him. 

Turning away, he pushes a square button on his vambrace, and the ground beneath your feet shudders. You careen your neck back, releasing a low whistle as the entry ramp to a behemoth transport ship lowers to settle on the cracked earth. Pressurized steam swirls around the gaping mouth of the ship, and the Mandalorian strides up the length of the steel tongue, tattered cape swinging behind him. You hurry up the ramp in his stormy wake, only pausing long enough to admire two blaster cannons stacked atop one on opposite sides of the incline. Outfitted for a fight, apparently. The excitement settled at the base of your stomach swirls to life.

The Mandalorian closes the ramp as you step into the ship. He’s halfway across the cargo hold when the ramp thunders shut and daylight is snuffed out like a candle. Pale blue light filters from the floorplates, and a frosty chill skitters across your skin. You resist the urge to rub your arms for warmth. 

There is little time to survey your surroundings before Metal Man disappears behind a glass door at the far end of the cargo hold. In a whirl of sucking air and mechanics, he is lifted to the upper deck, and you are left alone, to wait in thick, angry silence until the turbolift is prepared and ready for your ascent. When you exit the turbolift, you step into a curved common area.

Your teacher or tutor or instructor—whatever he is—stands at the far end of the room, shucking his weapons into a narrow compartment built into the bulkhead. He does not turn when the turbolift whooshes back to the lower deck, empty.

“Dick move,” you say, dropping your duffel to a padded bench against the closest wall. “You could have waited.”

He says nothing. Just drops the five fobs onto a circular table by his side. You eye them with interest. And you’re sure he knows—he’s probably got eyes in the back of his helmet—so you look away, shoving your hands behind your back as you stroll about the anteroom.

“Nice wings.” You poke your head down a narrow hallway to your left. “Smells new. Is it new?”

He sighs, the sound grating, like durasteel dragged over sharp rocks. You startle, spinning around on your heel to see him standing directly behind you. Fucker moves like an apparition, silent despite the pounds and pounds of heavy armor on his person. You’ll have to get used to that.

“Yes, it’s new.” He flicks a switch on the wall upwards, and the hall is bathed in warm white light. You count four sealed doors, two on either side.

“What happened to your old ship?”

He pushes past. “Nothing that concerns you.” 

You frown. Fine—be that way. Asshole.

The Mandalorian opens the first automatic door on the right side of the hall. He faces you as he swings his arm across the threshold. “You’ll sleep in here.”

Brows lifting with anticipation, you walk forward. You’re sure the accommodations are cramped, as is customary on most starships, but nearly everywhere beats the shithole bed you rented on Nevarro and anything beats where you came from. This is a nice ship, afterall—a hell of a lot nicer than anything you’ve ever set foot on before. Maker, you can already imagine the clean sheets and the fluffy pillow and—

Your jaw drops when you look inside the room. 

It’s the galley. He’s offering you the fucking kitchen.

Your head whips to the side. “This big of a ship and you’ve only got one room?”

“No, there are two. You’ll sleep in here.”

You scoff, open your mouth to respond with something snarky and rude, but he’s already moving up the hall to the cockpit. You grit your jaw hard enough to send a sharp pain lancing through your skull.

Gripping the doorframe, you call after him. “Where is your fresher? I want to shower.”

The Mandalorian lifts your duffel from the bench in the anteroom and tosses it down the hall with a flick of his wrist. It lands with a thud halfway to the door; a bra strap slips from a small opening where the zipper won’t shut. 

“It’s there,” he says, pointing to the door directly across the hall. “Don’t use too much water. We have to conserve between the two of us. I’ll give you ten minutes before we take off.” 

You bend to scoop your belongings from the floor, clutching them to your chest. A sudden wave of exhaustion crashes over you, and all you want more than anything in the entire galaxy is to shut the door to your room and sleep. 

But the Mandalorian isn’t done talking.

“Oh, and don’t touch anything in the galley. Everything is—” 

You slip into the fresher before he can say anything—demand anything—more.

Nary a thought tumbles through your head as you stand beneath the scalding shower. Just the suds of a body wash you bought at Nevarro’s open-air market and the steam and the pounding water to drown out the voices in your head and your mounting hesitations. 

You shower for twelve minutes and towel dry, dressing in your only spare outfit, before slipping back into the galley. You seal the door behind you, careful to lock it from your end, though the thought does cross your mind that the Mandalorian can likely go anywhere he wants on his own ship, lock or no lock. He surely has all the override codes. Still, you hope the keypad in the hall now illuminated red is something he can respect.

The galley is modest in size—bigger than a shoebox, smaller than the least expensive room for rent in Coruscant. A steel table bolted to the floor, two chairs on one side, another padded bench against the wall on the other. On the far side of the room, a squat conservator tucked beneath a long counter and one cabinet scaling floor to ceiling. 

You drop the damp towel from your hair and the open duffel in your hand when you spot it: the caf machine, still snug in its packaging. 

Stars above! You haven’t had a good cup of caf in eons. Your fingers fumble as you rip the box open and unsheathe the magnificent hunk of white plastine. It’s a cheap model, one you’ve used before, and you’ll be damned if you let it gather dust in a box on the counter. 

You find caf beans included in the machine’s box, and it’s enough to prepare a single cup of caf. (You make a mental note to purchase as big of a bag of caf beans as you can get next time the ship lands. This year is bound to give you headaches, and nothing staves off the dull ache at the base of your skull better than some bitter bean water.) Drink made, you slouch on the padded bench and rest your head against the cold wall. Steam curls from the mug in your hand; it’s chipped at the rim, and you run your nail over the imperfection.

The ship has long since lurched into space. It glides through the stars with ease, and your eyes flutter shut as the hum of the engines vibrates through the vessel. A lullaby of old, from a long time ago, when things were better.

This is good. This will be good for you. 

You couldn’t exist on Inora anymore. Not as you were, anyway. Offering yourself up to the Guild seemed the only way out of that mess, and now here you are, secured an apprenticeship with a faceless Mandalorian who definitely has the skills and the weaponry to make you out to be the warrior of your imagination.

So you might be sleeping in the galley and your teacher might be a raging asshole, but you’ve dealt with worse. You have the scars to prove it, too. 

You want this. You need this. 

Defending the defenseless, protecting the prey—maybe this is how you make up for the loss of Jeelia…

Three hundred and sixty-eight days. A full year by the Galactic Standard calendar. 

Leaning over, you withdraw a datapad from your duffel. It’s cracked at the edge, but still usable. You open a new note and make a tally with the keyboard. 

You’re already counting down the days.

NEXT CHAPTER

[outercrasis]

An Easy Explanation

Pairing: Vigilante (Adrian Chase) x F!Reader

Word Count / Rating: 3.7k / T or M (call it PG14?)

Warnings: Alcohol, language, mentions of canon-typical violence, Adrian is bad at expressing emotions (but he gets there). very unbeta'd

Summary: You're trying to drown out a bad week at the bar. The last person you expect to see finds you there.

A/N: So I binged Peacemaker and now I'm in love with Adrian. Don't be surprised if I write more for him lol

It’s been a long week. You’re exhausted and while nothing sounds better than curling up in bed and sleeping forever, your mind won’t quiet long enough to let that happen. So instead you’re here, at the bar, trying to drink your thoughts into silence. It’s not going well. If anything the alcohol is only making them louder. Another might do the trick though.

You flag down the bartender for another drink. Logically you know you should stop, but if this guy isn’t going to cut you off, who are you to say no to another long island? Tomorrow is a mission-free day anyway.

You’re focusing hard on the condensation rolling down your near-empty glass when someone takes the seat next to you. You’re ready to tell this person to fuck off, that despite being drunk you won’t be an easy lay, and that if they try anything they’ll end up with your fist down their throat, but then you turn and your voice catches in your throat.

For a moment you think you’re hallucinating, your drunken thoughts making the main object of them appear before you. Weirder things have happened. But then he’s waving his hand and snapping his fingers in front of your glossy eyes, an exaggerated “Heellooo,” coming from his lips and you know he’s real. Even your brain isn’t that good. Now you just need to figure out why the fuck Vigilante of all people is here in the first place.

Irritation and your overall melancholy get the better of you. “You stalking me or something?”

What you don’t say is that you wouldn’t actually mind if he was. Not that you want to be stalked, it’s just if anyone were to do so, Adrian would be at the top of your list. It’s probably a little fucked up to think that, but then again your job directly involves murdering people so what do you know about normal. He probably wouldn’t be very good at it anyway. He’s terrible at finding cover and actually staying hidden behind it.

Adrian laughs at your suggestion, those stupid cute laugh lines framing his smile. It makes your stomach twist. “No, Harcourt sent me to find you. Wanted to make sure you weren’t off doing something dumb or something like that.”

You snort. Great, so now Harcourt thinks you need a babysitter. You have one bad week and kill one person one time outside of a mission and suddenly that makes you the bad guy. Okay- you can see the point there but still. Bullshit. And sending Vigilante after you? Total bullshit.

“So she sent you?” you ask indignantly.

He glosses right over your hardly disguised insult. You’re not sure he picked up on it. “She was going to send Adebayo but then she didn’t want to, so I said I would, and then they all stared at me a bit, but then Harcourt kinda like, sighed and let me go. I don’t know why they were so weird about it.”

You do. First and most obvious is that if you had gotten into some dumb shit he wouldn’t have stopped you and instead joined in. Sending him to stop violence is like telling Eagly not to fly – it’s against their very nature. Second and more importantly is that as much as Adrian Chase can hate anyone, he seems to hate you.

That fact is a larger contributor to your loud thoughts and drinking tonight than you’d like to admit – it’s just that you don’t understand why and even worse, why you want him to like you so badly.

There had been an adjustment period for everyone when you joined the team. Dynamics had to shift, your skills and personality having to work into an already tightly bonded group. It took a little time, but after a couple missions and chances to prove yourself everyone seemed to think of you as one of them – everyone but Vigilante that is.

From the very first day he’s hardly said a word to you, almost always gets in your way on missions, and has never sought you out one-on-one. In fact, this might already be the longest conversation you’ve had with him. Ever. You hate how much that bothers you.

You’ve seen Adrian angry and annoyed. You’ve seen him hurl insults at people, openly express distaste for them, and gleefully stab people that he doesn’t like. Part of you almost wishes he would just stab you and get it over with instead of the weird freeze-out thing. At least then you would know for certain where you stand with him.

The bartender brings over your fresh long island and you desperately hope this one is as strong as the others. You need the numbing pleasure of alcohol now more than ever. Moving your straw over from your empty glass, you quickly drain half of the drink, eyeing Adrian while you do. Why the fuck is he here?

“Because I wanted to be,” he answers cheerfully. Fuck, you definitely said that out loud then. “Why the fuck are you here?” he tosses back.

“Shit week.”

“Aw come on, it wasn’t that bad. We found out that John still sleeps with stuffed animals, Eagly let me pet him without biting at me, and we took out that gang. And you didn’t even get hurt- I got stabbed instead of you!” Adrian cheerfully lifts up his bandaged arm as he speaks, as though that’s supposed to make you feel better.

That knife should have sliced into you. If you had been paying attention, it never would have come close to you or any other member of your team. Instead you had gotten distracted and Vigilante stepped in like an idiot, his arm getting stabbed before blowing the attacker’s head off. He was lucky the knife missed anything important. Worse was that he didn’t say anything to you about it after it happened, making you feel like a bigger dumbass than you already did for missing the gang member in the first place.

You take another long drink. This still isn’t making sense.

“Are you fucking with me?” you ask.

Adrian looks very confused. You try to not get distracted by how cute of an expression it is for him. “What? No. Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know, man. The fact that I’m the reason you got stabbed?”

He’s really reminding you of a lost puppy now, his eyebrows all knitted together, looking between his arm and you. “But I let that happen on purpose?”

“You what?” Now you’re convinced you drank too much. There’s no way you heard that right.

“Well, I mean, I didn’t want to get stabbed but I didn’t want you to get stabbed more. There weren’t a lot of options in the moment so I stuck my arm out to block you. I really should have turned my arm so it would have hit my armor, ooh wait- maybe I should add more armor to the inside and then I can’t get stabbed there again-” Adrian keeps rambling while your slow, alcohol-soaked brain tries to catch up.

You have no idea where he’s trailed off to when you interrupt him. You speak slowly, more for yourself than him, trying to process the information he just dropped on you. “Hold on, so you let yourself get stabbed. To save me?”

“Yeah, have you not been listening?”

“Why?”

“Because I like you.” He says it like it’s the most obvious fact in the world. As though he’s stating that the sky is blue or that after a mission Chris’ foot stink could clear out an entire room. If he said it with any less honesty or sincerity, you'd be completely convinced he’s fucking with you.

You pinch your arm to be sure this isn’t a dream. Alcohol has numbed the pain, but it’s certainly still there. You pinch Adrian too. Just to be sure. His cheek is really soft.

“Ouch! What the fuck?”

You ignore his complaint. “This is real? You’re serious?”

“How much have you had to drink?” He asks, leaning in to look deeply into your eyes. His sudden proximity should probably make you a little more uncomfortable. All you can focus on is how clean his glasses are and what a nice shade of green his eyes are behind them.

“I thought you hated me,” you reply, very confused by this entire night’s turn of events.

“Why would you think that?”

His question opens the inebriated floodgates. “You never talk to me outside of missions. I’ve watched you deliberately leave rooms when I enter them. You’re always hanging around me on missions, like you think I can’t do my job right. I mean, I guess you’re right or you wouldn’t be injured but still. If I fuck up that should be on me.” Adrian opens his mouth to interrupt, but you keep going. “And then I watch you with everyone else and you joke around and laugh, but not with me and I don’t get it because I didn’t do anything to you but you won’t even give me a chance. You’re really cute when you smile and I don’t know what it’s like to be the cause of it and for some reason I don’t even really understand I really, really want to.”

When you look up at Adrian again, you’re surprised to see him smiling like a lunatic.

“What?”

“You think I’m cute?”

You feel your lip wobble and you know you’ve officially crossed the line from angry confused drunk to sad confused drunk. The latter is significantly less attractive and possibly more volatile than the former. The realization only upsets you more. “That’s all you got from that?”

The grin is wiped from Adrian’s face and he quickly stands, looking wildly uncertain of what to do with himself. “No, no, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. I’m not good with crying. Let’s go somewhere else, okay? You don’t want to cry in a bar anyway, they're like one of the depressing places to cry.”

You wipe under your eyes, willing tears to not fall while Adrian scoops up your purse. He offers his hand and you hesitantly take it before he leads you to the door. Somewhere behind you the bartender is shouting about your unpaid tab, but you really don’t care about that at the moment. All you can focus on is how warm Adrian’s hand is in yours and not tripping over your own two feet.

Adrian's confession is playing in your mind on a loop as he leads you down the street. Because I like you. Since when? For how long? You still think this might be one big, terrible joke. You’re torn between crying and stabbing him again yourself if it is.

The walk is quiet and you’re not entirely sure where he’s taking you until you’re standing outside of your apartment. You look over at Adrian, confused and slightly amazed. “You know where I live?”

For once in his life, he looks a little sheepish. “Sometimes I follow you home. Just to make sure you’re safe though, not for any weird stalker reason.”

It’s weird for sure and you have half a mind to remind him that you’re more than capable of defending yourself, but it’s touching too. It’s an acknowledgement that he cares about you in the off-hours and not just during work. “Can you open the door?” you ask him. “I don’t think I’m capable of using keys right now.”

Adrian opens the door with ease, helping you stay steady on your feet as you take the two flights of stairs up to your apartment. Stupid always broken elevator. The only positive is that you get to wrap your hand around Adrian’s bicep as you make your graceless climb. You really hope you’ll get to feel those more in the future.

Getting into your apartment, you plop onto the floor, tugging off your shoes. You’re shocked when Adrian toes his sneakers off as well. You must be giving him a very obvious look because he glances down at you and says, “What? I’m not an animal.”

He helps you off the floor, staying quiet as he follows you into the kitchen. You find a plastic cup, not trusting yourself with glass, and pour yourself a drink from the faucet. Adrian is busy looking around your apartment, taking everything in. You don’t have it in you to be embarrassed about any of the mess. You have far more pressing emotional concerns than the dirty dishes you didn’t get to before the last mission.

“So um, I’m still confused,” you tell him.

Adrian stops playing with the Super Mario magnets on your fridge. “I like you. And I guess I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t?” he offers. It doesn’t clarify much.

“You’re really going to have to spell this one out for me, Adrian.” The cool nighttime walk and water are helping to sober you up a bit, but you’re still a little too drunk to figure this out yourself. It doesn’t help that you’re pretty sure he’s been operating under his own off-color logic, meaning figuring this out stone-cold sober would already be a huge task in and of itself.

You walk over to the living room, curling up on the corner of the couch. Thankfully, Adrian doesn’t take any prompting to join you on it.

“What part are you confused about?”

“Like all of it, dude.” He looks incredibly lost. Despite your limited personal interactions you’ve been observant enough to notice that emotions aren’t exactly his wheelhouse and you decide to help him out. “You let yourself get stabbed for me, could we start there?”

He looks grateful that you’re leading the way. “Yeah, right. Stabbing. That one is really simple, I didn’t want to see you get hurt so I got hurt instead. Then I killed the asshole who tried to hurt you in the first place.”

That one you’re pretty sure you can follow. It remains a little bit insane, but you can see how he got from point A to B. The next part actually manages to click into place for you on it's own. “Is that why you’re always hanging around me on missions?”

“Yeah, I thought you knew that. Chris does, he’s always making fun of me for it which I told him wasn’t cool but that only made him do it more. He felt really bad about it after the stab wound though so it’s all good now.”

What the fuck? So Peacemaker has some idea of Vigilante’s feelings towards you then. You can’t imagine anyone else on the team does. No one else seems to really understand how Adrian’s head works. With Adrian and Chris being best friends you imagine they share secrets all the time. Chris is going on your shitlist for not saying anything to you though.

“What about you never talking to me then?”

That part has yet to come together for you. From what you’ve seen, Adrian isn’t afraid to speak with anyone about any topic. You’ve watched him chat with an old man about hemorrhoid cream and recommend a new brand, discuss the merits of rule 34 art with John, and once he came out of the bathroom to announce that he was deeply concerned for whoever used and clogged the toilet before him, describing what he'd seen in the toilet and his subsequent WebMD search in great detail. His avoidance of any conversation with you doesn’t make sense.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

"Why would I?"

"I don't know, but I feel like you might so just don't."

You truly have no idea why you would. This isn't something you're taking lightly. "I promise I won't."

"I was nervous to talk to you. I didn't want to say something stupid and have you not like me because of it."

"Why would I-"

Adrian cuts you off. "I weird a lot of people out. It doesn't bother me because I know that I'm like, super cool and they aren't, but I didn't want you to not like me too."

His reasoning is unexpected to say the least. Gun to your head, you would have never guessed that was his reason for never talking to you.

“And what about walking out of the room when I enter it?”

"Uh, would it gross you out if I said I was trying to hide my boner?” Adrian says. That you would like to laugh at, but you keep your promise. Instead you just smile.

"No, actually. I think it's kinda sweet knowing you react to me like a teenage boy."

There's a beautiful flush across Adrian's cheeks, a look of embarrassment you don't think you've ever seen him wear before. He normally deflects when jokes are thrown his way, his silence now acting as admission.

You're still far from sober, but even in your partially-inebriated state you think you get it now. In Adrian's own, weird and incredibly endearing way, everything he was doing was in an attempt to make your life easier. Protecting you on missions and otherwise leaving you alone. It's sweet, but so incredibly misplaced.

You finish your glass of water, setting it down on the coffee table before placing your hand on his knee. Adrian is looking away from you, trying to seem engrossed with the threads of his jeans. His eyes very obviously flicker to your hand, but he makes no move to pull his leg away.

"Hey, Adrian?" you say.

He finally looks back over at you.

"I don't know where you got advice on how to talk to girls, but I want you to throw everything you know out."

"Everything? Because Peacemaker told me-" You cut him off right there.

"Everything." Adrian nods his head in understanding. "I'm going to give you some new advice that won't work on every girl, but I do know at least one girl it will work on."

You stare at him pointedly, making sure he understands who you're talking about. Spelling it out will ruin the effect you're trying to have, but you're willing to do it if you need to. His eyes widen slightly as realization dawns and you know he's on the same page as you.

"What you want to do is go up to her, introduce yourself, flash her that cute little grin of yours, tell her what you like about her, and then ask her on a date."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. That's it."

Adrian suddenly launches himself backwards over your couch, walking towards your door. Your stomach bottoms out, horror-struck as you think you somehow read all of this wrong. Is that not what he meant? Was he just fucking with you this entire time? And then a step from your door he spins on his heel.

"Turn around, you're ruining the effect!" He demands. Your own anxiety got the better of you – he's not leaving at all. He's doing exactly as you instructed.

You turn around, doing your best to hide the ridiculous smile you can feel plastered across your face. This feels absurd, but your heart is thudding, excited at the prospect of finally getting to interact with the Adrian everyone else gets to talk and joke around with. It’s all you’ve wanted for months at this point.

Playing along, you do your very best to act casual. It involves a lot more inspection of your nails than you would typically do, but it’s part of the game.

Adrian jumps back over the couch, bouncing on the cushions as he lands, and wraps his arm around your shoulders with a smoothness you didn’t even know he possessed. It’s surprising to see the cockiness he typically displays more of in his suit so out in the open. You can’t say you don’t like it though.

He offers his other hand out to you. “Hi, I’m Adrian. Super dope people know me as Vigilante.”

You shake his hand, offering your name and codename in return. His hand is still so warm. Right on cue, he grins and your heart melts. There’s a chance it was a mistake letting him know how charming you find it, but that’s a problem for later.

“I saw you from across the living room and I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you are.” If he asks tomorrow, you’re definitely blaming the giggle that escapes you on the alcohol. “I also noticed how crazy smart you are and how fucking sexy you look when you’re killing people, and how shockingly nice you can be to people. You’re probably the most badass person I know.”

“You noticed all that across the room, huh?”

Adrian bypasses your joke. “I mean, that’s not really all of it, but I still don’t want to freak you out.”

You adjust yourself under Adrian’s arm, throwing your legs over his lap. “Is there anything else you want to ask me?”

“Do you want to go on a date with me? I know a really sick arcade place and I also know how to get the jackpot every time on at least five of the machines.”

There is a small part of you that wants to mess with him. Tell him no just to see his reaction, but with the way he’s looking at you there’s only one possible answer. You lean over slightly, pressing a kiss against his cheek. “I’d really like that. I’ve always wanted one of those top shelf prizes.”

“Babe, I’m going to get you all the top shelf prizes you want.”

You sit there for a little while longer, wrapping yourself further into Adrian’s body. You’re slowly sobering up more, reminding yourself every few minutes that this is real and actually happening. Adrian’s thoughts must be someplace similar.

“Hey, so you’re not going to suddenly deny all of this happening tomorrow, right?”

You pop your head up from his chest, looking at him in surprise. “No. Not if you aren’t.”

“Okay good because I was kinda getting worried there for a minute because you’re drunk and all, but I trust you.”

“Good," you say, settling back against him. "Because I think I like you too."

Tagging people who expressed interest/mutuals that I know like Vigilante: @green-socks @moonlight-prose @pettyprocrastination @skeletonstwins @anaaaispunk

My taglist is updated to include him now, so if you're 18+ and want to be tagged for this character please fill that out <3